"An autobiography is only to be trusted when it reveals something disgraceful. A man who gives a good account of himself is probably lying....."
Friday, February 5, 2010
Blood in the Water
Soundtrack to this Post I could see the doubt on her face when I asked her to dance. Too bad I danced circles around her. I was also too pretty for her. A brunette nearby nervously glanced my way as she had at the bar. I casually strolled up and wordlessly extended my hand. We danced a song, her furtive glances stemming from a shy awkwardness that was pleasantly refreshing. A bossy Asian girl proclaimed she went to UNC and that I should go there to dance sometime. I told her I'd pass. Bossy, business like in their interactions Asian girls aren't my cup o' tea. A cute bartender friend chatted with me for a time. A black girl told me I was too pretty for the Asian girl I'd danced with. We laughed and joked for a time. I mocked the leggings and poofy skirts some girls were wearing as what passes for fashion. I was dressed in the heighth of fashion which she appreciated. Her pleasant demeanor and lack of need to prove anything to me was pleasantly refreshing. I felt like I was talking with a human being, not a fembot programmed to prove she doesn't need a man.
The black girl made a lot of innuendo about fucking. For a change, I could tell it wasn't the type of sex talk that white girls use which is bullshit and proves just talk. She was testing the waters and gauging my reaction. She wasn't pretty enough for me either.
The brunette from earlier kept glancing my way as I sat and stared into the throng of people from a comfortable couch. An older devotchka asked me to take a picture. I told her that my photography skills could be purchased in exchange for a beer. She thought I was kidding. I reiterated my price in trade. She acted offended, then got some simpy-er lookin' guy to take the photo. T-Minus, 3, 2, 1-a friend of the girl came over and gesticulated wildly about my being rude. I shook my head and sipped my beer. Blaise-fuckin' blah. Sometime later another friend of the group apologized for the harpy friend. We chatted for a bit. I twirled her around the room amidst the smell of cheap cologne, excessive perfume, and human humidity.
I blacked out in my car and slept for hours. Woke up, hurried home, changed/showered, jerked off then headed to work amidst the internal din of my hangover.
Headed into what looks to be a long weekend folks. Good luck and happy hunting. Your humble narrator presses forth as always. Hoist the black flag and all that shit. - With Greatest Affection