Interesting night… there was this
Interesting night... there was this girl that kept buying me beer... then she would buy me shots... then she would buy shots for the two of us... she would sit with me and talk... buy shots... etc. She was very attractive and seemed to have a modicum of intelligence. At the end of the night, I offered my number... *not* because I had a burning desire to date her, but she seemed cool and I thought there could be some more fun times there... she abruptly stated the fact that she had a boyfriend and that she would never call me. I must not have understood what she meant for the several beers and shots she bought for me while giving me "those eyes". Women really piss me off sometimes. Here's another fucking cool thing about tonight: some guy offered me $400 for my shirt. Seriously... I like to dress different sometimes. I have this bad ass shirt that I have never seen a duplicate to in the 3 years I've owned it... it's bright red, silky, and has a martini glass embroidered into the collar. It has martini glasses inside each button down the front. I love that shirt. I have never seen another like it since I purchased it. Every where I've gone since I bought, I cannot seem to find one like it or the manufacturer. I like being that guy. Bon nuit!
ps. I didn't take the $400.
ps. I didn't take the $400.
Gordon Bennet, man. If I’d known that Texans leave $100 tips, buy drinks for people they don’t want to shag and buy shirts off strangers for hundreds, I’d have moved there rather than rainy old England… oh, well, at least the beer is good!
Through the satellites, I fight with you,
That local brew is spillin’,
I know just how you spend your time.
I want to get my hands on him,
Somebody’s party in a London flat,
You’re where it’s at and I know,
You want to see me loose my mind,
I’m tired of chasing after you The is jealous,
See me on the dark side of your mind,
I want to get my hands on him,
To a club that’s pounding in the London rain,
The world could end We wouldn’t hear it.
I know just what’s on your mind,
I see the way your face has changed,
We’re no good for each other,
You tricked me into coming here, So let go,
l don’t want to go to London,
I told you I don’t care,
I don’t want to go to London,
To live there,
I don’t want to go to London,
All your friends afflicted,
I don’t want to go to London.
She’s addicted, I saw you with him,
I know where you’ve been,
That nose is broken wide open,
Your way has got me out of line.
I want to get my hands on him. You’re so sick just to make me prove, It takes a fight to move you, I know just what’s on
your mind. It’s been this way a thousand years, We torture each other. So why the hell did you call me here, And you
know,
l don’t want to go to London,
I told you I don’t care,
I don’t want to go to London,
To live there,
I don’t want to go to London,
All your friends afflicted,
I don’t want to go to London.
She’s addicted.
l don’t want to go to London,
I told you I don’t care,
I don’t want to go to London,
‘Cause you’re not there.
Even when I see you, You’re somewhere else in London.
You say, “Women really piss me off sometimes.” I say, this assholian flirtation is not gender specific. Try the guy who’s married that does more than just flirt and never offers up any information of a significant other—even when you ask him if he’s married?! People are people. Some have no respect for the relationship they are in, much less the person that they are with…
I was half joking. Individuals make their own decisions. The girl was nice and I wasn’t referring to her having a boyfriend. I was referring to the response. I was thinking ‘cool girl… new friend’ and she automagically assumed that I was hitting on her and was short with me. I never once (through speech or action) gave her any indication that I was interested in her like that… so, the “Women really piss me off sometimes.” comment was directed at that… and, for the record, men really piss me off sometimes too… however, I don’t think that is relevant to this story.
just an ounce of clarification
Ah Mary - at least they do follow through (men) and you can be assured that it’s not to screw with someone’s head but because they just can’t help themselves. Not that women do screw with people’s heads - oh no, we’d never do that.
Clayton: Guinness poetry - you do know how to turn a girl’s head....
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