My beloved readers, hello to you all. I know it’s been a while. Please forgive me for neglecting the blog the last few weeks! Work was crazy. Then the world changed and we are in the midst of a pandemic. Let me say that my heart goes out to all those who have been affected by COVID-19. My thoughts are with you.
I have been on forced vacation during all of this. I will go back to work tanner and with much less stress. Due to the extra sleep and relaxation I’m getting currently. I hope this story of my crazy life while those of us who are non essential workers at home will take a bit of boredom out of your day. And for the essential workers which I and so many people are grateful for thank you for your dedication to keep us all safe.
I was at my new fave cocktail bar. I arrived early, my girlfriend was meeting me later. I saved the bar stool next to me with my Betsy Johnson clutch. I was feeling a little rocker like tonight. I’m chatting with my bartender. He goes to make another drink. So I’m doing my favorite pastime, people watching. This is when I realize how couple-y this bar is. I always come with friends so I’ve never noticed before. It’s happy fucking couples everywhere. Ugh.
Three drinks in, my girlfriend is a no show. I ask my bartender for another. He looks at me and says are you sure you don’t want to close out? Apparently I must have looked tipsy. I told him nope I’m waiting give me another.
Fourth drink in hand, when I turn to the door and see what I think is a familiar face. Unfortunately it’s male and not female. This male I have been avoiding.
Inner Monologue Moment: Shit. I stand out like a sore thumb in the middle of the bar. It’s too late to run to the bathroom. FUCK!
The last time he messaged me it was V day. He was looking for quick hook up. I wasn’t in the mood. And he had ghosted the year before. So I’m not in the mood for him in general.
He comes over and asks if he can sit down. I tell him I’ve saved this seat for my girlfriend. He replies, I know it’s me. I give him the you must think I’m fucking stupid look.
That’s when he says, my girlfriend’s name. And that she couldn’t meet up and she called him to take her place.
Inner Monologue Moment: What the fuck? Am I being set up here? Because if so, my date is not appropriately dressed. And there’s a good chance tomorrow that I’m going to kill my girlfriend.
He sits. After I take in the shock, then I’m overpowered by cologne and not the good kind. The four drinks aren’t helping this matter. So I announce, you must not have time to shower before you came because you reek of cologne. He then says to me, I don’t think it’s that bad. I reply, I’m pretty positive the entire bar can smell you. The couple sitting next to him is chuckling softly.
So let’s talk about his inappropriate wardrobe, A- for the upscale bar, B- for a blind date. Description: greasy hair, unshaved face (nothing against facial hair he just looks unkempt), black and grey t shirt with grey hoodie, grey sweatpants (FUCKING SWEATPANTS!), and for the finale white socks with black slides. Yes, this isn’t a joke. He’s actually wearing white socks and slides in a upscale bar.
I finish off my drink and call over my bartender because I desperately need a refill. Slides (this will be his name for the remainder of the post) orders a girly drink. Which is embarrassing to me because my bartender knows me. I run to bathroom. While in there I call my girlfriend, soon to be found in a ditch somewhere.
I ask her what the fuck is going on? She answers so happily and ask if I like her surprise. SURPRISE?!? I want to throw something and yell. But the bar is too small and pretty for me to destroy anything. So I turn the faucet in the sink, and the fucks just start rolling of my tongue. She realizes she’s made a big fucking boo boo.
She tells me Bunny can make the best of the situation. Just have fun, don’t overthink it, and go for it!
Inner Monologue Moment: If I go for it I’m gonna be in jail due assault charges at my new fave bar, I like I can’t do that!
I tell her okay, I’ll try while grinding my teeth. I put on lipstick and strut out of the bathroom.
Go big or go home!
I turn to him and say, since you ghosted me last year that means you’re picking up my drinks tonight. Thanks in advance. And since he’s a pansy, he replies with do you want food too? Hell yes. Let’s go get dinner.
We grab dinner, food was good. Surprisingly he was pleasant conversation. He’s a resident currently so his schedule is shit right now. He had just gotten off a 12 hour shift before crashing my bestie cocktail date.
I am past my limit but I still want to stay out. So I message my bar manager friend (please refer to Good Ride) to see if he’s working tonight. Thankfully he is. I tell him I’m coming but only give me mocktails. The guy I’m bringing with doesn’t need to know that. He responds I’ve got you. Gotta love your peoples.
We arrive, bar manager sends my date upstairs to the bar. He says I’ll be right up. Bar manager wants to check on me. He does, I explain what’s going on and I was very touchy feely. I head upstairs. The bar is dead. Bar manager makes my mocktail. He then makes Slides a drink. Slides makes a comment to Bar manager that I must be a great patron if my drink is already here. He says yes she’s a regular.
I tell Slides point blank, I can’t drive, I don’t want to leave my car downtown, so how about you just drive my car back to your place. And I’ll leave tomorrow. Slides AKA the pushover says ok.
We are now at his place. This is generally when good times happen. Well not tonight apparently (please refer to stiff one). I tell him I need a tshirt, blanket, pillow, and I’ll be on the sofa. He hands me a blue t-shirt and basketball shorts. Then informs this will be my t-shirt from now on.
Inner Monologue Moment: oh what have I gotten myself into? I didn’t say let’s fuck. I said goodnight I’ll be on the sofa.
Slides tells me lady’s don’t sleep on the sofa, please sleep in my bed it’s better for your back. I hop into bed. I wake up to him spooned against me. So much for his stupid ghosting ass sleeping on the sofa. I remember whenever I awoke I told him it was shark week and that he wasn’t getting any, turn over to your side of the bed.
It’s morning, he’s still asleep, this is my moment to slip out quietly. I get out of bed as gently possible but he wakes and asks where I am going? I reply, with my best excuse ever which is true, I’ve gotta let my dog out and feed him.
I put on my clothes, grab bag, about to head out. He asks if he can call me later. I say sure anything to get out of the house. I swing by for my elixir of life. I’m in line, and I keep getting strange looks. I sniff myself to make sure I don’t smell. I don’t smell anything. I look at clothes nothing is awry. I get to counter. My barista who knows me all too well gives me the what the fuck look? I ask of course, what? She says just go to the end counter I got you. Meet in the bathroom in a minute or two.
I head to the bathroom a little confused. She joins me and says I understand crazy nights happen, I’m not judging, but girl we gotta fix this. At this point I’m still lost. I haven’t looked in the mirror so I don’t know what she means.
Inner Monologue Moment: Do I have something in my hair? Is my blouse tucked into my thong? Is my mascara smeared?
I look in the mirror, I’m pink and purple all over my neck and chest area. I go to rub it because I think it’s makeup. My barista chuckles and says do you not know what hickeys look like? This is when it hits me, I’ve got beard burn and hickeys all over in noticeable areas. Fuck, my dad is still visiting at my place. How am I going to explain this? He thinks I stayed at my girlfriends. This is like high school all over again. Except I pay my own bills and he’s in my house!
I tell my barista thank you, head down I grab coffee, walk very quickly to my car. Then I call my bestie explain what happened and I’m panicking. What the hell do I do about my dad? He’s already texted and asked if he should feed his grand puppy because I’m still not home and it’s 8 in the morning.
She tells me don’t panic, breathe, take sip of elixir, here’s what you do: run into the house, drop your bag anywhere, yell out you have to pee to your dad, you’ve been holding since you left my house.
Quote: “Murder is like potato chips; you can’t stop with just one.” ~ Stephen King
5 thoughts on “Shhh…. planning a murder”
My poor wife had to deal with that issue after one of our first dates. She kept me for some reason.
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That’s because your a keeper! 😉
OH lord!!!! if you need grave space, I have a giant back yard!
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Whoa! I’ll keep that in mind… never know. Lol
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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