I feel like Dikembe Mutombo.
No no no, not in my house.
(slaps the boy away)
Every prophet in her house.
Jesus fucking Christ I am getting hit on with alarming regularity this week and I am not even ovulating. If this keeps up I will need a guard dog next week.
Oh shit, I let them all go. Metaphorically. I put my poor undersexed girl through torture. Sent her faces to go with the nicknames and we both deleted them one by one as I said goodbye. My posse was a bit much for the last one. Sacrifices.
I had never looked at them all at the same time, it was a little overwhelming, the amount of beauty made my eyes water a bit. They were something to behold. But I had to let them go.
“I’ve named them all the same thing and there is terrible confusion.” Buffy the Vampire Slayer
To be fair Drusilla was looking at the ceiling just imagining stars.
One of the Plastics from work, actually THE Plastic asked me to go out for a smoke with her, so I did.
Asked her if she needed a cigarette or a light, she didn’t (weird) she just wanted to talk to me (weirder). So I waited for it.
She has an assignment for school about ethics. She needs to write a paper on her personal code of ethics. No one at school knows what she does and the inner workings of stripper etiquette would really be lost on the masses I think. “So, if a girl leaves a bandana on a chair it’s like a bookmark to hold her place?” Territorial pissings with bum towels. What’s a bum towel? And so it would go… See what I mean.
Ironically, two weeks ago she literally put herself in between me and a customer I was speaking to when she saw the massive wad of cash he had in his hand. So maybe even if there was a dancer code of ethics to be written, she might not be the best one to ask.
But I digress.
What I said was this…
I am the sister to all women and I fucking hate it lately.
Went out with a cute boy, had an amazing date and towards the end I realized I had heard his stories before, from a different perspective. He is my best-friend’s ex. So I can’t go out with him even though he has gone from scratching at my door to downright kicking it in.
I met another really cute boy, he asked me to hang out and it popped into my head right before I gave him my number to ask if he had a girlfriend, he did, so I walked away without a word.
The Giant that I am still smitten as fuck with is dating someone so I can’t go near him even though I really want to.
Neither my road nor my horse are high.
I’ve been here before, walked a low road before, kicking dead horses and whatnot. Spent my 20’s with no morals, no compass, no rules.
Mine Mine Mine.
24 = I lost a really good friend way back when by fucking her ex.
26 = Jesus had a girlfriend, I knew it, tracked him down anyways, told him where I worked and proceeded to dance for him once a week for a month until we made the leap and I took him home once a week for the next 2 years, the mistress.
29 = I scooped ex-husband out from under his now wifey while they were on a date and we know how that went.
As if to illustrate my point, last night a tall drink of water came up to me at the bar and asked for dances. I had an accidental psychic-no-filter blurt and said “this is going to end badly.” Danced for him for a good long while, he wasn’t bad at all, we got along. I heard my name being called for stage and I asked him what kind of music he liked ‘art rock’ he said. “What the fuck is art rock” I replied. He said “you know, like Explosions in the Sky*.” I almost broke my hello my name is Sarah, it’s been 3 days since I cried at work streak. Held it together. Danced to the Weeknd, Rihanna and some other catchy garbage without triggers. ‘Lemme see you work work work work work.’ It worked.
He left, came back, found me again and asked for more dances.
I was reeling from the déjà vu all over again and the drinks I poured on it, but I managed.
Shift was over but I was making stupid good money so I pushed myself to stay until I couldn’t. In the middle of goodbye he asked for my number and in an attempt to deflect, that question arose, ‘do you have a girlfriend?’
Of course he does.
It ended badly, just like I said it would.
As far as my guard dogs go. I seem to have let my guard down, or called the old one(s) back to life by saying goodbye. Some indestructible goat-spider silken thread that cannae be severed and I accidentally tugged it whilst trying to cut it. ‘Come find me’ he says.
Oh sinnerman where you gonna run to? Nina Simone
Run to Me. thenewno.2
*See also Siren’s Song and Lyrically Speaking (a band I had never heard of before a month ago, now a giant fucking deal)