In pursuit of a good time.
It's kinda crazy, the way things work out.
I didn't have high-hopes, so I wasn't disappointed. In truth, the dancing was fun. Healthy interpersonal relationships with members of the opposite sex continue to seem like something one can only read about in books, however. And, now that I think about it, those books are pretty damn rare, too.
The girl that invited me, whom I've met once or twice before through mutual friends, and her friend, whom I met for the first time that night, both seemed attractive at first. We arrived at a dance club in Burlingame around 10:00 and I bought the first round. Shortly, two more fellows arrived, also invited by the girl that invited me; I'll call her A, her friend B, and the two guys C and D. I knew little about A, less about B, and nothing about C or D. A and B both work in the same building as me, although for a different company. C or D (I forget which) works in Palo Alto and probably lives near there as well. A is in her late twenties/early thirties, as is B. A is of Philippino decent: dark brown hair, round face, brown almond eyes, around 5' tall, pretty. B describes herself as French. She has brown hair with blond streaks, wears a good amount of makeup on an otherwise pretty face, and is not skinny (a point she brought up on several occasions during the evening). C is a stocky young man, early twenties, clean cut, with short, blond hair. I believe he may have a tiny hoop earring in his right ear. D is also in his early twenties and clean-cut, but skinny with a somewhat high-pitched voice (for a man), and a thin layer of whiskers covering his chin. He reminds me a little bit of Pee Wee Herman, particularly when he busted out with the Beavis and Butthead impersonations (which I was very amused by), but I'm getting ahead of myself.
I kinda' liked A but I had no expectations of any sort. I didn't know if she had a boyfriend, if she was single, if she was gay, or what, and, living in California as I do, I take none of these things for granted. I was there to dance, drink, and have a good time, not score, so its all good. This didnt stop my eyes and mind from watching and analyzing, however.
At first, I thought I saw some kind of connection between her and D; I saw a lot of friendly contact between the two of them: arm around shoulder, hugs, that sort of thing. Nothing conclusive, in fact, most of what I saw would indicate they were just good friends. And that's fine with me. I think friends are great and am usually ready to make new ones. And, like I said, all I wanted was to dance, drink, and have a good time. My curiosity as to who belonged to who was a mild intellectual fascination. Later on in the evening, A began to receive a great deal of attention from C, including thighs being rubbed and additional contact of that nature on the dance floor. My curiosity turned to mild amusement as A once again became closer to D. All too soon, the lights came on and the music went off and everybody, including A, B, C, D, and me, started to leave.
A, who has gone to great lengths to make her light-weight status well known, made it clear that she did not feel comfortable driving. Replacement drivers were in limited supply because the car in which A drove us (A, B, and me) to the club is a stick. I volunteered but D trumped me because he had had no drinks while I had had three. I'm glad it worked out that way; I have a mildly sadistic streak in me and got a great kick out of watching D burn the clutch, spin the wheels, and/or stall the engine at every intersection. I only get to drive a stick about once a year, he confessed. Heh, you just keep on, buddy. Yer doin' fine heh heh.
So we finally make it to Denny's to enjoy some really crappy service and eat some really greasy food. Conversation was brisk and meaningless for the most part. The usual subjects came up. Earlier, during a rest from dancing, A had bluntly stated that she needed to get laid. Now she was saying that she didnt think sex was really all that important in a relationship. Obviously, A is psychotic, but the real proof of this was yet to come. I jokingly agreed that, as long as prostitutes are available, sex isnt important in a relationship. B bristled a bit at this and went on to make the point that if youre in a committed relationship it is not O.K. for your partner to have sex with someone else, a point with which actually I agree. I like the idea of prostitution but have never experienced it first-hand (unless you count working at Thriftys). Anywayz, B has her own issues as I was soon to find out.
I ate my saturated Super Bird with fries and had a couple sips of the most disgusting 7-UP Ive ever been served and piped up again on the topic of no sex before marriage. Thats insane. I blurted. Then, just to be difficult, I switched sides on the issue and positively described my Indian housemate and his imminent, pre-arranged marriage. I also described some friends of his that had recently stayed for the weekend and how they were married by arrangement and seemed perfectly happy and well-adjusted and attractive and nice, and for all intents and purposes seemed to be very much in love, holding hands and showing affection and so on. However, B has a friend, a young lady also from India that came to America for college, who is being subjugated by the arranged marriage concept. She, B and some other friends, evidently hid the aforementioned exchange student so that she could escape this predicament, perceived as a form persecution. Word is that her prospective husband was some sort of beast. Nothings perfect, I suppose. But sometimes I envy my house-mate: he spends most days largely unconcerned about scoring with the chicks, he seldom has to worry about learning a phone number or whether its too soon or too late or even pointless to call it, and he never has to feel like some sort of sub-human because some girl fanned his lights in favor of the biggest jerk in town. No, he doesnt.
On the way home, we ditched C and D and began our long journey back to Marin. B received about a dozen phone calls from someone she described as her ex- boyfriend. Thats right; her ex-boyfriend. Or so we were told. The ex-boyfriend was a fascinating fellow with some fascinating friends that [sarcasm] really made it clear why I, a comparatively boring individual, have such a hard time finding a date. This guy is evidently still living in the same apartment with B. Sleeping in separate beds, or so we are told. Except tonight he has brought a friend over because said friend drank too much and needed to be cared for in Bs apartment. Perhaps its a ploy so that ex-boyfriend can sleep in Bs bed while drunk friend sleeps in his. Isnt this fun? And it turns out that ex-boyfriends drunk friend is a real piece of work, too. This guy, were told, has a thing about body hair and so uses Nair to remove every follicle from his person. Yowza! And right now hes drunk, but not puking, in Bs bathroom. Oh yeah, we are having some fun now.
While B was talking to ex-boyfriend on the phone, A and I talked about her boyfriend, who as it turns out is neither of the guys we saw tonight. As boyfriend is in Bangkok for a year fucking around as A described it. This independently wealthy guy has left A with a nice new Jetta V6 to drive around, and presumably a house to live in while he just kinda hangs out halfway around the world. And now I think I can see where the sex isnt important thing was coming from. I know shes not getting anything from him while hes doing, I really dont even want to think about, whatever in Bangkok; probably she wasnt getting anything from him while he was here. So, yeah, sex would have to be marginalized in order to keep this catastrophe of a relationship going (and the car and stuff, of course).
Here we have two young ladies with decent jobs, decent looks, and decent personalities, and they are both emotionally crippled. Theyre both hanging on to crap relationships with jackasses while really good guys like myself are swimming around without so much as a life preserver in a sea of hostility generated by the psychotic American dating system. Theres no incentive to being a good guy because its the jackasses that get the attention, even physical abuse doesnt change these girls minds. As a nice guy, I keep finding myself in the role of psychiatrist, listening to girls talk about how good these guys are even though they, have no sense of decorum, care only for themselves, and occasionally throw a few punches. Most dont even have jobs. Are girls just really stupid? Granted, A is getting a lot of material benefit from her jackass boyfriend, but damn, what the hell is wrong with these people. I recently ended a relationship of about a year with a perfectly lovely lady. She was pretty, smart, had a good work ethic, and enjoyed sex. We broke up and got back together twice, but I finally had to end it in no uncertain terms because, despite all her attributes, she wasnt the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with and I knew that as long as she was around, I would never meet the person I really want. So I ended it. I took that relationship [figuratively] out behind the barn and put a bullet right between its eyes. Boom. Time to move on. Apparently, that makes me some sort of freak.
As we were driving down Van Ness, A began to talk about C and about how he had been really sleazy that night. Evidently, C had asked that A and B come back to his place because, I want to fuck you both. I professed queasiness at this point in order to change the subject. I made a nominal attempt at attributing my nausea to the Super Bird, but the subject was dropped and thats all that matters. Honestly, how do I get myself in to these situations in the first place? Nothing makes my skin crawl harder than suddenly realizing that I am in the middle of a girl-talk.
Upon returning to my car, I shook hands with B then A and then jumped out wishing them both a good night. Damn, it seems like every girl I come across is a complete freak, psycho, emotional basket case.
Oh well, dancing was fun. Next time, Im gonna spend more time on the floor and less time talking.
It's kinda crazy, the way things work out.
I didn't have high-hopes, so I wasn't disappointed. In truth, the dancing was fun. Healthy interpersonal relationships with members of the opposite sex continue to seem like something one can only read about in books, however. And, now that I think about it, those books are pretty damn rare, too.
The girl that invited me, whom I've met once or twice before through mutual friends, and her friend, whom I met for the first time that night, both seemed attractive at first. We arrived at a dance club in Burlingame around 10:00 and I bought the first round. Shortly, two more fellows arrived, also invited by the girl that invited me; I'll call her A, her friend B, and the two guys C and D. I knew little about A, less about B, and nothing about C or D. A and B both work in the same building as me, although for a different company. C or D (I forget which) works in Palo Alto and probably lives near there as well. A is in her late twenties/early thirties, as is B. A is of Philippino decent: dark brown hair, round face, brown almond eyes, around 5' tall, pretty. B describes herself as French. She has brown hair with blond streaks, wears a good amount of makeup on an otherwise pretty face, and is not skinny (a point she brought up on several occasions during the evening). C is a stocky young man, early twenties, clean cut, with short, blond hair. I believe he may have a tiny hoop earring in his right ear. D is also in his early twenties and clean-cut, but skinny with a somewhat high-pitched voice (for a man), and a thin layer of whiskers covering his chin. He reminds me a little bit of Pee Wee Herman, particularly when he busted out with the Beavis and Butthead impersonations (which I was very amused by), but I'm getting ahead of myself.
I kinda' liked A but I had no expectations of any sort. I didn't know if she had a boyfriend, if she was single, if she was gay, or what, and, living in California as I do, I take none of these things for granted. I was there to dance, drink, and have a good time, not score, so its all good. This didnt stop my eyes and mind from watching and analyzing, however.
At first, I thought I saw some kind of connection between her and D; I saw a lot of friendly contact between the two of them: arm around shoulder, hugs, that sort of thing. Nothing conclusive, in fact, most of what I saw would indicate they were just good friends. And that's fine with me. I think friends are great and am usually ready to make new ones. And, like I said, all I wanted was to dance, drink, and have a good time. My curiosity as to who belonged to who was a mild intellectual fascination. Later on in the evening, A began to receive a great deal of attention from C, including thighs being rubbed and additional contact of that nature on the dance floor. My curiosity turned to mild amusement as A once again became closer to D. All too soon, the lights came on and the music went off and everybody, including A, B, C, D, and me, started to leave.
A, who has gone to great lengths to make her light-weight status well known, made it clear that she did not feel comfortable driving. Replacement drivers were in limited supply because the car in which A drove us (A, B, and me) to the club is a stick. I volunteered but D trumped me because he had had no drinks while I had had three. I'm glad it worked out that way; I have a mildly sadistic streak in me and got a great kick out of watching D burn the clutch, spin the wheels, and/or stall the engine at every intersection. I only get to drive a stick about once a year, he confessed. Heh, you just keep on, buddy. Yer doin' fine heh heh.
So we finally make it to Denny's to enjoy some really crappy service and eat some really greasy food. Conversation was brisk and meaningless for the most part. The usual subjects came up. Earlier, during a rest from dancing, A had bluntly stated that she needed to get laid. Now she was saying that she didnt think sex was really all that important in a relationship. Obviously, A is psychotic, but the real proof of this was yet to come. I jokingly agreed that, as long as prostitutes are available, sex isnt important in a relationship. B bristled a bit at this and went on to make the point that if youre in a committed relationship it is not O.K. for your partner to have sex with someone else, a point with which actually I agree. I like the idea of prostitution but have never experienced it first-hand (unless you count working at Thriftys). Anywayz, B has her own issues as I was soon to find out.
I ate my saturated Super Bird with fries and had a couple sips of the most disgusting 7-UP Ive ever been served and piped up again on the topic of no sex before marriage. Thats insane. I blurted. Then, just to be difficult, I switched sides on the issue and positively described my Indian housemate and his imminent, pre-arranged marriage. I also described some friends of his that had recently stayed for the weekend and how they were married by arrangement and seemed perfectly happy and well-adjusted and attractive and nice, and for all intents and purposes seemed to be very much in love, holding hands and showing affection and so on. However, B has a friend, a young lady also from India that came to America for college, who is being subjugated by the arranged marriage concept. She, B and some other friends, evidently hid the aforementioned exchange student so that she could escape this predicament, perceived as a form persecution. Word is that her prospective husband was some sort of beast. Nothings perfect, I suppose. But sometimes I envy my house-mate: he spends most days largely unconcerned about scoring with the chicks, he seldom has to worry about learning a phone number or whether its too soon or too late or even pointless to call it, and he never has to feel like some sort of sub-human because some girl fanned his lights in favor of the biggest jerk in town. No, he doesnt.
On the way home, we ditched C and D and began our long journey back to Marin. B received about a dozen phone calls from someone she described as her ex- boyfriend. Thats right; her ex-boyfriend. Or so we were told. The ex-boyfriend was a fascinating fellow with some fascinating friends that [sarcasm] really made it clear why I, a comparatively boring individual, have such a hard time finding a date. This guy is evidently still living in the same apartment with B. Sleeping in separate beds, or so we are told. Except tonight he has brought a friend over because said friend drank too much and needed to be cared for in Bs apartment. Perhaps its a ploy so that ex-boyfriend can sleep in Bs bed while drunk friend sleeps in his. Isnt this fun? And it turns out that ex-boyfriends drunk friend is a real piece of work, too. This guy, were told, has a thing about body hair and so uses Nair to remove every follicle from his person. Yowza! And right now hes drunk, but not puking, in Bs bathroom. Oh yeah, we are having some fun now.
While B was talking to ex-boyfriend on the phone, A and I talked about her boyfriend, who as it turns out is neither of the guys we saw tonight. As boyfriend is in Bangkok for a year fucking around as A described it. This independently wealthy guy has left A with a nice new Jetta V6 to drive around, and presumably a house to live in while he just kinda hangs out halfway around the world. And now I think I can see where the sex isnt important thing was coming from. I know shes not getting anything from him while hes doing, I really dont even want to think about, whatever in Bangkok; probably she wasnt getting anything from him while he was here. So, yeah, sex would have to be marginalized in order to keep this catastrophe of a relationship going (and the car and stuff, of course).
Here we have two young ladies with decent jobs, decent looks, and decent personalities, and they are both emotionally crippled. Theyre both hanging on to crap relationships with jackasses while really good guys like myself are swimming around without so much as a life preserver in a sea of hostility generated by the psychotic American dating system. Theres no incentive to being a good guy because its the jackasses that get the attention, even physical abuse doesnt change these girls minds. As a nice guy, I keep finding myself in the role of psychiatrist, listening to girls talk about how good these guys are even though they, have no sense of decorum, care only for themselves, and occasionally throw a few punches. Most dont even have jobs. Are girls just really stupid? Granted, A is getting a lot of material benefit from her jackass boyfriend, but damn, what the hell is wrong with these people. I recently ended a relationship of about a year with a perfectly lovely lady. She was pretty, smart, had a good work ethic, and enjoyed sex. We broke up and got back together twice, but I finally had to end it in no uncertain terms because, despite all her attributes, she wasnt the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with and I knew that as long as she was around, I would never meet the person I really want. So I ended it. I took that relationship [figuratively] out behind the barn and put a bullet right between its eyes. Boom. Time to move on. Apparently, that makes me some sort of freak.
As we were driving down Van Ness, A began to talk about C and about how he had been really sleazy that night. Evidently, C had asked that A and B come back to his place because, I want to fuck you both. I professed queasiness at this point in order to change the subject. I made a nominal attempt at attributing my nausea to the Super Bird, but the subject was dropped and thats all that matters. Honestly, how do I get myself in to these situations in the first place? Nothing makes my skin crawl harder than suddenly realizing that I am in the middle of a girl-talk.
Upon returning to my car, I shook hands with B then A and then jumped out wishing them both a good night. Damn, it seems like every girl I come across is a complete freak, psycho, emotional basket case.
Oh well, dancing was fun. Next time, Im gonna spend more time on the floor and less time talking.