Whiskey Wisdom

Barbershop called. I told him I was busy tonight. Went to a holiday party at Vagina Jane’s house. Saw some of the friends from the old neighborhood, which was cool. Got to see Ronnie. He always makes me smile. I stay a couple hours, eat too many dips, bid everyone a happy holiday and then head back to my house to get ready for my night.

Dorothy and I head to the bar. It is unusually quiet tonight. A former NFL player takes a seat next to us at the bar and begins buying us drinks. Round after round after round. This guy is hilarious, although completely full of himself. He starts calling me Fire Eyes because he said I seem sweet and my eyes look like ice but there is a fire burning in them. I play along and ask him what he means. He says that many men have tried to tame me but none have yet deserved my heart. He then tells me that I am a comforter. Everyone’s “safe place” and that I love taking care of others. I tell him to shut up because he’s starting to freak me out. I decided from now on I must try to mask my vulnerabilities better. Or not hang out with such good guessers.

He tells us that if we are going to give a man our time that he must in someway enhance our lives. He looks us both in the eye and tells us the men we have now aren’t doing that for us. And something about not giving the ones who could a chance. Dude, like I’ve never heard that before. Sca has been telling me I sabotage my happiness for years. Thanks for the update.

He tells Dorothy she talks to much and is selfish. He bets her he can’t go thirty minutes without talking. She does but it nearly kills her. Hilarious! Poor thing. God knows I couldn’t go that long without saying a word. Seriously! I mean, I even talk in my sleep. The only way you’re shutting me up is if I’m gagged and bound. And I’m not sure that would work.

Sam shows up with his buddy and they follow Dorothy and I back to our house. We sit around drinking and talking. His buddy starts getting a little too friendly. Keeps asking me if I want a massage and yada yada. Apparently I met him one night at Gloves but I don’t remember him. That should tell you something. Anyway, he’s pushing and pushing and finally he just snaps. “So what, you’re not interested or something? Is that it?” What did this dumbass think was going to happen? Seriously! You tell me I’m pretty and offer a massage and think I’m going to do the semen salsa with you? Get a fucking grip, moron. You’ve in no way enhanced my life and therefore, I cannot be bothered. New rules. And what I really wanted to blurt out is “Sure, as long as you don’t care I’m sleeping with your friend Gloves too!” Would love to see how he reacted to that. And just as I’m thinking that, who should call? Gloves, of course. Hooray for him reading my mind when I’m in need. I've never been so happy to take a call.