|
sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
|
The Demon With the Digits
So Patrick asked me for my phone number. (Yeah, you're all thinking what only The Demon Who Always Does The Right Thing had the cojones to say: "Why'd he ask for your phone number?") And here's the thing about being asked for phone numbers and having been part of a couple since I was, oh, fourteen: Guys just don't do that. So it's a bit weird to stand there and hand out my phone number to someone, some guy, even some guy whom I know as well as I know Pat. Though actually, it was quite a while ago that he asked (Sophistica was still in town) and he hasn't called, but I'm not so much on sweating the boys not calling. Because I've heard that they can be like that. So I'll bet you're dying to know the details. Well, I'm dying to tell apparently. Max, Soph, x, and I went into SophII's for coffee and to see Pat. Pat is quite the animated storyteller and amused us for a long while with stories about how he once almost joined a cult and about the crazy drill sergeant he had in the marines and about feeling up some guy he mistook for his girlfriend and about accidentally setting himself on fire early one fine morning. We had coffee and listened and joked around. And then Soph and x were going to go off and find the sick Soph some cough syrup, so we all got up to leave. I followed Soph and x and Max followed me. As I was going out the door, Pat called me back. And so I turned and walked back. And Max turned and walked back with me. So here's the thing about Max: I love him. I do. I mean, I married the guy once just to prove it. But he's clueless. I mean, he was clueless before we got married. He was clueless when I left. He was clueless when we divorced. He's clueless. He's the guy who turns around to look when you say, "Don't turn around, but--" He's the guy who asks, "Did you just kick me under the table?" He's the guy who says, "What? What'd I say?" when you give him the I'm going to kill you when we get home look. Is that enough evidence for you? The guy's clueless. So Max followed me back to where Pat was standing and then he stood there, just a bit behind me, while Pat said, just a bit uncomfortably, "Can I have your phone number?" So I gave it to him. But returning for a moment to the clueless Max: The Demon and her Grrlfriend and I are planning to go for sushi tomorrow night. I told her all about the raging crush on the sushi chef and she wants a viewing, which I wholeheartedly agreed to because, well, The Demon has good fishing skills, and I'd like to catch me some Aisho. And Max? Well, he wanted to go along. He was, like, I'd like to see the sushi chef again, and I've never met The Demon's Grrlfriend. And I was, like, um. Honey? Don't you think that bringing along the gay ex-husband when I'm planning to hit on some poor unsuspecting sushi chef is a bit--well, it's poor form, don't you think? And it took a moment for him to realize that this might, you know, just be the teensiest bit true. And the sad thing is, this whole clueless Max thing is in effect even when Max is not around. Like the other day, I went into the video store. There's this hottie of a clerk who I love--or would like to, given the chance. He's the clerk who once told Max (sent by me with a list of movies to rent) that I had fabulous taste in movies. (Those were his words, can you believe it? I mean, when the video store clerks in the cool independent video store think you have fabulous taste in movies? Well, hang it up, baby. You're in.) And did I say he's a hottie besides? So, um, right. So now that I'm single, I went in to, you know, rent some movies and have a hottie clerk viewing. And I picked up a few movies, including one recommended by the hottie, and went over to check them out. Now, to check out movies, you have to give your phone number, and all your info pops up and so on. My phone number, of course, is the old phone number from Max's house. And all the information on the account is, of course, still the pre-divorce information. And so the hottie pulls up my account and says, "Are you and Max still at--?" And I think I may have actually hung my head before nodding. It was sad. Sad, I tell you.
More lies:
|
|||||