A Bad Man in a Bad Place

Last night was the big gay party for the pride parade in new york. By big gay party I mean 10 fags and their hags, or thereabouts, at a bar whose name is also the nickname for a penis, and every single one of them had the fag thing happening. Good looking men, whom women would drool over, all buffed out like super heros, cruising one another. Sid and I got uncomfortable and left. I considered using the bathroom after being promised there were no glory holes, but then I didn't, as I was disappointed there were no glory holes.
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"I need a favor"
"Ok."
"I need you to come out with me tonight."
"Ok."
"My ex, you remember the ugly impotent one with the exgirlfriend he couldn't get over? He's going to be at a party that I'm going to and I can't show up alone."
"Ok. I'll be your escort. What does this require? Me being all over you? Making out with you?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"I can do that."

Conversation between my friend sororitygirl and I. Actually, I think Sororitygirl may have been a classmate of Sid's Natalie.

I met her and her friend dourasiangirl at a cheesy faux pub in midtown and proceeded to go to "Light." A more low-brow faux-Miami establishment I haven't seen since I don't know when.

She told all of her friends that we were dating, that I'm a lawyer at the firm I'm about to start working at. That we've been dating a few weeks. She bought all my drinks for me, and my job was to be erudite and available to make out with.

I'm a freakin' escort.
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Trippin? 12 years since meeting my hot and now thoroughly inked up best friend from high school, the 6'2 blonde head turner, I finally fucked her last night.

Ending my dry spell.

Of course, during much of it I was still yearning for the Cuban.

So: woman I should have dated in high school I finally fuck after 12 years and I think about the Cuban I dated for two months during the fucking. NOW WHO'S TRIPPIN?
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My personal ad from hell:

Must be willing to fall in love overnight only to remember a month afterwards that there are residual unresolved issues with your ex. Must be willing to leave me without looking back when this happens. Must be so beautiful that people get into accidents when you walk down the street. Together, we must stop traffic. Ability to deceive a major plus. Desire to maintain "friendship" after the initial courtship is over is extremely important. Must have large drug habit and no desire to quit. Must have a badunkadunk butt.

I've had two of these and fallen in love twice. Third time is the charm.
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Fuck you, Jarvis. I haven't woken up next to a woman like that in months.

Of course, I actually had the following conversation with an ex yesterday.

"Hi Bad Man."
"Hi."
"So I want to set you up with my friend."
"Right."
"She's very cool, and looking to set up an escort service."
"Ok..."
"She and her friends are all escorts, as well as their day jobs, and they don't like the people they're working for."
"Ok."
"So she wants to become a madame. Plus, she's got the same personality as you, I think you'd really like each other, she's looking for someone to fuck."
"Set it up."

So I don't have to wake up next to an Ibiza going london jaunting trust fund baby, I used to wake up to a Miami jaunting Ibiza going sexy Cuban.

Hell, now I just wake up to freakin' Sid. Sid, don't get me wrong baby, I love yah, but if I'm going out chasing skirts _with_ you, and we go home together after failing in our mission, well, it's depressing.

I agree with you on the born not bred thing, Sid. No tingles from boys but tingles from girls? That's gods little hint. "HEY YOU ARE A LESBIAN." So to all you boys out there bugging Sid, and to all the ladies that claim that they were "turned bi at their boarding school" a big fat fuck you. That's like telling me I should start sucking cock because I'd like it if only I could get over the traumatic incident in the shower with my priest when I was four.

I'm freakin' Jewish, there was no priest. I was not abused, molested, assaulted, touched in a funny way, charmed, raped, did the nono, walked off with a grownup, accepted candy from a stranger or in any other way got fucked up as a child. In fact, the most fucked up thing that happened to me was that I lead a really boring normal life.

I don't apologize for being straight, damnit. It's just who I am. I like to eat red meat, too, and I don't apologize for that, either. I like to get blowjobs and to bend a woman over. None of this has to do with an some traumatic episode when I was young. This is all just how I am. And don't think you can "change" me. I'm not just "waiting for the right man to come along."

Christ.
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I discovered Tequila over the weekend. So far Tequila has led me to smooch an exgirlfriends roommate (although not deeply nor really, it's quite a breach) to be overly touchy with a lesbian (I'm surprised I didn't get kneed in the nuts) and there should be a third thing here for purposes of my rhetoric, but I'm down to just the two. I'll have some Cuervo tonight and see what sort of damage I can do.
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I got a fortune cookie over the weekend. It said simply "Why Not?" So I'm working with that.
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I responded to a few personal ads over on Nerve. In one of them, I said that if she was looking for an interesting new friend, she should email me back. Of course, in my profile, I didn't say I was looking for friends, just dates, sex partners and relationships. Here was her response:

> I haven't been e-mailed by anyone quite that bad yet... I noticed in your
> message you mentioned being friends, but not in your profile--not a big deal,
> just curious (and I know where that got the cat.)

Can't a guy just be friendly? I mean, from her photo and her ad, mostly I'd like to chain her to the radiator for the weekend and do things illegal in 27 states with her and maybe her best friend, but still, a guy's gotta be friendly at least at the outset.

And she just notified me that she's moving to Cali for the summer. This day gets better and better.
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My job got onerous today. I don't mind the other attorneys, secretaries or even real estate brokers. But the clients I want to kill.
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Sales clerk that bad man is chatting with: You remind me of my uncle.
bad man: I hope that's not a bad thing.
SC: Well, my uncle is really attractive.
bad man: Right on.
SC: But obnoxious.
bad man: Of course.
SC: I'm not saying that that's your personality too, just that you remind me of him. It's the voice.
bad man: Reminds me of the time that a blonde said to me "you're a nine, but with your personality, you're a three."

Bitches. Shit.

Also today:
Scene: outdoor party for Organic Grooves, which is shuttering it's doors. Music blaring, people smiling and drinking.
Cool and very hot Friend of bad man's: Dude, what's your problem?
bad man: It's stupid, I don't want to talk about it.
CFobm: Dude, you can tell me.
bad man: It's all in my head, I'll be fine soon.
CFobm: My MOM says you're offputting. What's wrong?
bad man: I've got that stupid girl stuck in my head from months ago. That, and I'm having a massive dose of fear, loathing and self doubt.
CFobm: [physically shakes bad man] Hello?? You're outside on a beautiful day, surrounded by beautiful people, you're beautiful yourself, get out there and shake your ass and stop being an asshole.
[bad man proceeds to dance for two hours]
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On a Match dot com date last night, I discovered in the first ten minutes that she likes tall guys (and estimates my height at 6'0, so much for my mental 5'10) guys with short hair (see below on haircut) and she went to Harvard.

Subtly slipped in there.

I've heard Harvard called the H bomb for women. As soon as a man hears that you went there, the man's eyes glaze over and he becomes a dear in headlights.

I'm not intimidated by Harvard or Yale anymore than I'm intimidated by Scores or Tens. Fuck 'em, they're just people. People that need to fuck and shit just like me. Well, not like me, the scores girls fuck like me and the harvard girls shit like me. I haven't fucked a harvard girl yet, but if some ivy league chick sings her alma mater when I'm going down on her, I swear to god, I'm gonna get up and tell her to finish herself off. I mean, shit, if I finish up and she says "wow, it was never that good at haaaarvard" I'll kick her out of my apartment naked. Then again, she'd probably like that. If you wouldn't say that to me after fucking you, why say it in the first ten minutes of meeting you?

Contrary to popular belief, I didn't take this girl home, nor even try. I don't know how I got a reputation as a player. I'm not a player, I just crush a lot. Oh, and don't hate the player, hate the game.

I got home, and received instant messages from an old fuck friend of mine. I told her that most of what I need right now is a blowjob and a new job. She offered to let me chain her to my bed for the weekend in a few weeks. Sounds ideal. Unfortunately, she doesn't live in this state. If I pay trainfare, however, I get a sex slave for the weekend. I think I'm getting the better end of the deal.
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On a Match dot com date last night, I discovered in the first ten minutes that she likes tall guys (and estimates my height at 6'0, so much for my mental 5'10) guys with short hair (see below on haircut) and she went to Harvard.

Subtly slipped in there.

I've heard Harvard called the H bomb for women. As soon as a man hears that you went there, the man's eyes glaze over and he becomes a dear in headlights.

I'm not intimidated by Harvard or Yale anymore than I'm intimidated by Scores or Tens. Fuck 'em, they're just people. People that need to fuck and shit just like me. Well, not like me, the scores girls fuck like me and the harvard girls shit like me. I haven't fucked a harvard girl yet, but if some ivy league chick sings her alma mater when I'm going down on her, I swear to god, I'm gonna get up and tell her to finish herself off. I mean, shit, if I finish up and she says "wow, it was never that good at haaaarvard" I'll kick her out of my apartment naked. Then again, she'd probably like that. If you wouldn't say that to me after fucking you, why say it in the first ten minutes of meeting you?

Contrary to popular belief, I didn't take this girl home, nor even try. I don't know how I got a reputation as a player. I'm not a player, I just crush a lot. Oh, and don't hate the player, hate the game.

I got home, and received instant messages from an old fuck friend of mine. I told her that most of what I need right now is a blowjob and a new job. She offered to let me chain her to my bed for the weekend in a few weeks. Sounds ideal. Unfortunately, she doesn't live in this state. If I pay trainfare, however, I get a sex slave for the weekend. I think I'm getting the better end of the deal.
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And I just realized:

I'm not Mr. Right. I'm Mr. "Right there, a little higher, lower, to the left, RIGHT FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUCKING THERE"
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bad man (7:13:48 PM): you're single? Come out here. I could use some booty. I'll give you birthday anal.
oldfriendofbad mans (7:13:56 PM): lol
oldfriendofbad mans (7:14:04 PM): is that a new technique?
oldfriendofbad mans (7:14:07 PM): birthday anal?
bad man (7:14:14 PM): yeah. I stick a candle up your ass.
oldfriendofbad mans (7:14:17 PM): is that different from everyday anal
oldfriendofbad mans (7:14:21 PM): LMAO
oldfriendofbad mans (7:14:26 PM): good one
bad man (7:14:31 PM): thanks.
oldfriendofbad mans (7:14:36 PM): is it lit?
bad man (7:14:42 PM): can be.
oldfriendofbad mans (7:14:51 PM): cool
oldfriendofbad mans (7:15:00 PM): i'm still laughing
bad man (7:15:13 PM): hell, we lay you face down, stick a candle in your ass, light it, and your friends sing happy birthday to you.
oldfriendofbad mans (7:15:35 PM): and everyone else gets to make a wish?
oldfriendofbad mans (7:17:35 PM): wow... you really aren't getting any, are you?
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When the fuck did Match dot com get populated by a ton of hotties?
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Things to report from Reunion 2002 for class of 1997 at a former seven sisters college that is now coed.

1) The current students make me weep for the future. Porn star chic is in with the ladies (nice!) while fratboy chic is in with the men, leader to a near bench clearing brawl.

Girl, class of 2002: Are you an alum?
Bad Man: Yeah. 97.
Girl: I hope we've been living up to your expectations. We've gotten pretty wild. [grabs breasts]
Bad: I'm sure you're doing just fine.
Girl: We've been pretty raunchy [wriggles in seat]
Bad: I'm glad to hear it.
Girl: Like getting naked in the library.
Bad: That's cool. We used to fuck in the Stacks downstairs.
Girl: No, I mean, like, getting naked in the general area where everyone is. I'm on film!
Bad: Right on.
Girl: [grabs Bad, kisses him, and then walks away]

2) Reunion is apparently a time to vent old frustrations and pent up hostilities.

Bad: I just wanted to tell you, you look stunning tonight.
Girl: Thanks. Here's that drink I promised you last night. Oh yeah - you said the single meanest thing anyone has ever said to me.
Bad: [adopts defensive posture] I did? When?
Girl: Freshman year
Bad: Christ, what'd I say?
Girl: [repeated portion omitted]
Bad: Wow. I'm a dick. I'm sorry.
Girl: I feel much better now. Nine years of hating you, alleviated in one night. Give me a hug. [Exceedingly tall girl in heels hugs Bad into her bosom]
Bad: [thinking: What the fuck is going on here?] I'm so sorry. I had no idea. You're misinterpreting what I said. You should just have come to me.
Girl's friend: How could she talk to you? You were busy sleeping your way around campus.
Bad: I slept with three people while I was at that college, I don't know what you're talking about.
Girl's friend: Only pretty people? Jesus, Bad, I know you're shallow, but come on.
Bad: THREE. THE NUMBER.
Girl's friend: Oh. That's not what I heard.
Bad: Who the hell was talking about me?
Girl: Well, after my other friend C broke up with you and wouldn't even tell _me_ why, and we never figured out why, we just all decided to hate you.
Bad: Christ. You don't know why EITHER?
Girl: We assumed you knew.
Bad: I have no idea why she dumped me, she won't talk to me to this day. Find out and call me.
Girl: Right.
[this terminates soon after with an admonition by Girl's Friend that men at this college were all horrible, she never would look at any of them and she was upset because she never once got laid when she was a student.]

3) Reunion is a great time to reminisce
Friend: Yeah, so for my birthday I asked my girlfriend Junior year for a threesome.
Bad: What'd she say?
Friend: Well, first I suggested her friend Swedishgirl, to which I was summarily slapped.
Bad: Figures
Friend: Then I turned it on her - who would it be, I asked her.
Bad: And?
Friend: She said [Bad's exgirlfriend from Sophomore year]. She became a slut after you were done with her. Hangon, she was with you for a year, she was a slut then too. Anyway, girlfriend said simply "I want to see what all the hubbub is about."

4) Reunion is a great time to make new friends out of people that used to see you around.
Woman who has put on 40 pounds: You don't know me but I used to sit next to you at the editorial board meetings of the school paper.
Bad: Uh, hi.
Woman: Can I buy you a drink?
Bad: I'm ok, I've got this.
Woman: Ok. Well, here's to the school paper.
Bad: Here's to it.

Also several incidences of "nice to meet you, I was in X class with you, and you didn't know me."

Five years until the next one.

I'm sending thank you postcards to all the nice people that took the time to berate me for being a bad person during reunion.
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I should stop making fun of sid for the fat chick. I mean, I dated her, so she can't be _That_ bad, right?

Could be worse. You could be turning chicks down for the memory of a chick you'll never speak to again.

You could be in love with a girl who can't form emotional attachments.

You could have hair like mine.

You could be addicted to cheesy music.

Just remember - you're not russian. For you, either the glass is half empty or half full. For us, the glass is cracked and slowly draining.
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In Police Academy, two of the new recruits go to the barber, sit down and say "take it all off" before some other dude sits down and asks for a little off the sides and a little off the top.

Incredulous, our insipid heroes stare at their bald-ass selves and feel like fucking idiots.

I just got back from the barber.

On anyone else, this would be a great haircut. A phenomenal haircut.

However. I've had women stop me in the street because of my hair. I've had women walk up behind me in public and play with my hair.

So today I went to the barber and asked for a bit off the sides, but leave it curly on top because my curls are my best feature.

I look like a freakin' aryan nation member.

Not like I have a photo shoot for a newspaper in four days, my college reunion all weekend and a date on Monday night or anything. Thank you god for making it absolutely impossible for me to get things right.

Oh, and Sid, she's fat. Stay the fuck away from her. Her and her prep school kind. Fat 29 year old former prep school brats who have slept with and/or dated your friends, whom all your friends hate, are probably good people to stay the fuck away from. I'm just saying.
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Shit. Those sissys over at the girls side think that they're trippin? Damn.

I'll tell you about trippin'.

Trippin' is falling in love with a Cuban with a boyfriend.

Trippin' is never doing anything because it's too much work, and then bitching because you're not doing anything.

Trippin' is having a lesbian that sleeps on your couch, effectively cockblocking you because everyone you meet assumes you're dating or married.

Trippin' is bitching about your job but not changing your job.

Trippin' is getting all stupid over some fat chick. That's Sid's problem. She's fat, sid. You can do better. You _have_ done better.

That's some of the trippin' shit around here lately. There's more.
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