weekend as told through my Running Inner Monologue

[Scene: going to a wedding] … dontbelate dontbelate fuck fuck I forgot how to tie a tie. Google google, okay done. car service, zip a doo da. Why am I sweating. Hair still wet from shower. I look like a convict sitting at the defendant’s table in a rented suit. Unsettled but Dapper. (mental note for blog sub-heading). i’m-not-late i’m-not-late. Yes. Wedding’s in a Green Building near the Gowanus. Oh hi, there’s the groom, and there’s the bride. And there’s second groom and bride. double wedding. Nothing about this wedding will be conventional
Usual O-HAI-been-so-long-what-you-up-to-blah blah blah. Now onto the well revered traditions of the wedding, not the exchanging of vows, but the comprehensive survey of all cute single girls in the room. Hipster waif #1, hipster waif #2, yadda yadda heart stop, a thunderously cute girl flitters into my vision, cue the award music, Cutest Girl in the Room, a half-asian natalie-portman-esque pixie that smiles too easily and steals words out of your mind and all conviction from your heart. brief pause, Remember why you are here SELFISH CRAB, public celebration of love and commitment between like-souls, warmed by the fires lit by family and friendship. I need a drink, pronto. Social grist re-fill. glup glup glup glup.
[Scene: at BAR] Do you have anything harder? Yes that, on the rocks please, thanks. there is an elderly Asian woman standing on my left. why is she staring at me? “Are you Korean?” No, I am Chinese. this must be the groom’s mother. why is she grabbing my hand, where is she leading me where, oh to the side of the room where the groom’s family is hanging out, oh and to a group of girls, and STRAIGHT TO THE CUTEST GIRL IN THE ROOM. “He is Chinese” she says, and then walks away. uhhh okay you have been in worse awkward forced situations. quick. say something. Hi, I am Chinese. nooooo you idiot. say something charming. Apparently. That’s more like it. Self deprecate self immolate what’s the difference.

Why are you goddamn cute. Why do your smiles clear away rain clouds. Why are you saying something nice about patent law– are you feigning interest in my very dry specialty, you purposeful heartbreaker?? Fine, I will say something about Canada, from which you are from. Okay I’ll just name all the provinces I know, nova scotia, Alberta, saskatchewan, Quebec, yes those seduction lessons I got from the 2008 National Spelling Bee champion were very helpful thankful for asking. Are you actually impressed? Why are you so nice? Of course you are a nursing student. of course you work at a home for disabled peoples. Of course you have a heart of gold and a sweetness that would caramelize the scowls on the faces of sourpusses. Some say there is a fine line gentle between seduction and stalking, a line between assertive courtship and the suffocating advances of a social deaf-mute. Well, I whipped it out, and spelt out my name in urine all over that line.

And now you are leaving. Your whole family is leaving. Its late. You don’t want to stay out for another drink with me. Please accept my apologies in that whiskey brain prevents me from doing anything any normal person would do, such as get your phone number, or hatch a more convincing plan than “please please stay out for a drink” and “but you are so cute”, or leave you alone after you said goodbye and walked away. Why am I romantically disabled? I blame the whiskey. For me, WHISKEY IS AMAZING until it’s not, and then it’s very not.

4 Comments

Leave a Reply