Getting married

Thursday, October 26, 2006

On my way home from work earlier, I got a text message from one of my long lost college friends, Missy, who just flew in from Australia. A little backgrounder on Missy and I: As juniors in the business school I attended, we were both transferees from different schools. We pretty much attended the same classes until we graduated and naturally, we hung out a lot. If you've read even one post from this blog, you'll know that for that span of two years we hung out, I tried as much as I could to get into her pants. The farthest I got was a drunken, steamy make out session with her in one of those crazy college house parties we attended on our senior year. Nothing ever came out of this. Probably because after a couple of minutes of intense lip locking in my car, I started to get into my “Vampire: The Masquerade” character and began speaking in weird old English as my right hand made a sortie over her bra strap. It ended in something like this:

Me: [Kissing passionately, using a lot of tongue] mmmfff [trying to unhook her bra]

Missy: [Tenses, pulls away] Mike, I'm not ready for….

Me: Thou Protesteth too much. [Still trying to unhook bra]

Missy: [Unsettled] Sorry?!

Me: Thou shalt let me taste the warm wine of your heart with nary a protest I said.

Missy: Please take me home [about to cry]

Me: Okay.

Missy: Okay.

Lil Jon: Okhayyyyyyy!

After that, a lot of things changed. A couple of months later, she dated and went steady with this jock and I was vehemently shoved into the friend zone where, for a long time I would play the commiserating best friend who listens to her talk about her love problems over the telephone while I silently sob and masturbate on the other end of the line.

We went our separate ways after college: She, leaving for Australia to work for her aunt and I, becoming a successful junior executive/Marketing consultant/Rising Internet Star/Unhaver of consensual sex/Rapist.

Anyway, I'm usually hesitant to go out and have drinks with a girl straight from work. This is mainly because I'm a fat guy who sits in a hot, small workstation for 9 hours and because I sweat easily, I usually end up smelling unpleasant come the time I get off work. Plus, the aforementioned sweatiness was augmented exponentially today since being the pretentious douche/fashion victim that I am, I decided to go to work wearing a ratty wool sweater which I wore over a thick, cotton shirt. Why? Because, asshole, I am a 90's kid and I am a big fan or Rivers Como and Weezer. Don't ask.

Also, I was really spent after a day's worth of hard work but decided to see her nonetheless if only for old time's sake (and of course because she's eligible prey and because I'm an alcoholic who'll never pass up on free drinks).

So I drove over to Metrowalk and was surprised to find that Missy in fact wasn't alone. She has been chilling with Cristine, another one of our college friends since 5 in the afternoon. I walked up to their table and sat down, the beers being nothing less than soothing after a rough day. However, the bar we stayed in was motherfucking hot and I, wool sweater and all, continued to sweat like a bitch.

Despite my profuse sweating, things were going pretty well. I was checking out Missy and found her to be really attractive. I learned that she is playing guitar for a band in Sydney and she was wearing a simple baby tee, distressed jeans and a pair of pink Chuck Taylors which I find absolutely adorable. (Again, I don't know what it is about me and Chicks who can play the guitar and wear chuck taylors but let me just say for the record that I find them to be absolute turn ons and if any chicks are reading this and you're into this shit, please drop me a line so I can date the fuck out of you) Things were going well– Missy and I were flirting, chatting, boozing, more chatting. We spent a good three hours shooting crap and around 10pm, the crowd in the bar started to thin out. Missy stayed but so did Cristine who I'm totally not attracted to.

A couple of minutes more passed, more beers were served and Missy and Cristine both had a good buzz going on. Then Cristine told us that she had to go which accounted for a few awkward seconds where each of us were thinking something different and trying to read each other's body language, and what each other was thinking:

Cristine: “Missy looks like she's about ready to make out with Mike and no matter how hard I don't want that to happen, I have to go home. Oh well, I guess Missy knows what she's getting herself into, I mean she did make out with him once. Although I'm kinda worried because Mike's sweating really bad right now and I don't think any girl could endure the way he smells when he sweats like that.”

Missy: “I am so fucking drunk”

Mike: “I am so horny right now I'm willing to suck the security guard's bird. Cristine, what are you still doing here? Get the fuck out before I punch you in the throat. God, I'm so horny, anybody here with a piece of warm ham I could stick my penis in? Fuck, I'm really horny”

So Cristine left before Missy and and a couple of minutes later, Missy said she's just going to finish her glass and head on back to her hotel room in Discovery Suites which is like only two blocks away from where we're drinking.

I found the perfect opportunity to pounce. It was definitely on at this point, Missy and I are both fucking drunk and have been flirting for most of the night. So I moved in for the kill and tried to kiss her.

[Insert sound of broken record, needle scratching here]

Bad idea.

As I moved in (slowly, if I might add), Missy pulled away and said something that would, for a long time, be responsible for my steeply declining self esteem and be the cause of my severe depression.

“I'm Engaged” Missy said showing me her ring finger.

I am not going to even try and dignify this with an account of how I felt. Let's just say that I am going to spend the rest of my night listening to Boyz II Men and crying in the shower. I mean, Good lord. Wow.

–

Remember that Thrash metal band I told you about a couple of months ago? Well I'm proud to say that it is now starting to take shape. We have a gig a month from now at a local bar and we have been practicing really hard (10 hours a week)

So you know, stop listening to Hale, Cueshe, Callalily and whatever faggot band you're listening to right now and start listening Thrash Metal. If you don't know anything about Thrash Metal, you can start by downloading a few Metallica, Anthrax or Megadeth songs and E-mailing me requesting for a ticket to our gig. That is all.

 

What a fucking faggot I am. Playing Thrash Metal and doing the patented funky Brandon Boyd microphone grip at the same time

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In this shot we were playing Master of Puppets, arguably the heaviest Metallica song there is and the best expression I could come up with is one where I look like I want to suck my bassist's bird.