wow.
thursday started off normal. i had a second interview at the pretentious sushi place and it looks good. i should be starting the second week of January. so that’s cool.
i was speaking to my older brother shortly after the interview. he was on the train, on his way home from work. we talked about life and women and such. my brother’s gay which gives him the uncanny ability to understand women. he also loves me which gives him the uncanny ability to understand me. obviously because I’m so dark and intelligent that is a feat not easily achievable. anyways, he said something that peaked my interest. he said i need to try looking for an older woman. an older woman. all of my recent exploits have been not-so-much-older. james knows so much: he was absolutely right.
my clothes still smell like an ashtray that was used, incinerated, sprinkled into the tobacco of a philip n morris ciggy, then smoked, and deposited in a 20-year-old public ashtray. who doesn’t love a good dive bar though? jerk-offs. the answer to the prior question is jerk-offs.
already drunk, I stumbled into silver cue. well, I shouldn’t say I stumbled because I was still coherent at this point. not stumbling. anyway, I happened to the bar and realized that the friends I had made at the previous bar, that I assumed were following me to silver cue, had dissipated into the sprawling gainesville night life. no worries though. james was right. last night was a night of change. obama change! so i ordered myself a bud light, because i’m classy, and proceeded to smoke and drink myself into a fine evening. it was about 20 minutes post beer-smoke that i noticed a black girl making eye contact with me from across the bar. with my veins and liver swollen with liquid confidence, I decided that now was the time to make my graceful approach. i’m pretty sure i slipped a little bit on my way but i could be wrong. i dont remember perfectly, it just seems like something I would do.
i introduced myself and she replied in kind saying that her name was keisha. i looked deep into her eyes and thought: you have an incredibly and unfortunately stereotypical name for a black woman. i shit you not. she looked back at me, smirked and said, “I know. It’s the stereotypical black girl name.”
i think i should consult james regarding lotto numbers
keisha and i, apparently, had a long conversation about important things and life and all that. honestly i don’t remember much of it. i can picture what her face looked like as we sat at the bar, sloppy I’m sure, discussing (yelling over music) meaningful things about life. what i do remember clearly is that i took her home and had the most unbelievable sex i have ever had in my entire life. 24 years isn’t an especially long period of time, but still, this was unbelievable. i dunno if any of you have ever been with someone of the african-american ethnicity, but it’s quite the experience. first off, her vagina had a completely different smell to it. the smell is actually still on my fingers even after washing my hands numerous times.
I woke up to the smell of bacon. i brushed my teeth and went into the living room where i could see keisha making breakfast in one of my snazzy work shirts. i punched myself directly in the genitals for finding myself in the hollywood-eriffic situation (not really but i should have). i told her it smelled good and she said that it should. such confidence in her culinary abilities. how can you not appreciate that? i grabbed some coffee and then grabbed her ass. she immediately turned around, looked me dead in the eye and asked, quite perplexed, “really?” I suppose it was a bit lame but what can you do? I sat down and rubbed my throbbing temples. keisha served us both breakfast and we discussed the night before. apparently she found my drunken / flirtatious behavior endearing. we enjoyed the meal and then she informed me that she had a business proposal that needed to be worked on forcing her leaving to vacate my apartment immediately. i asked if she was in the business school at UF. she looked at me with a puzzled expression. i realized that i just might have fucked up. she informed me that she had graduated many moons ago. i replied with a question as to how old she was. the hole i was digging had now gotten so deep that no rescue would be possible. at least i thought so.
she’s 32.
i bagged a 32 year old. my confidence is soaring right now. i mean she left and i don’t really think she’ll be calling anytime soon. however, before she left she said something to me that i still can’t figure out. she told me that i’m not as cool as i think i am. weird shit. i dunno
update: she thinks I’m cool. just not as much as I do. that has to mean something. more on the analysis of the situation as it develops
