So Much for Birmingham
A little while back, I wrote a post about blog groupies. Or, more specifically, why I didn’t have any. What I got in response were several emails telling me why I didn’t have any and why no woman would be stupid enough to chase after me. Thanks, I appreciate that. But one day I opened up my Gmail and there was a short message with three attached pictures from a girl in my favorite southern city of
Well, apparently this girl, we will call her Southern Girl, or SG (yes, MonkeyPants, I am biting off your shit. Get over it) was not completely comfortable with meeting me out alone. I guess not everyone is as bold as
This became painfully obvious as we sat down to dinner and she began to yell at the guy at the next table “Hey, I know you! You’re Ron Jeremy!” Granted, the guy was a dead ringer for The Hedgehog, but nobody else at the table had bothered to mention it to him as he was trying to eat dinner with his wife. Who did not look much like a porn star. After insisting that our neighbor was, in fact, an adult film actor for a good deal of time, she began calling a guy who was presumably an ex-boyfriend, and insisting that SG drop her off at his house after dinner. “I need to get me some ass!” I believe were her exact words. I guess Cliff just wasn’t her type. SG tried to talk her out of it, and into coming out on the town with the rest of us. It got to the point that she had to drag her into the bathroom to try and talk some sense into her, but it did not fly. SG looked flustered and irate at her friend, but ultimately told us she would drop her friend off and meet us out. “Please don’t think I’m like this at all,” she told me “I had no idea she’d act like this. I’ll meet you there in like 30 minutes”.
Now, usually when a girl says “I’ll meet you in 30 minutes” it means “You suck. I’m blowing you off, have fun hitting on fat girls because I am out of your league.” And this, of course, was my first reaction given my track record of getting blown off. But I had had a few opportunities to talk to SG before I met her, and she had seen pictures of me before, and judging by her tone and body language and the fact that she was not form
“OMG! My friend is getting arrested. This is a total nightmare!” As soon as I saw that, I just pursed my lips, smiled and nodded. I knew this would happen. I thought it wouldn’t. I hoped it wouldn’t. Everyone said it wouldn’t, but deep down I knew it would. Apparently the friend had gotten more belligerent with some cops than she had been with Ron Jeremy, but unlike Ron they did not have a sense of humor about it. At one point she kicked the window of the cop car and the last communication I got from SG (after multiple apologies and a couple of phone calls) was a text saying that she was following a cop and had to get a bail bondmen. Night. Over. Now, the more pessimistic and cynical among us may say “Wow, she went to a lot of trouble to blow you off. But you got blown off,” and the optimistic might say, “Who creates a story like that just to blow a guy off who she’s never met?” I guess I’ll never know, but I like to believe she was telling the truth. That, and since she reads the blog I couldn’t very well call her a liar, now could I?
Assuming this was just bad luck, it is a perfect example for those of you who wonder what I mean when I say my luck with pretty girls is terrible. This is not the 10th time something like this has happened, and I assure you it will not be the last. If I was in fact blown off, well then, I suppose you could ask SG the answer to why attractive girls immediately lose interest. But it is neither here nor there. At the end of the night it was the same old story, and this chapter of White Dade history is officially closed. That being said, I think this blog has gotten waaaay too EMO this week, and I am going to drop the “God, Why Can’t I Ever Get a Hot Girl?” theme. It is starting to read like a girl’s blog told form a male perspective, and I can’t be doing that. It just ain’t me. Those of you who know me know I am hopelessly transparent in person, and I guess my writing is the same way. Tomorrow will be an ode to my car, and next week, I will be back to my racist, misogynistic ranting self. But we all have a soft side, so give me my week to have mine.