Nasty Little Thoughts

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Shortest relationship in history? (edited)

I met Jr. on AOL. He IM'd me out of the blue, we started chatting, then spoke on the phone, and ended up with him proclaiming, "We are sooo getting married!" by the end of our first phone call. With thing progressing fabulously, we made plans to meet and have dinner at the Cheesecake Factory.

After much discussion, rummaging through my wardrobe and finding my suede mini-skirt was ruined, Jr. invited to take me shopping for something suitable to wear, after all, we would be meeting up with his friends after dinner, and I needed to dress to impress. Bear in mind that Jr. runs in the society circle, attends the galas and such.

My geographically challenged self got him lost on the beltway on his way over, but he finally arrived and we headed to the mall and went straight to Palais Royal. I tried on clothes and modeled them for him and he finally chose a grey school girl style mini-skirt. But finding the top was more difficult. He couldn't understand why my DD sized chest wouldn't fit into medium sized items. I found a black suede top and explained I was trying on the large to accommodate my chest. "I never really liked large breasts," he tells me.

"Really? Well, I've never gotten any complaints." I responded. I never in my life expected to have someone complain that my boobs were too large. But bigger problems lay ahead as we headed to the shoe department.

Jr. wanted me to wear sandals. I don't like sandals and explained my belief that I shouldn't have to look at people's toes and they shouldn't have to look at mine. "Why? What's wrong with your feet?" he asked.

"Nothing is wrong with my feet. I just don't like sandals. But this skirt would look really nice with a pair of black boots."

He handed me a pair of sandals, "Try these on."

I put them on and they felt weird and looked even wierder. "But I've always wanted a pair of black boots," I told him as I looked longingly at the boots on display.

"But I'm buying," was his final word and we left Palais with a pair of sandals I didn't like and knew I wouldn't wear.

The next night was our dinner date. We window shopped at the Galleria while waiting for our table. I mentioned that I wanted to my spiral perm my hair and dye it blonde as a testament to the new life I was making for myself after losing massive weight thanks to becoming a Metabolife junkie. Jr. looked at me and said, "Lose 20 more pounds and I'll pay to have your hair done."

His generosity didn't include much dinner though, as he stated we could share a plate since the servings were so large. I hadn't been to the Cheesecake Factory before, so I took his word for it. Turns out he lied. Were we saving room for the famous cheesecake? No. Jr. was either just a cheap bastard or he'd decided to help me lose the 20 lbs. by depriving me of food. We left the restaurant and I was still hungry. A few thai noodles and 3 shrimp don't take you very far.

We met his friends at a Mexican restaurant for drinks. I had 2 margaritas, but was eyeing the food of all those around us. I sat there like a fifth wheel, listening to everyone else talk about their shared interests and tell stories. It would be like finding yourself at Central Perk trying to converse with the Friends. Nice enough people, but the group wasn't exactly welcoming me into the fray.

When we left, we stood outside as the friendly banter continued for 20 more minutes or so when one of his friends looked at me and said, "She looks cold." I don't know why they would think so , I was wearing a mini-skirt and sandals in November! And I was shivering. Thankfully, Jr. took the hint and took me home.

That weekend he invited to spend the night at his house, the house he shared with his parents. He picked me up and didn't speak for the entire 45 minute trip. When we got there, his mom had made caldo ( a Mexican soup) for the family and noodles for Jr. I ate the caldo and was met with disapproving glares by Jr. He hadn't told his parents I was coming, so she wasn't prepared for company.

After dinner, we watched boxing on HBO. Quite the fight enthusiasts, his family gathered to watch Lennox Lewis beat the crap out of David Tua. Turns out the earlier matches were more exciting. The only thing remotely entertaining about the main event was watching Jr.'s family root for Tua.

I was bored beyond belief. I love sports and can get excited about most of them, but not boxing. When I told Jr. that I was so cold my feet were cramping (the family was wearing sweats and the heat was turned off) he said, "Well why didn't you wear something warm?"

After the fight, we went to bed where Jr. promptly started reciting the litany of all the women he's been with and why those relationships didn't work out. "I don't want to jump into something like I've sort of done with you."

"Are you saying you don't want to see me anymore?" I asked.

"No, I want us to see each other. With my friends." He turned away from me and went to sleep.

Next morning, instead of us going to the Renaissance Festival as per our original plans, he pulled out his school work from college. I watched TV for a while and then asked him, "Would you rather just take me home?"

He wasted no time getting me home and didn't even offer to feed me breakfast.

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