Desperate but not serious
As I've written before, I'm friends with many of what I call the Taxi Boys, a group of guys who work for a bike taxi service that transports tourists and partygoers to points downtown. Most have varying degrees of attraction to me. A few (namely, T.) have even outright hit on me. I don't mind this; I'm a flirt and the boys are smart enough to know I'm never going to slide between the sheets with them. Not that some of them, namely T., ever stop trying.
One of them, whom I shall call Mohawk for the fact that he has a bit of one, I know has been crushing on me for quite a while. He's a nice guy, been through some hard times. He's been in a long battle with his ex-wife, one of those sad stories where she poisoned their kids (now fully grown) against him. I feel for him. He's also had me spin at his party last summer, which he thought would be a blowout but had an attendance of a whopping eight people. Never mind, still had fun and even got a small gig out of it.
He made an attempt to ask me out before, to which I politely turned him down. Besides the baggage, I don't find anything remotely physically attractive about him. I did make sure to be gentle about him, as I do care about him as a friend and human being.
So last night during Moonfest, I made sure to say hi to every Taxi Boy I ran into, hugging them and chatting until they managed to pick up another ride. I spot T. twice. He has no idea I'm a Nexus Diva. I find Mohawk. He has no idea what a Nexus Diva is either. He's making money, as all the Taxi Boys are tonight with the downtown streets shut down. He gets a ride fairly quickly and takes off.
About an hour ago, I turn on my mobile for the day. I'm notified there's a two-part text message waiting. It's from Mohawk:
I want you and I think you want me too. I'm not looking for a girlfriend and I don't think you want a boyfriend either. So let's skip any pretense. I want to have sex with you. If you're not interested, forget I sent this message, but if you are, gimme a call.
What. The. Eff.
One of them, whom I shall call Mohawk for the fact that he has a bit of one, I know has been crushing on me for quite a while. He's a nice guy, been through some hard times. He's been in a long battle with his ex-wife, one of those sad stories where she poisoned their kids (now fully grown) against him. I feel for him. He's also had me spin at his party last summer, which he thought would be a blowout but had an attendance of a whopping eight people. Never mind, still had fun and even got a small gig out of it.
He made an attempt to ask me out before, to which I politely turned him down. Besides the baggage, I don't find anything remotely physically attractive about him. I did make sure to be gentle about him, as I do care about him as a friend and human being.
So last night during Moonfest, I made sure to say hi to every Taxi Boy I ran into, hugging them and chatting until they managed to pick up another ride. I spot T. twice. He has no idea I'm a Nexus Diva. I find Mohawk. He has no idea what a Nexus Diva is either. He's making money, as all the Taxi Boys are tonight with the downtown streets shut down. He gets a ride fairly quickly and takes off.
About an hour ago, I turn on my mobile for the day. I'm notified there's a two-part text message waiting. It's from Mohawk:
I want you and I think you want me too. I'm not looking for a girlfriend and I don't think you want a boyfriend either. So let's skip any pretense. I want to have sex with you. If you're not interested, forget I sent this message, but if you are, gimme a call.
What. The. Eff.