Speaking of Husbandry
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I'm out on this date with this guy the other night, and OK it wasn't so much a date but more of a one night pick-up from a bar, and OK I didn't really go to that bar to be "picked up" per se, and the only reason I met this guy was because I was driving by and my car just dies dead in front of the bar where he's working and I need someone to come help me push my car into a parking spot because right then it was kind of dead in the middle of the parking lot and so I walk up to this guy, and OK there were a lot of guys standing outside this particular bar, and yes I happened to pick the most handsome of all of them to come push my car, and OK I was wearing a really tight shirt and all of this seems very made up and it seems kind of slutish and a little unlike me to turn a broken down car into a pick-up oppotunity but I can assure it all happened just the way I'm telling it because I've been seeing things a lot differently lately, especially male-female relationships, and really you can't make this kind of shit up.
So the handsome man pushes my car into a parking spot and he says let's go into the club to look for someone who might have some jumper cables which seems like a logical thing to do so I go into the bar with him and he asks this bouncer-type looking guy if he has cables and the guy looks at my tits and says yes and then the handsome man tells me to follow the bouncer guy outside, so I do, and OK I know you're thinking there's something funny about my decision-making process and I'm the first to admit that I'm not really the best at decision-making lately, I mean, c'mon, that trip to Canada? I think that decision right there speaks for itself. But anyway I follow this guy out to his car and he pops open the trunk and, yes, he does have cables and then we walk over to my car and then the other guy, the handsome one, comes back out of the club and the two of them start talking about what could be wrong with my car and they go through this list as they talk: battery, alternator, starter, etc., and they discuss and throw out possibilities as they talk and finally they decide it must be the starter and so there's no use in trying to jump off my car if that's the case so we all decide we should just go in and listen to the band because this bouncer guy has to get back and take money and the handsome man has to work the lights.
So then I have a couple of Budweisers, which really doesn't help my decision-making process much and then I shoot a little pool with this Marine who just got back from Iraq and I listen to the band, which is kind of an older, hippie-type band, and I watch the crowd and have a good laugh because most of them are wearing khaki shorts and those NASCAR racing t-shirts, you know those kind of t-shirts with the big flames on them? Anyway these people are dancing around in their tennis shoes and most of them are wearing Nikes with those short little socks and most of them, OK I'm talking about the men here because mostly I don't pay much attention to women, anyway most of them look a little like my dad but I decide to talk to one of them and he starts in about George Bush and what do I think's going to happen in the election and why couldn't the Democrats have found a better person to run against him than Kerry and I say I don't know but it seems I lot of people like him are concerned these days.
Right about then is when the handsome man comes back into the picture and asks wouldn't I like to go get a six pack from the Shell station and head back to his place and talk and stuff, and I have to tell you, by this time, it really did seem like a good idea. So we're at his place, which turns out to be one of those nice luxury apartments, and not a deserted cabin in the woods after all, and we're talking and drinking more Buds and this is when things get a little strange, even for me. This guy hasn't made a single move on me: no kiss, no hug, no hand on the small of my back, nothing. And then he says, hey, would I like to see some wierd porno he downloaded from the Internet today and of course the first thing that pops into my head is no, which is what I say, but he gets kind of persistant and I relent and say alright, lay it on me, and the next thing I know I'm watching a German Shepard hump this blonde woman who bears a striking resemblance to the secretary down at "The Arts Center" where my daughter goes to summer camp.
I'm no prude or anything and I'm all for the argument about porn being good for relationships and all and I'm not so convinced that it's the downfall of civilization, but, c'mon, dog porno? I mean, I've been out of the dating scene for a while now, and technically this guy is only my fourth date since I broke up with you-know-who last year, but isn't that kind of a third or fourth date thing? I may be wrong here. But anyway I was going to let this go, so long as the porno went away quickly. But the unfortunate thing was that he wanted to "talk" about it after he showed it to me. I don't know why, but I'm always attracting these intellectual types for some reason. So I say you know it's not even real and this is when he decides to prove to me that it is indeed real and the next thing I know he's saying "look at this close up," which, again, to me is more of a third of fourth date thing and that's when I ask to borrow the phone.
So then I call this other guy that I've kind of been seeing, and yes I had picked him up in a bar just last week but that was different, and anyway I tell him about my car breaking down and me being trapped in this guy's apartment with the dog porno and he says he'll be there in fifteen minutes because he kind of has this thing about coming to my rescue because, actually, the night we met was the night my boyfriend had abandoned me in a parking lot outside of the bar because I wouldn't get into the car. But I gotta say that was totally the boyfriend's fault because you never, ever give me a double Tanqueray and tonic on an empty stomach and expect me to not be just a little beligerant.
So to make a long story short, the knight in shining armor shows up and he's brought a sword with him. I'm not kidding, an honest to God sword, and he pulls up and gets out of the car and tells me get in and he and this dog-porno guy are going to face off and then he says, "Leon?" and the other guy says, "Michael?" and the next thing I know these two are talking about the club on 9th Street they used to work and the one guy asks the other if he still does the MC thing and then they start talking about some show that's going on tomorrow night at this downtown bar they both know and supposedly there's going to be a trapeze artist hanging over the dance floor all night and, I don't know, it sounds kind of fun so I'm thinking, if I can find a date, I just might go.
What Karen Ashburner doesn't tell you is that she may have had jumper cables in her car the whole time... but then again, maybe she didn't.