The Ex
-B yes, it's really me...
This past Saturday, I decided to grace the lower east side with my presence and as soon as I was done chugging my 40oz Coors light, my pink face indicated that I was good to go. Armed with a Fez like haircut and a shirt that I must've gotten when my mom was still wiping my ass, I stepped out of my apartment with the two J's and hailed a cab.
"Rivington and Stanton please!" one of the J's yelled with drunken authority. Turns out those two streets run parallel to each other so the address we gave him was about half a mile long. Either way we found the place, La Caverna on Rivington and Essex.
I'd been to this place before. The cavernous walls, the dark bar, the all hip hop DJ: it was all too familiar. And after about 2 drinks in, I saw something else that was all too familiar.
What the hell is wrong with me? Am I a fucking 4 year old? Standing across from me at the bar, I saw my ex from nearly a decade ago. The first girl I ever had a real relationship with, and by real relationship I mean the first girl I danced the horizontal hokey pokey with. But my reaction came as a total surprise to me, and to the two J's.
J: Ummm... B, why are you crouching on the floor?
B: Oh uh... I dropped a quarter.
J: You've been down there for like 10 minutes, is it really worth it for a quarter?
B: Well... if you must know, my ex is over at the other side of the bar and I REALLY don't want her to see me...
J: Err... okay...
To better understand the situation, some background about my ex would help. My ex was a big girl. Not fat, just big. She was probably about my height and my weight, and she was also extremely insecure about this. But she was at that perfect level of insecurity where it was enough so that she'd bitch and complain about her weight every day, but not enough for her to jog her rhinocerous ass back into shape. Lucky me.
Strangely enough, one of the reasons I didn't want to talk to her is because I was partially embarrassed. I know, it's fucking evil and the devil's probably saving me his hottest seat in hell, but I really didn't want the people I was with to know that I went out with this chick. Had she been a hot girl, then it probably would've been a totally different story.
So anyways, my whole point is that every once in a while you find yourself. You find things that you didn't know were there. And this past weekend, I found that I have the emotional maturity level of a fetus. What the fuck is wrong with me?
This past Saturday, I decided to grace the lower east side with my presence and as soon as I was done chugging my 40oz Coors light, my pink face indicated that I was good to go. Armed with a Fez like haircut and a shirt that I must've gotten when my mom was still wiping my ass, I stepped out of my apartment with the two J's and hailed a cab.
"Rivington and Stanton please!" one of the J's yelled with drunken authority. Turns out those two streets run parallel to each other so the address we gave him was about half a mile long. Either way we found the place, La Caverna on Rivington and Essex.
I'd been to this place before. The cavernous walls, the dark bar, the all hip hop DJ: it was all too familiar. And after about 2 drinks in, I saw something else that was all too familiar.
What the hell is wrong with me? Am I a fucking 4 year old? Standing across from me at the bar, I saw my ex from nearly a decade ago. The first girl I ever had a real relationship with, and by real relationship I mean the first girl I danced the horizontal hokey pokey with. But my reaction came as a total surprise to me, and to the two J's.
J: Ummm... B, why are you crouching on the floor?
B: Oh uh... I dropped a quarter.
J: You've been down there for like 10 minutes, is it really worth it for a quarter?
B: Well... if you must know, my ex is over at the other side of the bar and I REALLY don't want her to see me...
J: Err... okay...
To better understand the situation, some background about my ex would help. My ex was a big girl. Not fat, just big. She was probably about my height and my weight, and she was also extremely insecure about this. But she was at that perfect level of insecurity where it was enough so that she'd bitch and complain about her weight every day, but not enough for her to jog her rhinocerous ass back into shape. Lucky me.
Strangely enough, one of the reasons I didn't want to talk to her is because I was partially embarrassed. I know, it's fucking evil and the devil's probably saving me his hottest seat in hell, but I really didn't want the people I was with to know that I went out with this chick. Had she been a hot girl, then it probably would've been a totally different story.
So anyways, my whole point is that every once in a while you find yourself. You find things that you didn't know were there. And this past weekend, I found that I have the emotional maturity level of a fetus. What the fuck is wrong with me?
posted by CEO of the World at 10:58 AM
1 Comments:
Sounds like standard guy behaviour to me. Not that that's supposed to make you feel better but at least you've got lots of company.
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