Monday May 15, 2006
	At the movies.
	They play alternative, hard to find movies and they serve fancy sandwiches and they sell beer and wine, too. "Excuse me, honey," says my date then walking away from me and toward the ladies restroom. "I'll be thinking about you," she says. "Me too," I say. I'm thinking: I'll be thinking about me?  Shit that didn't make sense.  I should've said I'll be thinking about you, too. "I meant I'll be thinking about her," I say to the woman standing behind me.  "I try not to think about me." "Uh huh," she says. "I mean, I think about me but I usually think about other things like metal detecting and stuff," I say. "Uh huh," says the woman and while she's smiling at me I see her move her hand to the cell phone clipped to her belt. I'm thinking: How dare you lower your hand to your cell phone.  I'm working hard wanting to appear normal and sane and manly and together.  What part of whatever it was I said or did appeared irregular enough so as to make you want to reach for the security of your phone? Send all your uniformed officers immediately...there's this man...he-ain't-right... Hurry! Click! You greasy American whore. I'll swing your Fendi Spy Sequined Grande Handbag 'cross your skull before you have a chance to hit the send button.  You f-ckin' judgmental skag.  Scratch that. Restart. She's probably got kids and she's got a babysitter and being away from her family makes her nervous.  She's thankful for cell phone technology and so long as it doesn't ring she can enjoy her rare night out knowing everything at home is fine and she could care less about you Norm and it's your ego and imagination running wild again.  Turn the f-ck around and get your Coca-Cola and popcorn and get your mind back on the woman you came with. The woman I came with.    The woman I came with is wearing pants she made using a McCall's pattern (M3992) and the belt holding the pants up was fabricated by her also. She enjoys making clothes. She's got a good ass.  I'd like to hold it and pet it and kiss it and bite it and maybe even cry while I'm holding and petting and kissing and biting it.  One of those crying episodes that starts slow and then explodes into an out of control emotional scene where eventually I fall limply to the floor and say something like: "Tell me everything is gonna be okay," or "Keep me safe," or "Can I just hold you for as long as I want?" I'm next in line to be waited on at the candy counter and while I'm standing and waiting I'm thinking: I wonder if my date makes her own panties.  That would be something.  She's sitting at her sewing machine and she's naked and she's applied Lady Danger lipstick by MAC onto her good female lips and while she's steering the fabric past the needle that's going up and down and down and up she's singing Love To Love You Baby by Donna Summer.  I'm at the Sunrise Cinema (standing in line to buy popcorn and a large Coca-Cola) in Hyde Park, Florida and I'm with a woman that I've only recently met.  She's good to look at and she makes her own clothes and she has a good feel about her and she calls me honey. PREVIOUS   HOME   NEXT