JK met a guy for drinks after work the other night. It did not go well.
" The first thing out of his mouth is, get this, ' Sorry I'm late. I had a manicure today,' "she said. "Then he holds up his hands to show me and, Jesus, his nails look better than mine do."
" A manicure?" I said. " You're kidding. And that's the first thing out of his mouth?"
" Oh!" she said, grabbing a fistful of my shirtsleeve. "It gets better. All the time we are there he is, like, staring at my boobs. Then he actually says, no lie, ' I can't quit staring at your cleavage'."
" No."
" Oh yeah."
" What is this guy? Some kind of freak?"
" I mean, his fingernails were longer than mine."
" I'm surprised you didn't just get up and leave."
" I'm surprised that I wasn't found dismembered under a bridge somewhere," she said, shuddering at the thought.
I felt better about myself after hearing that story.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
In Little Rock??
If you had been in New Orleans, this would have been just another leisurely afternoon of perusing art :-).
Reminds me of my first Mardi Gras -- 1970, it was. I was very young and clueless (could have been tanked, too). I was lifted up and out of the way by the largest woman I'd ever seen in my life. She and her friends just needed passage through the crowd to the beauty contest at a bar on Bourbon.
(sigh) Those were the days.
lucy
Post a Comment