Posts Tagged ‘“Could you possibly turn me off more and do you want to go make out?”’

This weekend I was given free basketball tickets by my dad (who I’m sure did not intend for me to  make a cocktail out of wine and beer beforehand and continue to drink my way through 4am).  I decided to offer them up to Ex-boyfriend’s Good Friend.  Who was also a good friend of mine in college and just moved to Dallas.  This was both the best and worst decision I have made since I decided to go to Mexico for a friends wedding and leave all of my luggage in Austin (true story for another time and place.)

Ex-boyfriend’s Good Friend and I have always had a bit of strange chemistry, but I was always Ex-boyfriend’s Girlfriend and he was his Good friend, so obviously we kept our hands to ourselves and played nice.  But I think we all knew what we were getting ourselves into when he accepted the ticket.  I also took  J. and my ginger-friend P.

Everything was great FOR THE FIRST TWO MINUTES OF THE GAME when ExBf’sGF asks me “so are you and Ex-boyfriend cool now or…?” I can hear J. giggling over my shoulder because she knows I now have to have the awkward conversation of  “no, in fact if that asshole was on fire in a puddle of gasoline, I’d probably spray him with jet fuel, but some sort of hybrid slow-burning jet fuel because he took my heart and tore it into tiny little pieces and then used those pieces to spell ‘and I’m taking your dog too but lets still be friends which means I’ll never speak to you again and you will always feel really stupid that you believed me'” (In reality I said, “No, not really, I’ve only talked to him once since…uh, you know”).

We get through the rest of the game  slightly less awkwardly and decide to head to a local bar to meet up with another one of Ex-boyfriend’s Friends who is actually really helpful in easing the tension as he doesn’t ask anything about Ex-boyfriend or why Ex-boyfriend’s Good Friend and I are making bedroom eyes at one another.

(typically when I run into anyone who knew me in college the conversation goes like this. They are all “oh my god, how are you? You used to be so cute in college, but I guess we’ve all seen our better days.” And I grudgingly reply “Thanks, it must have been the meth addiction.” then they are always like “WHAT?!?!” and then I say, “nevermind” and they say, “By the way, how is Ex-boyfriend?” and I say “Dead hopefully.” And they are all “WHAT?!?!” and then I’m like “Just kidding. We broke up last year, but I do hope he has a seriously painful case of the herp. Well, hope I see you again sometime soon!”)

So J and L (who joined us for the drinking portion of the evening) decide to go home in this fashion – “OK BYE WE ARE LEAVING. REALLY TIRED. YOU STAY. STAY AND HAVE FUN. E. SIT, STAY, GOOD GIRL. BYEEEEEE.” Then they threw me a treat and peaced out.

So I ended up at 4 am with Ex-boyfriend’s Good Friend on the balcony of Ex-boyfriend’s Other Friend’s town home. And he is all “You know you are making this really hard right?”

I bat my eyes (or maybe I just couldn’t keep the right one open at the same time as the left one) and say “But I don’t know what you are talking about.”

He says “I can’t date you, because I have to be a good friend to Ex-boyfriend.” And I provide him with a bunch of rational (read: drunk-ass) reasons why that is stupid.  Then because I am SO smooth with the gentlemen.


So he says “don’t do that” reaches in to give me a hug, and then defies all laws of nature and starts making out with me. Which was a very pleasurable experience for 37 seconds until we were interrupted by a girl who had asked me earlier if he and I were dating because we were “the cutest couple.” I shot across the 3×5 balcony like the wall was made of Snickers and I hadn’t eaten in a week.

Long story short.  The next morning I talked to him to make sure he wasn’t like OMG WHAT HAVE I DONE?!?!??!??!!! And he was like “we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” I didn’t think it was the appropriate time to tell him I totally plan on designing a jet pack by then, so I don’t ever have to cross any bridges because they REALLY freak me out. So I just smiled and said “OK.”

I’m sure the next time we hang out I’ll get drunk and ask him if he thinks “ex-boyfriend will actually come to our wedding or if he’ll just send a really shitty present.” and he’ll be like, “I think ex-boyfriend would at least send a nice present.” and I’ll disagree heartily because Ex-boyfriend has horrible taste and I used to pick out that kind of stuff.  Then he will run screaming from my apartment because I will officially have driven him insane. 

Welcome to my world.


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Ok, I know I released Is-he-or-isn’t-he-guy to the gods of Bitchier Bitches than me… but I think playing hard to get actually worked. 

This week it was REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY EFFING cold at the Auction.  So I was wearing approximately 97 articles of clothing and had about half an inch of my face  showing. 

This is the day that Is-he-or-isn’t-he-guy decides to make his move.  He comes over and blatantly ignores me and says to my dad “Nice coat, are you gay now or something?” Swoon.

Then my dad points out that the hat he is wearing looks like something his blind grandma knit for his sister once (which, in all honesty, was less of an excellent insult and more of an accurate description).  Then Is-he-or-isn’t-he-guy smiles directly at me, WINKS…and returns to ignoring me for the rest of the day.

Oh, its so on Is-he-or-isn’t-he-guy. Its SO on.

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Part of my job requires me to go to the Dallas Auto Auction once a week and be groped by the eyes of approximately 4,000 dirty old men of varying age, race, and sizes.  Awkward…Did I mention that I attend with my father? Awkwarder…

On occasion some yummy little delight emerges from the 3,999 other fellas to catch my attention.  Recently we relocated and I now find myself back to back with the “Is-he-or-isn’t-he” Guy.  If you have ever been sitting at a Chili’s with your mom while she talks incessantly about the new American Girl doll and stared at some guy across the booth while gnawing on your baby back ribs with a quizzical expression on your face, you know EXACTLY what I’m talking about. 


Well this was week three of the little game that “Is-he-or-isn’t-he” Guy and I play that I like to call, “Could you possibly turn me off more, and do you want to go make out?”

The first week, “Is-he-or-isn’t-he” Guy brought out the “hey look, I’m normal” card by wearing jeans and a t-shirt.  He is tall, and has a well-sculpted body.  In addition, we are in the same bizarre line of work, so I thought that could be fun. (As in, when people don’t believe what I do, at least I can turn to him and roll my eyes as if to say, “imbeciles!”)

Score: Is He: 1; Isn’t He: 0

The following week “Is-he-or-isn’t-he” Guy slipped a few notches. In what I can only assume was a shortage of time to get ready in the morning, he put together an outfit consisting of cutoff cammo cargo shorts and a t-shirt.  I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you gasping through the computer screen, you must not have read that correctly.  I SAID CUTOFF CAMMO CARGO SHORTS. 

Score: Is He: 1; Isn’t He: 1,647,286

Then he smiled at me and introduced himself and I had to adjust the score a little.

Score: Is He: 1; Isn’t He: 1

This week, he really outdid himself as showcased in the following series of text messages with J.

November 12, 2008 10:17 AM

Cammo cargs is wearing basketball shorts today…in public…where no sport is being played.  This is getting redic.  What will he be wearing next week?!?!?!

From J:

Nov 12, 2008 10:19 AM

I would say god only knows but somehow i don’t think god has anything to do with this. Hes always struck me as a man of style.

[Note from the author: I think J. is talking about god being the one who has great style as she has never met the “Is-he-or-isn’t-he” Guy. Which could be true, I think I saw a pair of Prada sandals once that looked exactly like the ones that Jesus is wearing in The Last Supper.  I mean, I know that is God’s son, but no matter how hard you try, your values rub off on your kids.  Also, I’ve never seen God’s feet which leads me to believe he doesn’t have any, and therefore cannot wear Prada sandals, poor guy.)

Score: Is He: 1; Isn’t He: 2

Tune in next week when I report again on what a virtual stranger is wearing and whether or not I think it is absurd.

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