After last night’s failed attempts at solidifying a decent piece of ass, I decided to take up David on a mid-afternoon date at the W for mimosas. Throughout the week, he and I had been texting and flirting and, in all honesty, I actually liked the guy enough to get to know him and venture out of my apartment all strung-out and hungover; he seemed really nice.
He hit me up talkin about, “Yeah I can come over and we can engage in some slaps and tickles.” Fucking what? What the fuck does that mean? Over morning coffee with Drama, it was discussed…
Me: Drama, I don’t get it…I mean I’m kinda into him but SLAPS AND TICKLES?! WTf that sounds like he’s just trying to fuck…I thought he liked me too *now realizing how upset I am at the fact that I might just be a piece of ass to him*
Drama: Na, baby, listen, he’s just taking your temperature. That’s what guys do. They test you to feel you out to see how much of a whore you are. So if you agree to it, then you’re a fucking whore and he’ll probably fuck you and never talk to you again. But if you don’t then you’re a good girl.
Me: REALLY?! *now excited that I MUST HAVE passed the test since I deflected the statement about coming to my place and instead going out* YESSSS THEN I PASSED?!
Drama: Yeah you did.
Now beaming from having passed a whore-test (somehow…), I ventured out into the daylight somehow managing to look sexy as hell considering how physically fucked up I was feeling and headed over to the W to meet up with him…
Mind you, I met David while entirely too fucked up for comprehension so I don’t even really remember what he looked like. All I remembered was that he was really sweet, he didn’t hit on me in a creepy way, we had great conversation, and there was definitely some sort of connection. OK, cool, I’m game. Upon arriving at the W, I hit him up, considering I really couldn’t tell him from any other guy considering I could barely remember what he looked like all I remembered was that he was tall and white? Maybe? I hear him holler out my name and I look over to see some tall, skinny, white guy wearing a brown fedora, gigantic sunglasses, and a plaid shirt. Fuck…this is deceiving because sunglasses and a hat will make ANYBODY look sexy! We sit down, I get a better look, and realize he’s bald, much older than me, and he smokes Newports…..aaaagh.
I decide to look past all that as time passes because we really did hit it off. I’m sitting here listening to his gangster thug stories from life in Chicago, reasoning with myself that, “Fuck it who cares if he’s not big, buff, and beautiful or that he says ‘eeey yeah das cooooooo beybee’? I think he’s sweet, funny, he laughs at my jokes, and he’s tall” After three hours of great conversation and me shedding my superficial judgmental dating lens, we get up and take off to head home.
We’re walking down Hollywood Blvd back to my place, discussing our social lives and our involvement (or lack of) in the LA nightlife when he lights up a cigarette. He eventually passes it to me and I, thinking “Fuck it why not?”, decide to have just a drag to add to the trashy-skanky-party-girl-from-last-night image I was currently sporting anyway. I inhale, and only now realize from the smell that FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!! THIS ISNT A CIGARETTE! This mother fucker really lit a joint and passed it to me in the middle of the day on Hollywood Blvd! One hit was enough, I was blazed. DAMMIT! Who IS this guy?! Now, between last night, this morning’s recovery, and this joint, I’m beyond fucked up. Ugh. Unintentionally, mind you. He’s still talking and talking and talking and eventually he says…
Him: Yeah I don’t go out too much because I have a girlfriend
Me: *realizing I’m pretty stoned and may not have heard correctly, I abruptly stop, look over, and in stunned amazement at what i MAY have heard…reply* Wait…excuse me…I’m pretty high but WHAT did you just say…?
Him: *awkwardly giggling* Yeah…I have a girlfriend that lives with me
UGH! I came out of my apartment and decided NOT to rest my poorly, abused body for THIS?! We eventually make it back to my place, I give him The Fugitive (the one armed hug with the ass sticking out as to not make any further body contact) and send him on his way… Now I’m attempting to sober the fuck up as a means to make it out tonight with Angel and Sunny…somebody wish me luck. Oh….and by the way…
Slaps and Tickles = RED FLAG.