The Wall Street Rock Star cannot believe a little fat woman has blown him off. I've heard from him three times today as he struggles to get his head around the fact that I won't go out with him.
All I said (or wrote since he's another one of those businessmen with a blackberry who texts like crazy) is that from a few things he said during a sexy text exchange the other morning, I concluded he was egocentric and unpleasant. Now he's trying to convince me he's a GOOD person.
I knew this would happen. I'm bored of the 38 year old horn dog and I haven't even met him. There's a fellow I haven't met yet who is also originally from Texas, but he has a ranch out by Bandera and goes back and forth all the time. He's some kind of PhD Engineer. Could be a possibility. Then there is a mysterious fellow who lives on a lake some miles west of the city. Cute, articulate. And the one I'm definitely going out with Sunday who seems very nice from the two telephone conversations we've had.
Velvet is having friends over tonight. I would say that I don't know how my place got to be the party house, but I'm pretty sure it's because I think anyone who has to register for the selective service should be allowed to drink beer. Not my beer, of course, but I can hear the cans being opened at this very moment. Then there's the fact that they hot box the bathroom once I've gone to sleep so I can maintain my stance of plausible deniability.
No vomiting allowed and absolutely no more forgetting drunk girls in the bathroom. Jeez.
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