From the other night...
Y'know, I really don't like guys with cars, sometimes.
No, not the guy who ran me over. Different guy. Friend of a friend of a distant acquaintance who once passed me on the pavement. Maybe.
Holy crap, does this mean... ? Yes! Diaz had a date! A set-up date, with a nice-looking guy who didn't appear to be a mouth-breather, smelled clean, and didn't have fast food containers in drifts in the backseat of his car, nor did he have holes in the floorboards of this same car. A step up from the last time (about eight years ago) that I agreed to let someone else 'help' me, I tell you.
So. I've gone out with him on a night when I'm working, and told him this, as a way to keep it casual. I have to be in New West by 10:45 PM, because my shift starts at 11 PM, and there's just no getting around it.
Guy is a reasonable conversationalist. Can talk about many different things, not all of them sports teams or the cool gadgets he buys with his OMGSOBIG paycheque.
(Guys? Really, if you think telling me how much money you make, or intimating that you make bazillions, is going to impress me... I'm NOT the woman you want to spend a lot of time with. I will start mocking you around about the third time you mention something expensive you've recently bought. Just a heads-up.)
It's 9:45 PM. We're in downtown Vancouver, I've been enjoying myself, he's been quite courteous so far, and I'm thinking, Hey, he might actually like me. He's cute, we're having fun, hooray! Maybe there is a boyfriend in the works.
But. We walk out of the restaurant, I turn toward him to say something, and suddenly there's a hand on my chest and he's squeezing, while wearing this caught/phony-surprise expression. Dude GRABBED MY BOOB AND HONKED IT. Without sound effects, but there was clear honkage. I slapped his hand down, HARD.
He had the nerve to look insulted that I didn't want him mauling my tits while we stood on the sidewalk, if at all.
DATE: Hey, I slipped.
DIAZ: Fuck you, you slipped. You just grabbed my boob, what's wrong with you?
DATE: Hey, it isn't a big deal, it was an accident!
DIAZ: Yeah, EVERYONE walks around with their hands hovering near other people's chests, just in case they slip. I'm not an idiot, DATE. Your mother probably isn't that gullible.
DATE: Fuck you, you bitch. You're not even good-looking.
DIAZ: *doesn't punch DATE, but really really thinks about it* No, there will be no fucking. Ever, you tit-grabbing loser.
DATE: *is aghast, and is then GONE*
DIAZ: *trudges down to SkyTrain, and gets to work 5 mins late*
My boob is STILL kind of sore from being grabbed/squeezed. So... yeah. Some of my friends are NOT solid judges of character.
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I know a woman called Marnie. I don't like her, and she doesn't like me. I have no idea why she doesn't like me, because I honestly can't recall any instance of rudeness or bullshit between us until about our fifth meeting, when she turned snide and bitchy and never looked back. Meh. Can't like everyone, and she put me off, so quite quickly the dislike was mutual.
When I see her (grocery store, bank, whatever), she is invariably rude and insulting. I grit my teeth and escape as soon as possible, because if I were to say to her any of the things that come into my head, I would definitely look like the asshole in the situation.
As some of you are aware, I recently had a bit of an encounter with a car, and it busted my nose up a bit. I have a hot pink scar where I got stitched back up. It looks a lot better than it did when I had the stitches in (she saw me then and was, I think, too shocked to say anything), but is still quite visible.
I got a haircut. Fringe was getting in my eyes, etc.
Marnie saw me the day after the haircut and nearly had me in tears with twelve words: "I'm amazed you want to show more of your face right now."
Nasty bitch.
I'm overtired, or this nonsense wouldn't bother me so much. I just hate it when I take a wee leap of faith on something like going out with a new person, and it turns out such crap. And yeah, I could really do without some of the people I've met in my life, just in general.
Going to bed. Enough maudlin noise, sleep will fix most of this.
No, not the guy who ran me over. Different guy. Friend of a friend of a distant acquaintance who once passed me on the pavement. Maybe.
Holy crap, does this mean... ? Yes! Diaz had a date! A set-up date, with a nice-looking guy who didn't appear to be a mouth-breather, smelled clean, and didn't have fast food containers in drifts in the backseat of his car, nor did he have holes in the floorboards of this same car. A step up from the last time (about eight years ago) that I agreed to let someone else 'help' me, I tell you.
So. I've gone out with him on a night when I'm working, and told him this, as a way to keep it casual. I have to be in New West by 10:45 PM, because my shift starts at 11 PM, and there's just no getting around it.
Guy is a reasonable conversationalist. Can talk about many different things, not all of them sports teams or the cool gadgets he buys with his OMGSOBIG paycheque.
(Guys? Really, if you think telling me how much money you make, or intimating that you make bazillions, is going to impress me... I'm NOT the woman you want to spend a lot of time with. I will start mocking you around about the third time you mention something expensive you've recently bought. Just a heads-up.)
It's 9:45 PM. We're in downtown Vancouver, I've been enjoying myself, he's been quite courteous so far, and I'm thinking, Hey, he might actually like me. He's cute, we're having fun, hooray! Maybe there is a boyfriend in the works.
But. We walk out of the restaurant, I turn toward him to say something, and suddenly there's a hand on my chest and he's squeezing, while wearing this caught/phony-surprise expression. Dude GRABBED MY BOOB AND HONKED IT. Without sound effects, but there was clear honkage. I slapped his hand down, HARD.
He had the nerve to look insulted that I didn't want him mauling my tits while we stood on the sidewalk, if at all.
DATE: Hey, I slipped.
DIAZ: Fuck you, you slipped. You just grabbed my boob, what's wrong with you?
DATE: Hey, it isn't a big deal, it was an accident!
DIAZ: Yeah, EVERYONE walks around with their hands hovering near other people's chests, just in case they slip. I'm not an idiot, DATE. Your mother probably isn't that gullible.
DATE: Fuck you, you bitch. You're not even good-looking.
DIAZ: *doesn't punch DATE, but really really thinks about it* No, there will be no fucking. Ever, you tit-grabbing loser.
DATE: *is aghast, and is then GONE*
DIAZ: *trudges down to SkyTrain, and gets to work 5 mins late*
My boob is STILL kind of sore from being grabbed/squeezed. So... yeah. Some of my friends are NOT solid judges of character.
--------
I know a woman called Marnie. I don't like her, and she doesn't like me. I have no idea why she doesn't like me, because I honestly can't recall any instance of rudeness or bullshit between us until about our fifth meeting, when she turned snide and bitchy and never looked back. Meh. Can't like everyone, and she put me off, so quite quickly the dislike was mutual.
When I see her (grocery store, bank, whatever), she is invariably rude and insulting. I grit my teeth and escape as soon as possible, because if I were to say to her any of the things that come into my head, I would definitely look like the asshole in the situation.
As some of you are aware, I recently had a bit of an encounter with a car, and it busted my nose up a bit. I have a hot pink scar where I got stitched back up. It looks a lot better than it did when I had the stitches in (she saw me then and was, I think, too shocked to say anything), but is still quite visible.
I got a haircut. Fringe was getting in my eyes, etc.
Marnie saw me the day after the haircut and nearly had me in tears with twelve words: "I'm amazed you want to show more of your face right now."
Nasty bitch.
I'm overtired, or this nonsense wouldn't bother me so much. I just hate it when I take a wee leap of faith on something like going out with a new person, and it turns out such crap. And yeah, I could really do without some of the people I've met in my life, just in general.
Going to bed. Enough maudlin noise, sleep will fix most of this.