Marriage, midgets and inexact bus fare
It appears that I have regained my sense of humor. Last night I met up with C, whom I had not seen for quite a while. He wanted the lowdown on B and I sort of hemmed and hawed and finally admitted that I am confused about him, I likely hopped into bed with him too quickly, and there seems to be a lot of drama surrounding the relationship. His advice was that I should have a few guys on the go, and that I should “string them along” until I pick the best candidate. I was flattered that he thought I was able to find a few guys to lead down the garden path (and simultaneously at that).
The patrons of the Beagle were really into the Leafs game, which was kind of odd. More odd was that a group of them would scream at seemingly random intervals when nothing of any import was occurring in the game. I think at one point they went ballistic when a Tim Horton’s commercial came on. Frickin’ Leaf fans.
We also discovered something strange: he cannot receive my texts. I figured as much, since he is usually good at texting me back no matter how inane or ridiculous my messages to him are. I sat across from him, sent him a text and he did not receive it. I said, “so you never received the message I sent that read “I’m outside your apartment vandalizing your truck, you union bastard”?” to which he replied no. I said, “What about the one I sent about meeting Elle MacPherson on the set of a bikini shoot and she was really hoping to meet a Swiss ex-pat that was about a foot shorter than her?”. No to that as well. Oh well. Perhaps from now on I will text marriage proposals to him, since he won’t receive them. It’s a win win situation when you’re making bonehead decisions at 1am on a Saturday night.
We then attempted to answer the age old question: would you rather have sex with a midget or an amputee? I had to back away from midget sex and I think C was on board with me on that front. He did seem rather keen to have amputee sex though, so I may have hit on a fetish. We discussed the variables such as: if it was Brad Pitt minus an arm, sure. If it was a rather unattractive person missing a couple of fingers, no. There’s really a lot to factor in when making such a decision it would seem. Oh, and it was C that said he would do a one armed Brad. I don’t think Brad is very hot.
The subject of marriage came up, which proved very interesting. I mentioned that B was divorced and C said that he would have a hard time dating a divorcee. I was perplexed: people often get divorced, what was his problem? He said that he takes marriage very seriously and once you enter into it it should be for life. I countered that, whilst that was a noble ideal to aspire to, the divorce rate does hover at around 50% so evidently it is not the most successful of institutions. It was an interesting conversation and I was rather surprised by his views. I don’t agree that being divorced is necessarily bad – it depends on how one ends up there. Look at Britney Spears with her 48 hour marriage. I suppose C’s argument is that you should only get married when you are good and ready and you have found “the one”. I agree with that. And, as a believer in marriage, I think guys that believe in a lifelong commitment are hot. So are guys with bus passes. And some amputees.
Then we talked about crashing my cousin’s wedding. I believe I mentioned it in an earlier blog – this is the wedding I was sort of impolitely encouraged to attend alone, since I’m a single loser and they’re trying to pare down the guest list. C suggested that he and his friend crash it. This morning, in the light of day, it still seems like a good idea. At least I would have fun. Hang out with a couple of hot guys. I’m sure we could coerce my nana into doing some shooters with us.
All of a sudden four hours had passed. How does that happen so quickly? Oh right, lots of beer. C seemed rather adamant that I take a cab home as he didn’t like the idea of me waiting for the #16 which, at this point, was probably running once every half hour. I said that no, it would cost too much money. C disagreed, since I was only going from Broadway to 41st. We tried to discern how many blocks that would be and were incapable of doing the math (the answer is 32!). We were able to agree that it was a plausible bike ride, though decided against me borrowing his bike. So I called for a cab and, because I had done so, a bus came almost immediately. I love the way that works. I thanked him for waiting with me at the bus stop to which he said that it was the gentlemanly thing to do. I pointed out that, more often than not, he does not wait with me at the bus stop, to which he replied that he likely would not wait with me the next time. Um, okay. Then I realized that I only had $1.75 in my pocket, so I was $0.50 short. I could have alleviated this situation by retrieving my purse from my knapsack, but that seemed very tiring and time consuming and C encouraged me to try and barter with the bus driver. Which I did, and he was kind enough to let me on.
And thus I returned home. Didn’t text anyone. Didn’t sleep with any midgets. Nor did I propose marriage at any point. Yep. I’m getting back on track.
The patrons of the Beagle were really into the Leafs game, which was kind of odd. More odd was that a group of them would scream at seemingly random intervals when nothing of any import was occurring in the game. I think at one point they went ballistic when a Tim Horton’s commercial came on. Frickin’ Leaf fans.
We also discovered something strange: he cannot receive my texts. I figured as much, since he is usually good at texting me back no matter how inane or ridiculous my messages to him are. I sat across from him, sent him a text and he did not receive it. I said, “so you never received the message I sent that read “I’m outside your apartment vandalizing your truck, you union bastard”?” to which he replied no. I said, “What about the one I sent about meeting Elle MacPherson on the set of a bikini shoot and she was really hoping to meet a Swiss ex-pat that was about a foot shorter than her?”. No to that as well. Oh well. Perhaps from now on I will text marriage proposals to him, since he won’t receive them. It’s a win win situation when you’re making bonehead decisions at 1am on a Saturday night.
We then attempted to answer the age old question: would you rather have sex with a midget or an amputee? I had to back away from midget sex and I think C was on board with me on that front. He did seem rather keen to have amputee sex though, so I may have hit on a fetish. We discussed the variables such as: if it was Brad Pitt minus an arm, sure. If it was a rather unattractive person missing a couple of fingers, no. There’s really a lot to factor in when making such a decision it would seem. Oh, and it was C that said he would do a one armed Brad. I don’t think Brad is very hot.
The subject of marriage came up, which proved very interesting. I mentioned that B was divorced and C said that he would have a hard time dating a divorcee. I was perplexed: people often get divorced, what was his problem? He said that he takes marriage very seriously and once you enter into it it should be for life. I countered that, whilst that was a noble ideal to aspire to, the divorce rate does hover at around 50% so evidently it is not the most successful of institutions. It was an interesting conversation and I was rather surprised by his views. I don’t agree that being divorced is necessarily bad – it depends on how one ends up there. Look at Britney Spears with her 48 hour marriage. I suppose C’s argument is that you should only get married when you are good and ready and you have found “the one”. I agree with that. And, as a believer in marriage, I think guys that believe in a lifelong commitment are hot. So are guys with bus passes. And some amputees.
Then we talked about crashing my cousin’s wedding. I believe I mentioned it in an earlier blog – this is the wedding I was sort of impolitely encouraged to attend alone, since I’m a single loser and they’re trying to pare down the guest list. C suggested that he and his friend crash it. This morning, in the light of day, it still seems like a good idea. At least I would have fun. Hang out with a couple of hot guys. I’m sure we could coerce my nana into doing some shooters with us.
All of a sudden four hours had passed. How does that happen so quickly? Oh right, lots of beer. C seemed rather adamant that I take a cab home as he didn’t like the idea of me waiting for the #16 which, at this point, was probably running once every half hour. I said that no, it would cost too much money. C disagreed, since I was only going from Broadway to 41st. We tried to discern how many blocks that would be and were incapable of doing the math (the answer is 32!). We were able to agree that it was a plausible bike ride, though decided against me borrowing his bike. So I called for a cab and, because I had done so, a bus came almost immediately. I love the way that works. I thanked him for waiting with me at the bus stop to which he said that it was the gentlemanly thing to do. I pointed out that, more often than not, he does not wait with me at the bus stop, to which he replied that he likely would not wait with me the next time. Um, okay. Then I realized that I only had $1.75 in my pocket, so I was $0.50 short. I could have alleviated this situation by retrieving my purse from my knapsack, but that seemed very tiring and time consuming and C encouraged me to try and barter with the bus driver. Which I did, and he was kind enough to let me on.
And thus I returned home. Didn’t text anyone. Didn’t sleep with any midgets. Nor did I propose marriage at any point. Yep. I’m getting back on track.
posted by Duder at 10:41 AM
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