part oneto recap:
1. it's friday, i'm bored, and suffering from the plasmic punctuation.
2. i've just received a call from a guy, but not just any guy...the dreaded "maybe if i talk to him long enough i can convince myself he's interesting" guy.
3. our drivel skirmish has begun with him asking me about my plans for friday night.
why yes, it is a combination worthy of dry heaving, but then that'd make for a really short entry (which, judging from some of the comments in the previous entry, would be considered an improvement...)
but guess what?
this is MY blog, damnit!
so get ready for the long, drawn out, and probably unfinished version of the story.
aiight, so the battle has begun and i've gotta figure out a strategy that will:
1. get me off the phone in five minutes or less
2. let him know i'm not interested in him 'like that' but am open to hanging out with him so i am exposed to his cute and less boring friends...without looking like sup.ahead da chickenhead.
3. get me off the phone in five minutes or less
so important, i had to say it twice.
my maneuvers include:
the truth: "nothing planned. gonna just chill out here."
the whole truth: "gonna spend my night beneath the covers, squeezed into a painfully tight fetal position while i bleed for eve's sins all over the bed."
or nothing but a lie: "actually, i'm waiting for you to ask me out, as i've thought of nothing but you since we met a month ago."
without much thought, i go with an abbreviated version of the truth, coupled with my first tactical error.
"nothing planned," i say in response, "what's going on with you?"
rule number one in keeping a conversation short:
NEVER, EVER ask a question requiring an answer other than yes or no. it's the equivalent of "thank you sir may i have another?!?"
my intellect is bent over, awaiting its cerebral spanking.
"i've been out of town for the last three weekends so i'm enjoying being at home," he answers, then pauses...thus leaving himself vulnerable to my counterattack.
the bomb falls from my lips, it's descent tailed by a whistling noise as it drops from the sigh...
"cool."
this monosyllabic word annihilates even the most colloquial of opponents. when coupled with just the right amount of emotional indifference, it will not only completely obliterate a thread of conversation until it's little more than the burning embers of intented delineation, it also provides a route of escape for those seeking to be emotionally unattainable...folk like me. in fact, i've used that one more than a few times over the past year, to almost 100% effectiveness:
guy i was fucking who caught feelings during said fucking: "i love you."
me, as i swallowed the panic and urged him to keep the hips moving: "cool."
or
crazy cow (better known as my boss) after she told me i was doing a great job: "by the way...i know we just hired you, but we've been forced to do a departmental reorganization, which means your job is probably gonna be eliminated."
me, reminding myself to put on latex gloves before i strangle the bitch: "cool."
or
physician's assistant during a recent doctor's visit: "here's a topical cream for immediate relief, but you're gonna have to shave all that off in order to get rid of them all."
me, after cursing the guy who caught something else in addition to feelings, with his fast ass: "cool."
ex hubby: "my mom is dead."
me: "cool!"
aiight, so the last two were complete falsehoods and perhaps one shouldn't exclaim out loud how cool it is that her wicked witch of an ex mother-in-law is dead, but you get my drift...
anyhow, so i've just dropped my atomic bomb of conversation killers, cheezing into the phone in silent glee as i await erection of his white flag (that is not my pet name for his penis), ala "aiight, well i just called to [insert nonsensical blabber...just get off the damn phone already.]
breath is bated...
as i wait...
then he states...
"so you didn't do much talking last time we spoke. tell me about you."
DAMN DAMN DOUBLE DAMN!!!
he resorts to the most low down dirty, filthy, heinous, devious tactic in the history of repartee combat, a nimble inquiry piercing through my indifference until it exposes the most vulnerable part of me...
my ego.
i try to maintain my distance but i'm growing weaker. his curiosity has cut into my apathy, bleeding it of sarcasm until my response is soaked with the arrogance gushing from my exposed vain.
"hmmmz..." i begin even as i realize my plans for escaping from the cell of this conversation will be nixed for at least an additional thirty minutes (and that's with the abbreviated version where i only speak in acronyms).
i hear a sinister laugh and think nothing of it as i continue talking about all things nikki.
by the time i finish (or run out of breath, it gets blurry there towards the end...) it's 37 minutes into an exchange that was supposed to have ended 32 minutes prior.
"i dig you," he says at the end of my tale, "you seem like an earthy sista."
earthy? what da hell he mean by that?
"what da hell u mean by that?" i ask, my question straddling the fence between offense and inquisitiveness.
"i mean you sound like you're down."
what, down by law? [only atliens will get that reference]
"am i being recruited for a gang or something?"
okay, so i am being purposefully obtuse. really though...who says shit like "you sound like you down" unless they're talking about something foul? the word 'down' has all kinds of nefarious dealings attached to it: down-low, crackdown, downfall, rundown, breakdown, facedown...none of which inspire giddy goodness in a person, feel me? (actually, 'facedown' has potential for greatness in theory, but it's tied moreso to death than sex).
he laughs. i squint my eyes in distrust as i again heard that whisper of menace in his voice.
"no, of course not," he tacks on the end of the chuckle, "i mean you are down to earth."
"oh."
what do i say to that? that's unbelievably trite of you? might as well have said "girl, you deep." like i'm a pot hole or something.
"so i take it you don't have any immediate plans for tonight," he states, thus guaranteeing his election as mayor of obvious town.
"nah, not really."
"aiight," he says, "i have an idea. it'll allow us to get to know each other real well."
skepticism grabs my adventurous nature and tries to pin it down but i have too much time on my hands...tactical error number three billion two hundred twenty-one in this battle.
"okay, i'm in. what's up?"
"let's play a game of truth or dare."
"what?"
ut oh...
curiosity + boredom =
'DAAYUM! YOU GOT KNOCKED DA FUCK OUT!"with one battle ended, a new one begins...
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