Missy: Part 2 & 3

Armed with a plan and determination, I entered Missy’s bar. Ok, maybe entered is the wrong way to put it. I stumbled into Missy’s bar. She noticed us immediately and began to pour our drinks. She even cleared out a small section for us that she had clearly been obstructing for us. That’s love. The story can pretty much stop here because that in itself, is an accomplishment. But you guys want to hear the salacious details, so lets go on.

As soon as I get to the bar I place my car keys on the bar top. I give her a look and Jay chimes in with “He is Da-runk!” She takes my keys. First part of the mission, complete.

So now missy has my drinks, and she is continuously keeping our beer glasses full. For some reason this was a beer night for me, oh right, because she wasn’t taking our orders. I was just drinking what she put in front of me.

She had an agenda to get me wasted and I had an agenda to be wasted, this was a perfect pairing. Now I have been told before that drinking in excess can lead to disastrous results at the end of the night, but I know what my disaster limit is. If I keep it just below the disaster limit I become endowed with super libido. I become This Guy V 2.0 – the porn mod. So I was making sure I kept within the threshold. The night was going well.

“So how exactly am I getting home again? You have my keys.”

“You are going to take a cab.”

“Oh hell no, there is no way I’m leaving my car with a stranger.”

“Oh I’m a stranger now?”

“No, that’s why you’re going to give me a ride home.”

“I am…” she said meditatively. “ok.”

The confused look on her face was priceless, I wasn’t sure she knew what happened, in fact, I wasn’t sure I knew what happened. All I could think was “Damn, that’s how the Jedi’s do it.”

So the second part of the mission was accomplished. I had given her my keys, she had agreed to give me a ride home, and now all we have left is getting home and doing something constructive with it.

While Missy was workin the bar Jay and I talked strategy. We were trying to figure out what to do once she got to my house and what do we do about her pesky boyfriend, because I still was not feelin the whole “home wrecker” title. I would never want that done to me, how could I ever do that to someone else. It would take Jay some convincing to make me see past the golden rule, but he succeeded… at least temporarily.

“So it…ah… looks like you’re… um… going to get some… uh… ass!” Jay said with his voice ascending in pitch.

“Nah man, not necessarily. She’s just giving me a ride home. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to parlay it into anything. She could just be a responsible bartender that doesn’t want to see her patrons dead. You know?”

“Listen…she is giving you a ride home. She doesn’t have to do that. She knows what she is getting into. “

“Look, all I’m saying is that I don’t want to assume anything.”

“I don’t like the way your thinking right now.”

“What do you want me to say, she has a man dude. This is uncharted territory for me.”

“Ok, Guy? Yah, um… cancel that shit. I don’t like the way you’re thinking at all. Your gonna go home and your gonna do it. Now shut the fuck up and drink. BITCH.”

I did. I drank. And I drank and I drank and I drank. And you know what? By the last drink everything Jay had ever told me in my life made sense. Fuck the golden rule. If she wants to mess with me, then it is incumbent upon me to let her. Right? (That’s what Jay says.)

So lets skip ahead a few hours to the end of the night. Bailey had come by the bar and met up with us, we all drank, and they all decided to go home. I was left alone with Missy. I was indeed pretty drunk by this point and I was rather happy that Missy was going to be driving me home. I tried to retain everything Bailey and Jay had told me to say and do, but by this point, the alcohol had overruled my memory and I was left on my own.

Missy finishes counting out her drawer, she tipped out the bus boys, grabbed me by the arm and we left. As we were leaving I noticed her acting very shifty. When we stepped out of the front door she looked around to see if anyone was watching. I found it strange as that part of town was absolutely still.

“I can’t believe I’m giving you a ride home right now.”

“Well you are a good bartender.”

“Yeah but this is crazy, I’m driving all the way to the other side of town and I’m going to have to take the train or a cab home.”

“You’re not crazy, you’re a good person.”

Funny thing is that it really was taking me every ounce of mental power I had and that’s the best I could do. I was struggling hard to come up with the right thing to say.

We get into my car, buckle up, and turn it on. As we’re sitting there waiting for the car to warm up, we somehow get on the topic of her boyfriend.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this, if Derek finds out he is going to go crazy.”

“What’s his nationality again?”

“Puerto Rican and Sicillian.”

“Great, so I’m going to get killed tonight. Get out of my car. I’m driving myself home.”

“Look, if you drive yourself, you’re definitely going to die. If I drive you, it’s only like a 50% chance.”

That wasn’t comforting to me at all. She is a funny, sarcastic bitch, but still. Not funny at the time.

“What is the deal with your man. He’s so possessive, you don’t sound happy at all with him.”

“Well, you know the first 3 months were cool, he used to let me hang with my guy friends and now he is this real jealous monster.”

“Monster huh? Is anyone following us, cause I don’t need him to know where I live.”

“He’s not following us, he’s working tonight, relax.”

But if he was... working why... would she be all shifty...?

As I was giving her directions I gave her the most round about way to get to my house. So many turns that there was no way she would remember how she got there. I figured it’s better to play it safe. Even though I could destroy this kid in a street fight, I can’t fuck with hatred. Hate will give this guy endurance and even if I kicked his ass that night, I would probably find my car keyed up, broken into, or tires flattened. And if he knew where I lived, well I could just forget about all my earthly possessions. Not to mention walking down dark streets by myself would probably become hazardous to my health. So I stick with the non confrontational policy. We finally get to my house and I invite her up to see the place. She was about as reluctant to go up as a scuba diver with no air.

I had managed to sober up a little by the time we got to my place and I was happy to see that Kofa left the place looking nice. I brought her in, showed her around, and plopped down on my living room couches. She took the smaller couch I took the bigger one. I wasn’t so much interested at this point in getting some ass as I was in trying to understand why she was with this moron of a boyfriend. I found myself becoming the good old guy I used to be. Inquisitive and genuinely interested in what you had to say. We talked until the sun came up about everything and anything and would constantly dart in and out of the topic of her man. She was making me laugh with her zingers, I was making her laugh with my wit. I was being me.

There was no smooth talking or lines or moves, it was just me talking with this cool chick. The curiosity did get the best of me at one point and so I asked her about her man again.

“Ok, all you have said about your boyfriend is negative. You have not said one good thing about him. I can not believe that you would willingly be with someone that sucked as much as you describe him to suck. So what do you like about him?”

“I guess, I don’t know. It’s just convenient. You know I’ve been with him for the last 5 months, I just kinda got used to him.”

“Boo! Bad answer.”

“Well when it was fresh it was really nice, he was a cool guy, now he’s a mess.”

“That’s what you get when you date kids.”

“Oh so what are you saying? That I should get with a big mature man like you? A big tough boozer that can’t hold his liquor?”

“You’re cutting deep sweet heart. I’m no boozer.”

“Yeah that’s why this is the second time I take your keys from you, right?”

I couldn’t really tell her that that was my move, so I had to concede the point.

“Ok, fine, so I like to drink a little. But as you can see, I’m a pretty responsible guy..”

“Yeah, I’m impressed with your place, but it needs a woman’s touch.”

Look people. My apartment has a woman’s touch. Angelika’s sweet sweet touch. Her art, her plants, her essence is still in that apartment. There is no way some chick is going to walk into my place and tell me to give it a woman’s touch. Sore subject… I’m sorry.

Anyhow, I didn’t let that get to me and I finally reached critical mass. My eyes were closing. I knew at this point that I missed the opportunity. I could not stay awake. I chose to talk with her and get to know her over putting the moves on her and getting some ass. Typical of this guy.

“So missy, check it, you got 3 choices. Real simple. You can 1.) Sleep on this couch. It’s comfy. 2.) sleep in my bed with me “platonically”, it’s big and don’t worry I wont even come close to you. Or 3.) take a cab. I’ll call it, it will be here in 10 minutes, you’ll be home in 20. Your call.”

“Fine, I’ll stay, but it’s totally platonically.”

I knew the drill quite well. See, I have no problems getting women to sleep on my bed, scantily clad, right next to me, that seems to be my strong point, what I can’t do is get them to actually sleep with me. So I was prepared for a bootyless night. I offered her some sweat pants, but she declined, she preferred to be sleeping fully clothed. I at this point didn’t much care and I jumped into my hospital scrubs and went to bed.

We talked a little longer in bed, spooned a little, and knocked out. We slept all night, barely crept into each others space and woke up the day completely guilt free. We got dressed up, I took her to breakfast and afterwards put her on the train.

It was weird.

I mean the whole frickin thing. She has a man, she takes me home, we talk all night, she sleeps in the same bed as me, nothing happens, we wake up, get breakfast, and go on our ways. Its fuckin weird. I haven’t known her for very long at all in there she was. It was a bizarre byproduct of the influence of the steering committee and being myself. The steering committee gets her in my bed, and I talk her to sleep. I knew at this point that I needed to re-work my strategy. I would try again…. Only this time I do it right…

I could end this blog entry right now, but that would be wrong. I promised you salacious details and gods revenge, so lets get into it. Part 3 of this story begins now.


I decided her having a man was too much for me. I didn’t like the idea at all. I didn’t like the role I would be playing, I just didn’t like it. Bad Karma I guess.

Karma. Karma is a funny thing. You see, unbeknownst to me, karma was playing out a little karmic game the very night that missy stayed over platonically. See something strange happened that night. Nothing!!! She happened to run into the one mofo (some would say gay mofo) that took her home but didn’t sleep with her. That very same night, her man Derek was running up some karmic debt. Turns out that he met up with his ex girlfriend and tried to take her back to a hotel room. How did Missy find out? The next day she went to the club where Derek Dj’s and ran into the very girl he tried to take to the hotel. The rest is history.

Derek found himself without a girlfriend because Missy finally found a reason to end it with him. Suddenly she was free of relationship restraints and suddenly I found myself feeling more able to sleep with her.

Derek didn’t take the news easily at all. In fact he freaked out. He went insane. He started following her home, threatening to kill himself, texting her incessantly, and calling from pay phones. He would leave voicemails crying his eyes out and say the most awful things. This guy lost it. The poor kid was not able to regain his composure because he was caught red handed and probably lost the coolest chick he ever dated. 22 years old and plenty more mistakes to go, I kinda felt bad for the kid but I've been there done that, so I know that in the end he’ll be fine. I’m not too worried about it.

It is now Monday night, the night before our big platonic date. Jay and I were out boozing in midtown with some of his friends at an engagement party and guess who sends me a text message? That’s right Missy.

Missy Text: Derek is crazy. needed 2 get out of the house. At a bar in midtown, where r u?

This guy Text: Get the fuck out! I am in midtown as well. I am at 49th and Park.

Missy Text: I am at 44th and 5th. Come through.

Not a bad idea. Was already buzzing hard from the engagement party and somehow the thought of two people getting engaged that weren't Angelika and I, was making me feel ill, so it was off to meet up with Missy.

I grab Jay and make my way over to the bar. It was this cool little sports bar right there in midtown and Missy knew the bartender. We were getting hooked up. We drank and laughed and drank and laughed. It was kinda weird seeing Missy in hang out mode. Usually she is working and running around, now she was hanging out and being cool.

In our drunken stupor, none of us had made any moves. We were just drinking and laughing. Missy eventually turns to me and tries to get to the bottom of me…

Missy: “So what’s up? Why are you acting like such a queer?”

Jay: “Acting?”

This guy: “What do you mean?”

Jay: “Yeah, what do you mean, he’s not fucken acting, he’s a fucken mo!”

Mo = short for homo. Jay was good and drunk.

Missy: “I swear you’re half a queer, you don’t make any moves.”

I didn’t even bother to reply. I knew what I had to do. I leaned in and gave her a kiss. A nice, long, wet, drunken kiss. She had big juicy lips. It was hot. I knew tonight was going to be bigger than before and now we didn’t have her man as an obstacle.

As drunk as we were, it was time to call in Kofa. He was hanging out uptown and was just a short ride away. I knew he would take us home. I was way too drunk to drive. I gave him a call and he was at the bar within minutes.

Soon it was time to go home. We took a cab over to where I parked my car. I told Missy to wait out on the curb with Jay and Kofa while I went to grab the car from the garage. As I drove the car out I noticed Missy sleeping on the sidewalk and Jay and Kofa talking to a police officer that had pulled up in his cruiser. The officer wasn’t wholly convinced that she was with us and insisted on waking her up to find out.

Officer: “Mam, are these guys with you?”

Missy: “Yessssss…”

I’m happy to know that New York’s finest are out patrolling our streets looking for shady sumsabitches like Jay (who was wearing a suit) and Kofa. Either way, Missy and I jump in the back seat, Kofa gets behind the wheel and we all head home.

Missy falls asleep the second she gets into the car. She was resting her head on my shoulder. It felt a little weird for me because it was a very boyfriendish posture. I tried not to think too much about it as I didn’t want to fall into a mini depression rut. I was going to get booty that night.

We finally make it to my house. Missy and I head straight to the bedroom.

Warning: This is what we’ve all been waiting for. This is what we have been working towards since my break up. The following is intended for mature audiences. If you are my mother, under 13, or easily grossed out, read no more. I am sparing no detail for the integrity of the blog.

Ok folks so here we are. I’m in bed with Missy. I am in my Pajama’s, Missy is in her undies and a T-Shirt, and we are facing each other. Just before I lean in to kiss her, I look up in the direction of the sky, and thanked god for letting me win this one. For once god said, “Guy, you have worked your ass off, you get to win this one.” A “thanks” was in order. At least thats what I thought. I thought God was letting me win this one for good behavior, nope. Sneaky bastard. God likes to teach me lessons in shitty ways. That's why we don't get along as well as we should, but that's neither here nor there.

I leaned in and began to make out with Missy. We started kissing hot and heavy. It was getting pretty intense when all of a sudden, she stops me.

“Wait. I need to stop before we get crazy.”

She was visibly turned on. I could tell she was working hard to stop herself so I decided not to press it.

“Alright, well then good night.”

I turned over and waited. I knew the night wasn’t over.

“You really are queer.” She said with a laugh.

“Why?”

“Because most guys would be trying to molest me right now.”

“Listen, I don’t know what kinda guys you hang out with, but that’s not my style. You stopped it. I’m not gonna fight for it, if we do it we do it, if not, no biggie, I work tomorrow anyhow, I’d rather sleep if I’m not getting any.”

She turns me over and begins to kiss me hard. I knew it wasn’t over and now I knew I was getting some. She knew what she was getting into and went for it. It was my duty to fulfill my end of the bargain.

We were making out hot and heavy and the night was flowing. I turned her over on her back and started kissing her neck.

Note to every guy out there: That is every girls spot.

My hands slid down over top of her panties and suddenly there I was. I kept having these weird little “Wow here I am” moments. My heart was racing and it was incredibly exciting to be charting new territory. It was surreal.

Soon my hands were under the panties and doing some more exploratory work. Things were going quite well. The flow was perfect. She takes the initiative to remove her panties and I start wondering how the hell I’m going to pull off the condom thing. When do I reach for it? When do put it on? All these questions were now flooding my mind. I needed to buy some time while I figured out how I was going to pull it off. I opted for hand stimulation while kissing her. I figured that would keep her happy enough while I formulated a plan. I finally just decided to reach for it and just then…

“Wait wait wait wait…” she said stopping me. “You know all your friends say you’re this real ethical guy, this real nice guy, is this going to be bad for you? Like are you going to feel guilty in the morning?”

“What are you talking about? Why would I feel guilty?”

“Well you’re this nice guy, you know? I don’t know, I just don’t want you to regret this in the morning.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m not a woman. I’m fine. I think I’ll be ok.”

“Alright, well I just wanted to make sure.”

By this point the mood was totally killed. I was no longer able to perform my duties. I tried kissing her and working it back up, but it simply was not working, I was thinking about it way too much. The pressure was too much. I finally lay beside her and told her to forget it. I gave up.

“Look I’m sorry, the mood is shot, let’s just cut our losses.”

“Wait, there’s got to be something I can do.”

“Well there is one thing…”

She knew what to do. She took a trip down south and started working it. Before I knew it I was back in business and she was definitely doing a good job.

Another "Wow here I am" moment.

Here is the part where I start realizing that this night was going to be a battle of the titans. Me Vs. God. God was winning 1-0 with his first attempt at stoppage. Luckily Missy and I worked as a team to get past that stoppage and we were back in business.

God 1; This guy 1 – We tied it up.

I reach for the condom, and tear it open, it was quite dark in my room, so I was depending on my sense of touch to figure this thing out. I couldn’t be that hard, just peel it open, put it on, and roll it down…

I tried, believe me I tried. The effing thing would not unroll all the way. For one second I wanted to entertain the idea that my wanker was just too big and girthy for a normal sized condom, but deep down inside I knew that wasn’t the case. I wrestled with this thing for like 2 mintues and I was just not able to do it. It would not unroll anymore. The mood, once again KILLED!

God 2; This guy 1.

“Sorry Missy, I don’t know what to say. I can’t get this effing thing on. It’s one that Kofa gave me. Lets just fricking forget it.”

“No, no, no. There has to be something we can do.”

She was determined to get ass that night. Fresh off a break up and free, this girl was going to get some at any cost. Well being a self-confessed condom retard, I recalled a conversation I had with Kofa not more than a few days earlier. I was asking him about condom etiquette and he explained to me the basics, but he did mention one move that he dubbed… “The Move.”

Kofa: “The Move is if you can get her to put it on with her mouth. That’s hot.”

This guy: “Really?”

Kofa: “Oh yeah, that’s the move. Then you know it’s gonna be a crazy night.”

This guy: “Aces! Thanks for that.”

So when I was laying there in bed trying to figure out how to recover this night, I brought up “The Move.”

“You know the move, is if you can put it on with your mouth.”

Yes, I did say that.

“What? How? How do you do that?”

“I don’t fucken know, rent a movie. I’ve never done it before…”

“Alright, well let’s try.”

She grabs another condom, goes downtown, and starts workin it. Soon I’m up and ready to go and she proceeds to try this bizarre experiment. She unwraps the condom, puts it in her mouth and goes to work.

Like a champ! She succeeded. Wow, there i was.

God 2; This guy 3 – (1 pt. – Salvaging the night; 1pt. – Conquering “The Move”)

Realizing that I was operating at very short life spans, she immediately straddled me and there we were. I had another one of those moments. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing it with another chick besides my sweet sweet Angelika. It was going well.

As she’s riding me, my eyes begin to adjust to the small amount of light coming in through the window. I start noticing things that aren’t to my liking. Like for example, her belly, while it was flat, it was also very pillowy. It looked loose. That was not very appealing to me. I knew she lost some weight, but just how much?

I put my hands on her ass. Again, not the best feeling. Have you ever seen the commercial for the Tempur-pedic mattress? How the hand kinda just sinks into the mattress memory foam? Yah, that’s how it felt to me. Very squishy and loose, not to mention that it had huge wiggle factor. I could literally grab the skin and move it about 3 inches in any direction. I was thoroughly grossed out. God decided that the battleground was in the mind and that’s how he was going to win this.

God 3; This guy 3

I was completely disgusted, I decided I had to just finish this up as soon as I could. If I could finish this, the night would be successful. So I flipped her into one of my favorite positions. She was on her back, her legs up on my chest. This my friends, is where the story becomes really horrible and nasty, please don’t read if you get easily disgusted.

As we continued an odor filled the air. It was not pleasant at all and unlike anything I have ever smelled before. I was horrified. I could no longer lie to myself and pretend to be into this act. I later found out talking to my secretary friends at work that those odors typically mean that there is some kind of infection going on down there. I cant tell you enough how absolutely horrified i was. I felt betrayed by humanity. There was nothing the secretary's could say after that that would make me think it was "nothing to worry about." I've been examining my business daily to track changes. So far so good. I think I'm alright.

God 4; This guy 3

I decided to lay her back down into the missionary position where there were no oders before and just fake it. That’s right, I was about to fake an orgasm. I quickened my pace, I increased my breathing, I was giving all the “about to go” signes. But not to be completely robotic, I decided to kiss her neck and in doing so I cradled her head with my hands. I did not realize that my hands and nose would be so close to each other and you can guess what happened next. The odor returned. For Christ's sake it was on my hands. It was on my frickin hands. GASP! My world was collapsing right before my eyes. I always used to joke that I wanted to die having sex, but my image was a lot more exciting and romantic than this. This was worse than the time I lost my virginity.

God 5; This guy 3 – God was in my head big time.

I turned my head and looked at the clock. I gave myself exactly one more minute. I was waiting for the clock to change time… Quick breaths, quick pace… building it up… when all of a sudden…

“Wait wait wait. How much more time do you have?”

“What do you mean, I don’t have to go to work until 7.”

“No, like how much more time before you go?”

“Oh, before I go, I was just about to until you said something.”

“Well can we get in the doggy position?”

Honestly, who asks that? Just do it, don’t ask. I couldn’t believe I had gotten another stoppage and an extension, it was as if god said “You wanted this, your gonna get some of this… its not over yet sonny boy!!!”

God 7 (1pt. for stoppage; 1pt. for extension); This guy 3

I flip her over, and give her exactly one more minute. My eyes were glued to the clock. As soon as the minute hand turned I was going to pull out. Now there are odors again and this is just a disaster.

The minute changed. I pulled out. Quickly laid on my stomach.

“Oh man, I’m tired” I said in my best out of breath voice.

“Yah me too.”

Gasping for air I give my best porn ending.

“Shit... fuck... phew... man...huh...It’s hot in here, let me go get some water.”

I got up, got some water and drank it all. I started to feel the guilt. It was pretty bad. I traded the last excellent sexual encounter with my darling Angelika for this awful experience. God wooped me good. Did you see the score? 7 to 3 man. I’ve never been wooped that bad by God, but you know what, I suppose it was worth it. He taught me a huge lesson. I needed to learn patience.

That’s really what it all comes down to. I am very impatient. When I play paint ball I am always the jackass that gets killed running through the middle of the course Rambo style because I get impatient sitting in a bunker. These break ups suck for me because I get impatient waiting for the next one. When I meet a chick I hang out with her a lot in a short amount of time because I am too impatient to let the relationship mature. All my life I have been this way and I need to change. I knew this.

I decided to make some changes in my life. I will start going to the gym again to become physically fit. I will take capoeira classes to become mentally fit. I will center myself and learn to be patient. I think that’s key. I think that is what will lead me to the next one. The One.

So the next morning I take Missy to breakfast and then drop her off at the train. As I am making my way into work I receive a text message from her.

Missy Text: R U Cool?

This guy Text: Yes. Why?

Missy Text: Just wanted to make sure. Derek left me 15 messages last night.

This guy Text: You need to handle your business. You need to take the time to work this mess out. Until then lets just be cool.

Missy Text: I agree, I do need to figure this out. I don’t want you to feel like a rebound. I hope you don’t feel weird.

This guy: Believe me I don’t. I’m ok. Don’t worry we will still continue to rock out at your bar and bug you for free drinks.

Missy Text: Cool.

With that it was over. The easiest ending in my life. I didn’t see her for a little while but we kept in touch via text. The first time I saw her at her bar after that was a little weird, but we drank and got passed it. I also found out the amount of weight she lost... you ready for this? 80lb's. She dropped a 6 year old boy in weight. No wonder things were a lot less tight.

Huge note to self: No more former fat chicks. Nothing wrong with them, just not for me.

She is still my favorite bartender in town, and every now and then she will get drunk and text me, but we keep it at that.

Shortly after the Missy incident I headed over to Orlando for Thanksgiving. I had a friend down there who used to be an exotic dancer. She was a lesbian… except for when it came to me. I knew her for 5 years, but I never knew the girl I was going to meet during that thanksgiving break.

Stay tuned as we make our way over to Orlando and I introduce you to my past life. My Dj friends, my old haunts, and one very special former exotic dancer, Miss Ashlyn. We are almost caught up to real time. Soon I will be reporting it as it happens.

Missy: Part 1 of 3

Girls are crafty. They have this way of manipulating a situation so that they look like angels. They keep all these back doors available just in case they have to bail out of an awkward situation. Missy is no exception.

As far as I knew, the next time I would get to see Missy was going to be Tuesday for our date in which I was supposed to have some kind of surprise planned. Missy had designs for me though, and this is how she played her hand.

Armed with my business card, she decided to send me an email. The following are excerpts from the actual email thread:

Missy:
Hey Guy
Just wanted to see if the phony email on your phony business card works.

Uh huh. This girl wants to go out for platonic drinks, with a bar patron, and she has a boyfriend. The kind of girl you want to bring home to momma.

This guy:
Hey Missy. Well I hope you didn't get into any kind of trouble that night. Your boy seems pretty territorial. I walked past him and he was looking at me pretty hard. Well because I'm such a nice guy, and because I don't want to give you any undue stress, I give you the option to opt out of our "platonic" meeting for drinks. Even though I fulfilled my end of the bargain, and proved beyond the shadow of a doubt (see business card) I can see that a get out of jail free card might be necessary here. If you do think you can swing it, then Tuesday it is and we'll have drinks (platonically). If all else fails… we'll see ya at the bar.

Missy:
I know he's a little territorial, but that’s cuz he knows he's got somethin good here and he doesn’t want me leaving him. He doesn’t even want me talking to any guys. He hates that I’m a bartender. I told him he just has to deal with it. We bump heads a lot because I don’t listen to a word he says and I think he is used to other girls doing whatever he says. Anyway, he was mad that night cuz he said - who’s that guy lookin at me? He said you were laughing at him and disrespecting him.

Ok? So she’s still acknowledging her dude, there is no room for false assumptions and she can always pull the “I told you I had a man” card. There’s a backdoor. Her man clearly complains about how I was laughing at him and disrespecting him, referring to the time I said I had that “nigga” beat, yet she disregards his feelings and continues…

So I guess I can still meet up with you. Since you held up your part of the deal and since it is only friendly drinks. What are you doing tonight? I’m going to my boyfriends house for dinner but I should be home kinda early. I work tonight. I don’t know how late you stay out, but you should come by if you can..

Grimy. That’s some scandalous shit, but Jay assures me I shouldn’t care. It’s not really my problem, right? I mean I do feel guilty, I don’t like being the dirty little secret or the other man, but whatever, doing all this made Angelika an afterthought. It was therapeutic.

This guy:
Yikes, sounds like a hand full. Jealousy is an ugly trait. It's based in distrust and to date I haven't been able to figure out how to make a relationship work without trust. But that’s just me, it works well for others.

There I go again. I thought I had no game and here I am selling myself like a car salesman. “Have you seen the new 2005 model of ‘this guy?’ It’s guaranteed not to violate trust for 100,000 miles or 10 years, whichever comes first.”

Sorry for getting him mad, I didn’t think I was looking and disrespecting, in fact I barely remember what he looked like because I glanced over at him for like .00000462 seconds, the rest of the time I was showing Bailey magic tricks. Anyhow, I’ll be around tonight. Don't get your boy pissed, I come in peace.

My little brother Julian always told me to be sarcastic. It makes them laugh, it lightens the mood, and it makes you a sarcastic asshole, which in its own way is a back door. I can’t believe I was sinking to this level and playing her game.

Missy:
Yeah jealousy is very ugly. One of the things I hate most about men. See to you later!!!

That was a very busy night for me, I had all kinds of prior engagements but I told myself I would stop buy Missy’s bar at the end of the night. I wrapped up what I had to do, called Bailey, and asked him to meet me at Missy’s bar. Bailey thought my approach was too much too soon but knowing that I wouldn’t budge on visiting missy, he made a suggestion to only come in for an hour, have a couple of beers, and leave. Not a bad idea at all.

See one thing I have learned is that sometimes less is more. I am the kind of person that likes to indulge NOW. I can be very impatient. If it was up to me my life would be fast forwarded to the point that I do meet the right one, end this blog, run the big reveal where you get to see what me, the right girl, and my close friends actually look like, what our names actually are, and I get to live happily ever after. But no, it doesn’t work that way. You have to live through every effing version of a time cliché before that happens. I have to “give it time” because “time heals all wounds” and “in due time” the right one will come into my life. Time time time time time. Blah.

So Bailey and I visit Missy’s bar, we flirt, we drink, and we leave one hour later. Exactly according to plan.

The next day I go to work and can you guess what I have in my email inbox? That’s right, an email from missy.

Missy:
So what’s with the tease last night? How you gonna come in for 5 minutes. I was crying all night when you left.

It worked. I know I make Bailey out to be a moron sometimes, but he really is one of the smartest people I know. He is, after all, the Ivy Leaguer of the bunch.

So are you excited about Tuesday? I don’t think I’ve ever had platonic drinks with anyone. You better have a good plan. The more fun I’m having, the longer I can convince myself to stay so the pressure is on! How’s work? Made any sales today? I bet you’re the best telemarketer they have.

Two things happening here. First she is trying to get a read on my motives. My motives are simple, hang out with her, see how it flows, either she digs me or she doesn’t. I don’t have this persuasive smooth talking power that some do. Secondly, I assure you I am no telemarketer. This is her attempt at sarcasm. Looks like we are playing each others games now.

This guy:
I'm sorry to be such a tease. Next time you cry, save the tears in a jar for me, I know this great recipe that calls for "hottie tears." I'll let you try it some time.

How gay was that? Hottie tears? Seriously did I say that? Since when do I use lines like that? Never. Except for this time. Sorry to put you through it but I had to keep it in to maintain the integrity of this blog.

Am I excited about Tuesday? Sure, I get to take your platonic drinks virginity. It’s every little boys dream to take a girl out for drinks platonically. I got a plan, don't worry… (I got like 5 days). Not feelin the pressure of convincing you to stay, I got bill Clinton charisma, as long as you know how to banter, we're good. Plus, with all the fun filled activities I will have planned, I can always bust out the play-doh and keep you captivated for hours.

Telemarketer, huh smart ass?

Hey, I want to redeem some Amex Gold Card points, can your boy help me out? I think his number is on the back of my card, who do I ask for?

Yes, that was a blatant attack on her man. I had to resort to it to maintain my dignity. She called me a telemarketer, I had to remind her she had a lame-o boyfriend.

Missy:
Hahahaha ask for Derek. he should be able to help you. And I'm the smart ass?? What is Bill Clinton charisma?? Haha. Good thing you got play-doh. I love that stuff. So any chance you have to gonna be by the bar tonight?

By this time it’s pretty much an unspoken truth that something, boyfriend or not, is going to come of this. I mean she is clearly flirting, she is receptive to all my lame ass comments, and she keeps wanting to see me before this platonic date.

This guy:
What time you workin till? This is what I got tonight… I got happy hour with the homies from 6-7, I got dinner with a vendor (not some rich lady that pays me for sex) at 7:30 till probably 9:30ish, then if I'm not loaded by then, I got an opening.

Missy:
When is dinner with the rich lady that pays you for sex again?? How much does she pay anyway? I will be there till sometime between 2 and 4 depending on how busy it is. So try not to get too loaded with the homies and maybe I will see you later. If not I will just have to text you incessantly until you come.

Like I said in the emails above that night was action packed. Before I continue, let me take the time to introduce one new person to this whole mess as you will hear more about her in upcoming posts. Her name is Chip. That was not a typo, I did say “her” and I did say “Chip.” Let me explain, Chip is Jay’s college buddy from back in the day. We became acquainted through Jay and eventually became a tight little co-ed group. Our typical gatherings consisted of Chip bitching about her man, or Chip and I making fun of Jay when he was trying to run college game on unsuspecting young ladies. Jay at some point had a thing for Chip, Chip had a thing for shitty boyfriends, and I had a thing for the juicy gossip that came of it all. The relationship was symbiotic and parasitic all at once. So that’s the back story, now on to how she got the nick name Chip.

Chip is a bit of a tard. She’s a hottie but a little clumsy and isn’t short of being quirky. Well one night while out with Jay and fellow college friends, Chip, in her sober mind, decided to take a piggy back ride atop a drunken pig, or in this case her deliriously drunk friend. Sounded like a brilliant idea, I’m sure, but as he began to walk, the drunk dude started wobbling (imagine that) and lost his balance. Chip along with friend, came tumbling down where luckily her face broke her fall. Thank god for teeth, because without them she probably would have slammed gum first into the concrete. The 2 front teeth connected first, shattered, and softened the blow for the rest of her face. I wasn’t there to personally witness this, but when I found out, then when I saw her, the name Chip was born. She has been called, and introduced as Chip ever since. She don’t like it too much but, sometimes we just have to play the cards we’re dealt.

So that night, Jay, Chip, Morgan (acquaintance of mine and friend of chip), Kofa, and I started happy hour at that same midtown bar that we met Paige and Hannah at. The reason we decided to convene there was because One: we needed a happy hour and Two: We now knew Paige who works there and well, who know’s? The closer we get to Paige, the closer we get to Hannah and whatever other friends they might have. So we were basically killing 2 birds with one stone.

I managed to wrangle Paige from her super busy schedule to talk to her a bit. She seemed relieved to not have to be working and happy to see me. We talked for a little while then I left her to her work. I guess I didn’t really want to do anything more than become cool with her. She is a cool girl, she does work at a bar, and she can hook us up. It never hurts to know people in power.

Kofa brought one of his girlie pieces. Kofa happens to have like 8 girls that he is working on at any given time. I’m not sure where on the “basketball team” of girls that this one fell on, but she was pleasant.

So we all hung out there for a little while and before we knew it, it was time to head over to the dinner with the vendor. Chip and Morgan stayed and as a little side note she managed to get the phone number of some dude who was persistent as a motherfucker. Big surprise, a girl walks into a bar walks out with number, a guy… well he has to coerce it out of her with trick like taking her picture and sending it to her phone. Anyhow I decided to take Jay along as he is a lawyer and it wasn’t very much of a stretch to have him pretend he was part of my company’s legal council.

Jay and I arrived at the dinner, got wined and dined, listened to some talk about their product, then we did the chummy thing where the sales people act like your buddies and talk to you about baseball and other trivial shit and after 3 hours we wrapped it up. I was pretty wasted by this point...so was Jay.

We leave the restaurant and make our way up to Missy’s bar. I had my very own plan this time. No help from the steering committee, it was all me. My plan was to go in there, show her exactly how drunk I was, give her my keys, and this time actually get her to give me a ride home.

I am so far out of character when I do all this, but I must admit it is a little fun. I mean I could spend my time sulking over the loss of my sweet Angelika, or I can spend my time constructively (or destructively depending on how you look at it) going out and sampling some of life’s adventures.

I recently spoke with a dear friend of mine from high school. Lola was a tall, leggy, kinda awkward athlete. She was very cool and it was only a matter of time before we ran into each other. At some point in the high school story I found myself liking her, she found herself liking me, we found ourselves liking each other. For some reason it just never worked out. Come to think of it, she is taller than me and that probably would have saved me from being curious about these tall Amazonians that I have had such catastrophic luck with thus far. I would have probably known about the added weight factor and so forth… anyhow, I digress.

For one reason or another our couplehood never came to fruition but we have remained great friends to date. So I was telling her about my dating misadventures and I was seeking some kind of resolve. Some good old fashioned rural advice. I guess I was asking the big “Why?” Why was I meeting these weirdo’s? Why does dating suck? Why can’t I find a good girl? And you know what? She gave me some solid advice. She grounded me for a second there. She knew me from high school when I was living out in the sticks and city life was a pipe dream, and she took me back to my roots…

“Well Guy, just go with your usual charm, awkard as it might be sometimes” She said with a laugh. “I think all of this is too funny, mostly because I haven't seen you at all, except that one time, since high school, so I’m picturing ‘this guy’ from high school with all of this.”

Needless to say she was thoroughly enjoying my complete stupidity and unrelenting lameness.

“I’m just this guy from highschool with his hands fuller than a mofo!” I said calmly as I took a moment to think about what she had just said.

“See that is so cute......I totally liked that guy in high school...but I too was weird and awkward.”

“Well weird and awkward has its place in the world.”

“I agree....it has worked for me all these years!!!!”

If I really think about it I was just this guy from highschool. The kid that was a little more patient and would rather wait for the right time or the right one. The kid that did like getting to know a girl before having her as a girlfriend. What I never really knew was that there was some kind of awkward charm to it. That is who I am and that’s the guy I want to introduce to “the one.”

Lola is considered “hottie” by modern day terms. She has the whole story, awkward in highschool, but went on to become a tall leggy athletic blond with a good job and a killer personality. A normal chick that once was turned on by my awkward charm, so her words were inspiring.

Well those words resonated with me as I entered Missy’s bar. I was sticking to plan, but I was going to be me at the end of the night.

Stay tuned as the rest of the story unfolds. God sided with me on this one and for once things were going according to plan. I couldn’t help but think he had something up his sleeve though. My instincts were right… he had something for me alright...