I woke up this morning fully rested and prepared to conquer my day. What’s in store? Well I have already had my morning cup o’ Joe and crepes, trolled Facebook (such a bad idea, I should have stayed off), and now I am hanging out with y’all before I go workout. Before I get into my next story, I do want to throw a question/statement out there. What may surprise you, is that I am a young conservative woman whom voted for Trump, our new President elect. I wonder this morning if what I write can be compared to locker-room talk like Trump was chastised in regards to during the campaigning. I am not physically hurting anyone, nor did Trump. My words are crude sometimes, okay a good majority of the time, and so were his. But am I really doing anything wrong, I am exercising my God given right to freedom of speech just like Trump was. Do women/men really think that all men don’t talk like locker-room talk? Men and women both do!
This past Friday I went bowling with friends, which included lots of alcohol (#alchie) as most single girl Friday nights do. We bowled, we had fun, and I lost in stride. After almost two hours of bowling, the party continued on out to the bars. To our surprise, there was no one out and nothing of interest happening! So we hopped from one bar to another, and I magically found someone to talk to/flirt with. It was funny, the third bar (the grossest of them all) we landed at I ran into these two guys that we had bumped into at the first bar. Both cute, both military, and neither of them greenies. I started talking and innocently flirting. They were drinking my favorite drink (Moscow mule) so they already had points in my book.
The one I gravitated towards was tall, slightly country, cute, and funny. We will call him Cap (he was wearing a ball cap, I know I am sooooo creative). We started talking about what we both had been up to and the amazingness of Moscow mules. He then starts into a story. Something about a doctor from Chicago that had helped an elephant in Africa with a hurt foot (that just screamed the folktale about the Lion’s paw and the mouse). The elephant ended up in a zoo in Chicago that the doctor visited with his sons. While visiting the doctor recognized the elephant and decided to go into the enclosure to reconnect (or some BS like that). Once in the enclosure, the elephant goes to wrap his trunk around the Doctor, in what I assumed was going to be a hug. Cap finishes off the story with the man being violently thrown against the side of the enclosure by the elephant, because he states it ended up being a different elephant……
This is seriously the caliber of single men left in the world?!? Cap was grinning ear to ear, loving his anecdote and thinking it had won me over or something. To tell you the truth, I did laugh a little. And that’s where his story ends, I was pulled away by a friend that wanted to move on and didn’t like the look of Cap, or the way I was looking at him. Who knows!
We stumbled our way to yet another bar, or two. There we ran into more friends, and more guys. This is where the real story is. I locked eyes with a handsome greenie…. Yes, you read that correctly – a greenie; the part of the species I try to stay away from. This one caught my eye, and I was hooked. He was a tall glass of Non-Aged Rum. He was playing pool, a game that only alcohol improves for me, and I watched him like a hawk (I definitely just tried to spell that halk) as my friend played him. He finally noticed (sorry men, but if a girl has no drink in her hand, immediately offer her one) that I was drink-less, so he offered to by me a drink; however, it wasn’t a classy going to get me a drink it was more like “hey here’s $5, get what you want”. Warning sign one.
I never turn down free drink money, so I go up to the bar near friends to order a drink. Which was quickly planted in front of me thanks to my friend. So I returned to Non-Aged Rum with his $5. Warning sign two. I totally believe in signs and things that may not seem important being representations of our psyche or underlying desires.
He keeps playing and I keep watching. Then last call hits, and friends decide they want waffle house. I follow, closely towing Non-Aged Rum behind me, and we exchange numbers in the parking lot with my friends closely watching and urging me to leave. Non-Aged Rum suggests that we should continue the party, and I was a little wishy washy in my head but my body was definitely saying yes. Warning sign three. I leave him behind with his greenie friends, and make my way to my car. Then drunk M says “fuck it, just take him home”. So my happy ass, turns her car around to pick him up. As I wait, pathetically, in the parking lot for Non-Aged Rum to make up his mind, it hits me just how young he is. I mean for god sake this greenie was 21! And while I am waiting, he is basically getting permission from his friends. I stopped that shit years ago!
Finally we are on our way to Waffle House to meet my friends, because I was really hungry (for food) at that point. We walk in and I immediately need the restroom, which he follows me into. Afraid to confront my friends, so I am basically babysitting this greenie and trying to convince him that my friends won’t say anything to him. After what seemed like a long time, two friends walk into the area we are standing in to assess the situation. At this point, I was annoyed by Non-Aged Rum and no longer hungry. So we leave and on the way to my house, I explain to this kid that there is no snow-balls chance in hell that I am having sex with him. Warning sign four. He begins trying to talk me into it, which it takes quite a lot to talk me into something once my mind is made up.
And that was it…. His ass got dropped off at Harris Teeter at 2:30 AM and this girl got cookout. I was a little pissy about the situation, but in the end I won out. I kept my worth and didn’t fall prey to a gorgeous greenie. And I did not have to pay to high of a price for not following my own rules, my own predilections.
“Just take this as a warning. Know that there’s always a price for not being yourself.” – Benilde Little, Acting Out
I hate to say it, but I have to go. My tush is starting to hurt from sitting and I have to get ready for my workout, then loads of studying later. Until next time…
XOXO – M