Velvet in Dupont 17 Jan 2006 8:11 pm
I must have a little spring in my step because all of a sudden, everyone is on my ass. Hey! You in the back! Stop giggling! These things have happened to me in the last three days.
Inappropriate Ask-Out Situation #1: The Painter
A painter working in my building asked me if I needed any painting done in my house. I said that my bathroom door fell off the hinge and I just need that fixed. He offered to do it and came to my house Saturday and fixed the door while I was in pre-date warmup for my evening with CL#4NewJersey.
Velvet: Thanks so much for fixing this. What do I owe you?
Painter: Why don’t you cook me dinner?
Velvet: Uh, I don’t cook. Why don’t I just give you some money?
Painter: Don’t worry about it.
Velvet: Come on, you bought the stuff to fix this, you have to let me give you something.
Painter: Ok. Ten bucks.
Velvet thinks: Sold! To the Handyman in my apartment with the giant belly!
By the way, tonight I made a delicious Minestrone soup, and I ate it alone. It was good. Last week I made seafood pasta in sherry cream sauce. But uh, yeah. I don’t cook.
Snark aside, why did I force the money on him? This is very important, pay attention foolish women who mooch favors from men by batting eyelashes: Once I paid for services rendered with the American Dollar, he could no longer feel as if I “owed” him something, i.e. a dinner that I didn’t want to have. Never accept a free favor from a person who you don’t want anything to do with. It was tacky of him to ask me out since I basically hired him to work for me. But it would be more tacky of me to not give him anything for the work, then avoid his advances.
Inappropriate Ask-Out Situation #2: Phil Hartman Reincarnated
Walking the dogs Sunday night. A man is standing on the sidewalk about 100 feet ahead of me. He turned around, spied me coming toward him and waited. He had that “I’m lost” look on his face. And here we go.
Phil Hartman’s Ghost: Can you tell me where the Dupont Market is?
Velvet: It’s on 18th Street, make a left up here. and a right on 18th.
PHG: What about a library? A real quiet one?
Velvet: I have no idea. Are you looking for a place with internet access or a true library?
PHG (acting if I just offered him Anthrax:) Oh NOO!!! I don’t want a place with internet.(Believe me, at this point, I knew I was in trouble and was happy I had left my wallet at home.)
Velvet: I’m sorry, I don’t know. There might be one down 17th Street.
PHG: Is it quiet?
Velvet: I really couldn’t tell you. I’m not even positive it exists.
PHG: So, dinner at your place or mine?
Velvet: (uncomfortably laughing and happy we are approaching dog park. Also happy that someone in the park has already called out to me “Hey Velvet! I had a dream about you last night.” I mean, really, could that have gone ANY better for me?)
PHG: Ok, where’s the market again?
There’s a lesson to be learned here as well. I think it might be “Don’t talk to strangers,” but I’m willing to hear everyone else’s opinons.
Inappropriate Non-Ask-Out Situation #3
Enter The Bartender, stage left. I got a message from him saying that he needed to talk to someone. I called him back and he told me that he really liked this girl and he was screwing up all over the place. He couldn’t manage to give her space, and he kept calling her or something. Ok. Two things. First, clearly, I’m no better off because I really like CL#4NewJersey and I have no idea what I’m doing. Second, why the FUCK are you calling a girl you used to date for advice? I know we’re cool and all, but not that cool. That’s just a little weird. But, it gets weirder. I have to temporarily violate my rule of not talking about sex, because this is just too good.
I get a text message from the bartender asking me the following: “What date did we have sex?” Huh? I wrote back and said, “Is this a trick question?” He called me and said he thinks it was the 14th of October or whatever. Since I don’t have diary to consult, I can’t exactly confirm this.
Velvet: I’m sorry, why are you asking me this? I have no freaking idea. I don’t keep it written down anywhere.
The Bartender: Well I’m getting serious with that girl and I want to get all my ducks in a row, so I’m getting tested.
Velvet: Do you find any of your recent calls to me mildly insulting to me?
The Bartender: What? I just asked you a question.
Velvet: Yeah, and it’s ridiculous for you to be asking me for advice on another girl and even more ridiculous that you are asking me when we had sex. Christ.
The Bartender: I don’t get it.
Velvet: You know, anything you say to me is subject to end up on the blog.
Look, you just can’t make this stuff up.