Suck My Guac

Alright, yes reader, it’s been a long time. Save me the lecture. It was just as hard for me as it was for you. But frankly, Kate went on a month-long vacation, and I couldn’t help feeling jealous. Fuck you, Kate, I’m not going to write for the blog for the month, see how you like that! I’m not sure why I did this. Especially considering the only ones hurt were you my dear, fragile, baby-bird-like readers.

During this moratorium I started reflecting. Thinking back on all the posts I’d written over the past few months, I’ll be honest with you reader, I wasn’t impressed by my life. The problems with online dating? Over dramatized mundane situations? What was the point? Nothing had changed. So with that in mind, here’s some more.

Tonight I went on a date. At least I’m pretty sure it was a date. I paid for everything and got a kiss at the end. So I’m thinking, yep, a date. With a girl. Who I met. Online. But a while ago! We met once, for coffee – because coffee is the safest 1st meeting, easy in-and-out if need be – but she was bomb. Then she moved away. What the fuck!? I know, reader, I know. But she came back and we went out again, still a dope-ass fly biddy. But she was only here for a while, left again. Damn it. Well, she’s back, again, for a little while, again.

On the level, best date yet. Three really is the charm. She was great, funny, playful, all around enjoyable. I, too, was going way above and beyond my limit of smoothness considering all the lame-ass-white-guy I have going for me. We had really good food, went to a really terrible horror movie – Drag Me To Hell, in someways it was perfect, I have to admit. Then I fucked it all up.

When we went down to the parking lot and I peaked into her car to check for an old gypsy woman – you had to be there – and she felt embarrassed because her car was “dirty.” Bitch, please. I took her over to my car because I’m in first grade and think the way to impress a girl is to show her something gross then pull her hair, step on her toes, and run away.

I swing open the door to reveal my masterpiece. Check out the old fast-food bags, baby. Oh yeah, that’s a sleeping bag and a pillow. Uh-huh, that’s right darlin’, those are three old news papers. I did, however, manage not to show her the unidentifiable, decomposing, black, organic mass under the driver’s seat. I think it was an orange or a kitten.

She went back to her car, got in, and started it. I opened the door of my car, looked at the mess, turned around, realized my gas cap was unscrewed – god, get your life together, man! – and walked back to her car. I knocked on the window and asked for another kiss. Suave? Nah, just figured it would be the last one I’d get.

You want to know the best part about this, reader. She occasionally reads Suck My Guac. So now she’s probably thinking, it wasn’t a big deal, you’re a spaz, AND you have an unidentifiable, decomposing, black, organic mass under the driver’s seat of your car which I now know about.

See what I do to keep posting for you, reader?

- Jamie