Can't Fight The Funk

DG is in a heinous mood today. Not at me but I get to hear him go on about it for the entire duration of what should’ve been my lunch break. I feel bad for him and reassure him this is something everyone goes through. I even cute text him in the afternoon: smile. everything will work out. xoxoxo.

9 PM To the bar to meet up with Freak Mama. I mingle about, saying hello to my usual admirers. I shoot the shit with Penguin and CC. I am on official cock-blocking patrol for Freak Mama from G-Man. I’m barking with the rest of the bar every time I order my doggie style drink. The night is young and going splendidly. Then I feel two arms wrap around my neck and squeeze me tightly. A pair of warm lips press against my cheek. I look to Freak Mama and she rolls her eyes. Instantly I know it’s MOB. He tells me how he tried calling me earlier today. Funny, my phone never rang but nice try. He just wanted to come up and check on me. I assure him I’m fine, better than ever, swell as hell. He doesn’t seem to believe me. He gives me a little extra attention. I don’t fold.

FB shows up and we start playing darts with the rest of the crew. Despite our talk the week before he is particularly friendly again. We become our usual flirty selves as we play darts, including the overuse of hugs and a few quick cheek kisses. MOB approaches, apparently bothered by our display of affection. For the first time ever instead of backing off, FB steps it up. His show of affection is contagious and I can’t help but return despite the looks I’m receiving from MOB. I go to the restroom. When I return MOB is standing at the jukebox. “Old Friend” is standing next to him. He sees me and grabs my arm as I pass. “I played something for you.” I ask which one. He says I’ll know it when I hear it. I doubt that I say, a little on the tipsy side. He says he’ll tap me on the shoulder so I know. I give him a kiss on the cheek and a sweet smile before I return to darts. Old Friend glares at us both. I give her my best Miss America smile and find my way back to FB and our dart board. In the next half an hour I get tapped by MOB twice. Both are sweet slow songs. One is about how much the man loves the girl and the other about how much the man wishes he could have the girl back. The third song I don’t need a tap. I hear the first two notes and turn to look at him across the room. He smiles. I smile back. It’s our song.

Last Call
MOB approaches to say goodbye. He asks if I’m okay. I know I’m swaying. “I don’t think I can drive home.” He says that he would drive me home but he has to go to a party with his friends. “You’re an asshole. I don’t want you to take me home. Just call me a cab.” I go to pay my bill. He has disappeared when I return.

I stumble to my car. MOB’s is parked next to mine. If I didn’t love my new pimp ride I would seriously crash mine into his and make him regret not getting me that cab. But instead I climb into my car and sit. No way am I making it home in my condition. As I pick up my phone to call my roommates it begins ringing. It’s FB.

Me: Hello?
FB: Where are you?
Me: Where are you? (I giggle)
FB: Where are you?
I see him come around the front of the bar.

Me: Watching you.
FB: This isn’t funny.
Me: Yes it is.

He scratches his head.

Me: Does your head itch? (I giggle)
FB: Okay, I give up. Where are you?
Me: In my car across the street.
FB: Don’t move. I’m on my way.

I blink my lights at him. He crosses the street and comes up to my door.

Me: What’s up, sexy?
FB: Scoot over.
Me: I’m fine.
FB: Fine, yes. Able to drive, no. Scoot over.

Ah, my knight in shining armor. As we drive away he takes my hand.

FB: Why do you let him do that to you?
Me: Let who do what?
FB: Stress you like that. I see the way you get when he comes in there. I’m not the only one who notices it.
Me: I don’t get like anything.
FB: You get an attitude and you get pissy.
Me: No, I don’t.
FB: Yes, you do. I thought you were over him.
Me: I am over him! I’m soooo over him. I don’t think I’ve ever been over someone like this in my entire life.
FB: You’re gonna go back to him.
Me: I’d rather go back to Jason Thunberg.
FB: Who?
Me: My boyfriend in the sixth grade that used to throw sand down my pants at recess.

We both laugh. I can’t deny the fact that I’m ridiculous and slurring or how good his hand feels in mind. We continue to talk on the short drive to the house. At some point, for some reason I hear him say “I don’t think you could handle it if we hooked up.” Now, I’m not sure if this is like a double-dog-dare thing or if he’s being sincere. I tell him I wouldn’t want to ruin his future sex life by getting involved with him because he’d never find someone to fulfill him like I could. He loves when I get sassy.

We pull into the garage and he turns off the car. I thank him. He kisses me. I kiss him back. I pull away and remind him that we’re not supposed to make out anymore. He agrees but then pulls me in for more. I doth not protest. Eventually we pull apart as he remembers that Preach is waiting outside to take him home.

I go inside and stumble up to my room, strip down to nothing and fall into bed. I remember that DG was supposed to call when he got off work. I check my phone. There are no missed or incoming calls from him so I decide to give him a call. He is in a worse mood then he was earlier in the day. He snaps at me and I hang up on him. Ass. I’m the one person out here who’s trying to help you. Do not bite the hand that feeds you or whatever that dumb saying is. Or is it something about a gift horse’s mouth? Man, I'm loaded. Anyway…

I turn off the light and my phone rings. I assume it’s DG. I answer with my bitchiest “Yeah?” It’s FB making sure I made it inside okay. I assure him I did but let him know if he wants to come tuck me in he is more than welcome. He wants to and I know it. But we both know he shouldn’t. We bid each other sweet dreams and hang up. My phone rings thirty seconds later. “You ready to tuck me in?” I ask. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.” Shit, it’s not FB. It’s DG. We talk until three o’clock in the morning. Let me rephrase that, he rants and raves and I listen, fighting off sleep.