The Good Life

There’s nothing like a bad date to get you in to the Halloween spirit. Okay, that made no sense. I just wanted to give a shout out that it’s Halloween while not so discreetly letting you in on my evening last night. How about this: There’s nothing like a bad date to make you feel like you may lose your mind if you meet one more fucktard. Yes, I did just use the word “fucktard.” It’s short for fucking retard. When you shorten it, it sounds a tad more on the PC side, no? I digress…

I met Guy through Match.com. We exchanged a few emails and texts and then decided to meet at the restaurant “Street” on Polk. As far as appearance goes, I wasn’t disappointed. He was clean, cute and had good style. What else can I add on the positive side before I launch an all out assault on his character? He smelled good…there, now to the juicy stuff.

I noticed right away that Guy had a problem standing still and focusing in on topics of conversation (which by the way, were mostly about him). It was like somebody had pointed a remote with no stop button at him and pushed fast forward! He talked about anything and everything most of which I zoned out for. There were however, a few topics my sagging ears perked up for. One of which was about what he was looking for in a woman. It’s complicated, you see, because he has a, “dual personality.” One side of him is erudite and deep and the other side goes, “balls to the wall,” partying with Burners in the underground scene until the wee hours of the morning. It will take a special kind of woman that can keep up so to speak (wink, wink).

No sooner had I processed his creepy wink and the words burner and underground, he was already on to the topic of Adderall and ADHD. Which btw, he doesn’t believe is a REAL medical condition; he says this as he shifts positions 20 times in the span of 5 seconds. Apparently he takes Adderall every once in a while just for the heck of it. I asked him if that was how he was capable of staying up all night with his fellow Burners. He chuckled, looked to the side and smirked. “Not exactly…we use Ecstasy. I hate calling it that because that’s its ‘street’ name.” My brain has officially flat lined at this point and I’m staring at him with a blank face that could rival, “Girl Interrupted.” What the hell do you say to that? “Huh, you don’t say.”

The entire time he was flapping his gums my mind wandered to everything from my grocery list and how I needed gas in my car to how I wished the person sitting in front of me was Ryan Reynolds. I caught another line in their about his BMW and how, “…he loves living the good life.” I feigned interest and tried to look impressed with the idea of riding around in his fancy car when really I could give two shits. Ya know, I like to live the good life too, Guy, but MY good life does not include all night drug binges, partying until oblivion or you.