Wednesday, 5 August 2009

Dickhead Seduction.

L. suggested we go out (yesterday night) for a drink. She needed to "talk".

L's talking consists of long boring monologues, which soon fade the minute a guy catches her attention, or more like, the minute she manages to catch a guy's attention.

I am not backbiting or anything, besides you don't even know who L. is. I even told her so in her face - I said to her you come across as too desperate. Get a fucking grip. She did not like it and I remember her saying - this is exactly the problem. I have nothing to fucking grip.

I thought that to be quite amusing, but I still maintain that she does come across as too desperate and guys know it.

Anyway L. went into one of her monologues that can only be bearable with some serious doses of alcohol. The only problem is the more she drinks the longer the monologues get. So I, in my mischievous mind earnestly prayed that the alcohol works its way into a full "flaunt-it" seduction game - where she can finally spread her charms and give my poor ears a break. I prayed that any dickhead starts chatting her up, so she can get off my back, for a while at least - enough time for me to recuperate from this boring verbal diarrhea gushing out from her mouth, non stop.

God answered my prayers and walked in these two guys and sat next to us. One of them started chatting her up - thankfully. The other dude was left twiddling his thumbs, occasionally pretending to check his non-forthcoming text messages.

The two guys were like younger than us, than L and I - at least 10 years younger. I'd say more. I knew it because they were playing some techno shit from this year's repertoire of techno shit and the guy with twiddling thumbs knew the lyrics by heart. Lyrics is too much of a word to use for techno shit but whatever - you know what I mean.

A classic opening line.

Twiddling thumbs Guy (TTG) - Your face is familiar, have seen you here before.

Bored sardonic Layla (BSL) - Possibly. Sorry can't remember faces. Been diagnosed with early stage Alzheimer.

TTG - hehehehehe, you're too young for this.

BSL - nope am not, am at least 15 years older than you.

TTG - age is only numbers

BSL - not when you can sing to 2009 techno lyrics.

TTG - hehehehehe, you're cute.

BSL - cute ?

TTG - I meant attractive.

BSL thought to herself, here's come the twist - the rest is going to be too predictable...

TTG - seriously, I have seen you here before.

BSL - Aah, airs of familiarity...

TTG drank too fast, as if he was trying to get if the alcohol was going to evaporate in no time. Of course he was plucking courage for his next move.

TTG with enough alcohol circulating in his system, finally came round. I was just waiting...patiently so, only because I like my theories to be confirmed. And they are, invariably so, eventually...

By then, L. was plastered, probably fantasizing of altars and wedding bells.

TTG - you know, I fancy you.

BSL - yes so ?

TTG - well you are a mature woman, and we are both adults...

At this point, I broke out in laughter. Sure am a mature woman but him being an adult was a little far fetched.

For starters he sang lyrics to techno shit. Not only that, he had absolutely nothing of interest to say. He was good looking, and he knew it and he thought that was sufficient to have women, me, swoon over him. Maybe idiotic 20/30 something would, but hell, where am at - a guy needs to have more than a cute ass and something between his ears (not his dick) to capture my attention...

TTG - you are difficult. Why are you doing that ?

BSL - Are you okay in your "head" ? Difficult in what ?

Of course I knew what he was implying. I was difficult for resisting/ refusing his "charms".

BSL - I think you've had too much to drink. Approach me tomorrow, when you are sober enough.

By then TTG's speech was slurred with too much ethanol. Whatever charm he might have had evaporated as his tongue weighed down with drunkenness went s.l.o.w.e.r...

TTG - you don't fancy me, that's the real reason.

I was hoping he would not start crying and sniffing his tears on my dress, just fresh from the dry cleaners, like those little crushed boys who rush wailing to their mother's lap and she dries them with her apron...

He redressed himself, putting on air of a last minute retrieved virility.

TTG - I fancied you. It either yes or no. Anyway, it's your loss.

I laughed some more, patted him on the shoulder as if to say "it's okay my little one, you'll get over it".

L. did not want to leave. I left her with her illusions. Ordered a cab and smiled all the way back home...