Sunday, March 29, 2015

Just call it the world’s shittiest hangover

Not too long ago, in the grey drizzly city of Victoria, I was out for coffee on one of my famous “non-date” coffee dates with this guy I met ironically at another coffee shop. Yup it was one of those cute and adorable first encounters that happen while you are waiting for your Americano at the coffee bar, minding your own business when BAM! Smoking Hot Guy (SHG) is talking to you out of nowhere.

This is how it went down. I’m waiting for my Americano, browsing the TC (that stack of dead tree that passes for a newspaper in Victoria) and SHG walks over, leans on the coffee bar beside me and says:

“Those are some nice shoes, they are very telling of you.”

I respond “Yeah they are pretty kick ass, just like me.” And yes, I pointed both my thumbs at me simultaneously as I said “just like me.” And of course, I proceeded to make some totally awkward facial expression, which I would call flirtatious but others would definitely call more of a “do you have food poisoning?” look.

Anyways, my awkwardness didn’t seem to concern him, as he asked for my number so we could get together. And normally someone so aggressive with the dating protocol would turn me off but I remembered that I kind of needed more blogging material so I should at the very least interact with this human on one of my non-date coffee dates.

Now, it may seem odd to you, gentle reader, that I would agree to this creepy and totally invasive invite but you need to understand this sounded way less creepy than the time that way older married guy at work invited me over to his house so I could “see his unfinished basement”. Apparently asking someone to “see your unfinished basement” is another way of asking someone to have “kinky ass sex in your basement involving power tools.” I was shocked too. I thought I was being asked to be raped, tortured and murdered with power tools in the soundproof room in the unfinished basement.

Well, you learn something new every day.

Anyways, apparently I am not hip to this 70’s slang for hooking up and never did get to experience the kinky sex with power tools thing that married couples did all the time during the 70s because they didn’t have Netflix and they had to make their own fun.

So I exchanged numbers with the SHG and we agreed to meet for coffee at a later date.

A couple of months later, we finally meet up for coffee. 

He is already at the coffee shop, coffee in hand waiting for me when I walk right by him. Yeah, I hardly recognized SHG because apparently he has radioactive facial hair because he had sprouted a full beard since the last time I saw him. And yes, it took him several minutes to convince me he was the SHG I had agreed to have coffee with (I made him show me his driver’s license, which had a picture of him without a beard).

After I confirm that it is him, I still don’t sit down because I feel the need to interrogate him in an overly dramatic fashion (which I'm best known for). And the conversation went a little like this…

A: Seriously dude What’s with the beard?

SHG: “What? You don’t like this?”

A: No, obviously I don’t.

SHG: I think it is pretty stylish. (strokes his beard lovingly)

A: (scowling) No, not really.

SHG: I’m almost certain this look is in vogue right now. (smiles all authoritative and shit, leaning back in his chair, arms folded)

A:  I don’t know what fashion god you are pledging allegiance to but it looks to me like you get your fashion tips from magazines that run ads for “polish mail order grooms”.

SHG: That sounds cool.

A: I’m saying that non-ironically.

SHG: (Frowns) oh.

A: (points dramatically at his beard) what are you going for here with this beard of yours?!

SHG: (sits up straight all proud and shit) I’m going for that whole trans lumbersexual look.

And that’s when I realize this is the reason I lost the competition to J. I didn’t see any lumbersexuals on the first day of spring because they have mutated into this bullshit sitting down in front of me.

Naturally, I decide not to stay on account of him transforming into this degenerate mutation of a fashion trend for no good reason at all.

And no I was not a complete asshole as I didn’t tell him that I thought he was a degenerate mutation, although it was kind of apparent I thought he was a degenerate mutation from the conversation we just had. Anyways, I didn’t bother to make up an excuse as to why I was leaving, I just kind of walked out, not really saying anything. Honestly, I think I was in some kind of shock over the whole absurdity of this fashion trend situation.

And off I went never to see that ugly beard again. And not because I never saw SHG again, it was just the next time I saw him he had shaved off the beard (thankfully).

So in the end he saved himself; however, he could never save our potential theoretical relationship because he insisted on being a stupid douchebag hipster.

And Andrea lived happily ever after,
The End

No comments:

Post a Comment