A Bad Man in a Bad Place

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I told The Writer just now - “If my ego had a vagina, I’d totally fuck it. Hello? I’m a Leo and a narcissist.”

“Do you know what that means? That means your masturbatory, self congratulatory, and your attitude is a pointless exercise in jerking off.”

“Tell me more about me, please?” I think if she’d been sitting closer to me, she might have hit me.

UPDATE:

“I just think you’re a pompous A-Hole sometimes.”

“Yes, but I’m cute!”

“You are, and you better be glad I think so” she scolded.

The Writer and I have been having a lazy day in bed and talking through some issues - there always have to be some, right?
After we got past those and I gave her a good cropping as punishment for the things that were making her upset, we found each other arm in arm and giggling, talking politics.
I started to whisper sweet nothings in her ear. What are the kinds of thing that make a Democrat horny for their sheer filth?
“Trickle Down Economics” *smack*
“Conservative fiscal policy” *smack*
“We should go into Syria next” *smack*
To which she responded “you have to stop, you’re REALLY turning me on.”

“Why haven’t you commented on my bangs, Bad Man? I have bangs for the first time ever!”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed. I just thought you lost weight.”

“Are you a writer?”
“Yes, of sorts.”
“You look like one. You’ve got that look of angst about you.” Ah. Thanks. And you look like an Aussie Rules Football meathead. I shouldn’t judge though, he was very friendly. “So what do you think I should do about the fact that those frat boys keep hitting on my wife?”
“Dip her and give her a deep kiss, and then say ’should we go then, lass?’ That’ll make them wonder.” He looked pensive at that suggestion. As I left the bar, the last thing I saw was him speaking with two guys, while a third guy got her number into his phone. I thought about jumping in for a minute and helping him out, but I didn’t know him. The scene seemed sort of like jackals going in for a kill on a lion, but there was nothing to be done. The number was given, the drunk australian was chumming up with the wingmen, and I was not hopeful for anyone’s chances. I paid and left.
Instead of caring, though, I spent the walk home ruminating on the “you look like a writer” comment. This echoes the line I heard when I was 17 - “he’s so mysterious.” I think Gentleman Whore is likely right, I am an introvert. Not shy, just introverted.
There’s probably more to say on this topic, but the whiskey has just overtaken my good sense and I’m going to avoid things that emit light for awhile now.

In conversation with BestFriendFromCollege tonight, the following:

Me: yeah, so, there’s the girl from LA (not Surfette), and July4 called again, and the girl from my high school, and the actress girl and on and on and suddenly I’m getting attention again.
BFFC: I bought a flame thrower this weekend.
Me: I’m so much cooler than you. And you are so much weirder than anyone I know.
BFFC: We were going to cast Silver bullets this weekend, but we ran into some hiccups.
Me: No werewolves to kill?
BFFC: Wrong kind of moulds. I do plan to go hunting this winter, but I don’t know what to do with a dead deer. Apparently you start at the ass and cut out the insides. So maybe, I’ll do that in lieu of paintball. Since I’m not chasing the ladies, I’ve got to find my entertainment elsewhere.

He said all of this with a straight face. And wasn’t kidding. I should point out that he lives in the sticks in Rhode Island, and not here in New York.

The party ended, it seemed, as everyone else was wending their way out the door. “You’ll be staying the night?” I was asked. So, I did.

Two hours into the night, she looks me in the eye and says “are we done talking yet?” and then kisses me.

I saw The Beauty tonight after a long absence, several years, interrupted by one brief lunch.

She and I were talking about love, love lost, love found, and I told her about this blog, although not the name or how to find it. I told her stories of my recent encounters and

“You’re not the boy I knew.”

“I know. I grew up.”

“I liked that boy.”

“I did too.”

“You had such a crush on me.”

“I know. I was a puppy.”

“It was beautiful, I didn’t think anyone like you could have a crush on me” mental note - absolutely fucking beautiful women have self doubt too.

“You knew the whole time?”

“Of course I did. Remember when we went up to that cabin?”

“Of course I do.” I posted it here. I remember it well.

“You were so nervous, it was so cute. You had me on such a pedestal. I remember sitting on the couch and you just talking and talking and talking. What did I say to you? ‘Do you want to sleep with me?’”

“I’m pretty sure you said ‘It’s really cold in my bedroom. Come and cuddle with me, and keep me warm tonight.’”

“Really?” She laughed at me, and herself.

“Not that I remember it verbatim or anything.”

We spoke some more about my ascent from timid boy to bad man, about how she missed the boy but was impressed with the man. Any validation I’d ever sought was there, summed up in that moment.

“I hope that that weekend we had was in some way instrumental.”

“Honey, that’s what started it all off. That weekend is what gave me the ability to seduce The Cuban. And after that, well, that’s how it all came to be.”

She seemed pleased with that. We talked for awhile longer, about her lover, my sadistic urges, and on and on and on for five hours. Eventually, I told her I had to get dinner (it was 11 o’clock) and that she should walk me there. She took me by the arm, and we walked down the street to my destination. A few doors away, she realized friends of hers were bartending, so she gave me a kiss and a hug and said goodbye. And then we started talking a little more, and another hug, another kiss, and I considered things for all of one split second before disentangling myself, smiling, and walking away. She’ll always have a place in my heart, and I’ll always have a place in hers. That’ll be enough.

TaiChi and I went out to dinner last night for burgers at Stand and the conversation inevitably turned to women. As my wing and a natural red blooded Latino male, TaiChi has, for many years, been a partner in crime and wing. We’ve gotten into a fair bit of fun together, talking to strange women in bars, on the street, in parks, at the movies, wherever. TaiChi approaches with Machismo, and I lean back like a spider in his web, waiting as they are driven to the more harmless looking of the two of us. And then I strike.

Imagine my surprise last night when he revealed that his girlfriend of four months, the one from Ireland, is pregnant. And he’s the father. And they’re getting married after the birth.

What?

Apparently, European is the new blond.

We had a long talk about his proclivities, his impending fatherhood, my lifestyle choices, his choices, and at the end of the day, I’m happy for him. I’m surprised, I have to admit - he struck me as a perennial bachelor. But I met his girl, or bird as she would call herself, and the two of them together were pretty good. They got along well, she made him happy and kept him on the path.

I wish him well.

As we were leaving dinner and walking through Union Square, I pointed out the upside of this for me, which is that he’s not going to be able to fight his nature, he’s going to continue to rampantly flirt. And there I will be, looking harmless, like a spider in my web, waiting.

Met a woman from my program some time ago and had drinks with her tonight. Well, by drinks I mean club soda since I’m off drinking for the moment.

When told the story of meeting Surfette she looked confused that women approached men in bars. Told me that she’d heard a story of the same sort of thing from one of my impending classmates this past weekend. She seemed surprised that women pick up men in this town. I hardly knew what to say it’s happened often enough to me and those that I know. She pointed out that it was obvious why I got picked up by women, I’m cute. Interesting data point. Not that a man wants to hear “cute” as that’s mainly reserved for puppies and kittens, but ok, I suppose it’s better than many of the alternatives.

Been working out again lately. Seems to be working, body is changing faster than expected. Kinda like that. Maybe I’ll post a fan service picture of the body once it’s ready.