This is the pie that I brought with me to work today, mocking my hunger from within my bag.
“That’s why they call them crushes. If they were easy, they’d call them something else.”
I haven’t been writing much lately, I know.. save for stories that feature minor bloodloss and youtube videos of bipedal dogs. The truth is, I have lots to report.
Rumors of my disappearance have been justified, but greatly exaggerated.
To fill some of you in, I am working at a smallish web host in Maryland. It’s a great place to be, exactly what I was looking for and I’m learning new things every day. No joke, I may be running the support department within the year. Go me.
I’ve met quite a few great people here; have made some friends and gone on some dates. I can honestly say moving to DC was probably the best decision of my life.
And then there’s
TC was someone I met via the fabulous dating site crazyblinddate.com. Long explanation made short, it’s a site brought from the developers of OkCupid.com – where, after you complete the usual forms detailing your likes and dislikes you also specify upcoming days and times that you are available to be assigned a blind date on short notice – usually a few hours. If you both accept the time and location, with only a blurry photo to go on, you are left on your own devices as to what happens next. To maintain privacy you may communicate via text messages through a proxy address that the site provides. It’s one of those sites I wish I had thought of…. and it’s free.
Back to TC.
TC and I met at a little Salvadorian restaurant near U street. When we first met it was obvious he was EXTREMELY nervous. He was stuttering and shaking and was hardly able to complete a sentence for the first 10 minutes.
Unfortunately the 20 minutes that followed were not much more interesting.
TC collected Voltron episodes on videotape.
TC quoted Star Trek and Highlander and obscure sci-fi novels.
Normally this would make me cream my shorts, but there was something so off-putting and arrogant about him that I just kept smiling and nodding while plotting an escape route in my head.
Oh yeah, and his breath smelled like someone shat a corpse in his mouth.
After a few appetizers we walked to a nearby used bookstore where I bought Hollywood (Bukowsky, pretty good) and Lenny Bruce is Dead (not Bukowsky and annoying to read.) After leaving the bookstore I accepted his offer of a ride home. it was cold.
It was a bad idea.
TC: “so. You are you always this reserved?”
ME: “not sure what you mean. This pretty much how I am when I first meet someone”
Apparently “extremely uncomfortable” and “reserved” look alike to him.
TC: “I’ve been told I can come across as aggressive sometimes. You know, my friends like to say ‘what TC wants, TC gets'”
I know, right? Totally makes you throw up in your mouth a little. You think it can’t get worse; neither did I.
We pull up in front of my house:
TC: “Can I have a kiss?”
Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to cut and run but I figured if I remained polite and air-kissed him or something it would all just be over with and I could go inside and blog about him.
TC: “To quote the Borg, resistance is futile.”
I promise he said that. On my father’s grave. Really.
Then he GRABBED MY CROTCH and rammed his tongue down my throat.
I shrieked like a girl and threw open the door. He was all “let’s do this again sometime.”
I slammed the door, went upstairs and took a tomato juice bath. OK. That part isn’t true. I did give him horrible reviews on the site though.
I mean really…
(I apologize for the all the typos this had, I was typing it on my phone!)
Sorry for the confusion. The previous posts were sent via twitter which is kind of like a mini mailing list via txt messages. I was experimenting with a plugin for the blog, so what you saw was the result. There’s no more to the entries other than what you read.
A number of patrons of the bar down the street are drunk, walking to their respective cars which are on opposite sides of the block and have taken this opportunity to scream a conversation between themselves outside on the sidewalk. I can’t tell what they’re saying, but they’re saying it loudly.
It’s only 7:51pm people, too early for this shit. I’m trying to watch TIVOed episods of Janice Dickinson, forchrissakes.
On a completely different topic, I saw the subject of a previously posted photo on the metro again this morning. I see him probably two or three times a week, whenever I happen to be running about 10 minutes late for work. Every time it’s the same. He stands at the foot of the escalator and ties his tie, stopping every couple of seconds to make sure it’s progressing properly. He’ll compare the two lengths of tie, making sure the skinnier piece will be shorter than the long piece when done. Before the final tuck and pull he’ll make sure the bottom of the tie will reach his belt. He always nails the dimple at the top, just as it enters the knot. He;s done this before, he knows what he’s doing.
It’s kinda hot, but I feel totally creepy sneaking peeks.
Fuck, I’m totally creepy.