Book #1 Pauley's Retarded Children
Written By L.G. Flores
Chapter 3
"Apple Fritters & Sugar Twists"
(Play Video For Soundtrack While You Read)
The Hendersons Bathroom Make-over
Burbank, California
9:23 p.m.
He’s got a bit of a high going though he has to wait. John was right when he seen Michael about to reply. “You’re not going to text her back right now are you?
“She wished me a good morning; I want to wish her one back.”
“Mikey wait ‘til lunch time. If you text her back now, you’ll get in to a convo, and that’s where you tend to drop the ball.”
Michael groans. If John wasn’t right he would debate this, because he does know that’s where he tends to drop the ball. But the high was there and asks his friend:
“Lunch time?”
“Lunch time.”
He has to wait. He knows the basic things to say and he could say them, but for some reason his brain flips him off and he opts not to.
The shit he has said that got him dropped like the ball he had in his court…. Ah, there’s some psychology all up in there.
Well he has gone pendejo tough, which tough he is, but was a pendejo about it. He added “mack daddy” to it that is a laughable, corny approach of bullshit confidence that has to be fake to perhaps be forgivable and joke about it after; or if it’s the real deal like it is with many dudes *facepalm* Ay pobresitos esos gueys! (Oh poor are those little morons!)
Actually take that back.
Sometimes actin’ the foo with attitude of macho and a pimp, works for some guys, especially if they’s got's these two attributes, make it three in some extremely vain situations. These are:
1. Easy on the eyes.
2. Are “Big”.
3. Still have their hair.
Sometimes it goes up to four, or five, then six, and then so on until homegirl is satisfied. These are:
4. Are muscular.
5. Have bank.
6. Don’t have kids and “babymamas” to contend with; so the focus can be on them there ladies.
Now this is sad because females sometimes are shameless with their desired beau’s. But if the Barbie she be, it’s not like the dudes aren’t getting something out of it before the lease is up and they upgrade to the latest model whose boob job doesn’t need a “touch up” for many years to come. Now as it applies to Mikey, give me a min on that for a second.
Another memorable FAIL was when his usual funny comedian attribute, bombed. He tried puns and was thinking he and the gal, she knew him long enough for talking a little while, that adding a little bit of sexual undertones wouldn’t get him a verbal slap across the face if not a real one; he had a drink thrown in his face by a chick that was drunker than he. Those are always fun types to offend. It’s even more fun when it’s recorded. That video made the rounds needless to say *smiles*
(Play Video For Soundtrack While You Read)
What you would think would give him play was when he was the nice, sweet guy. He was cool too, BUT!!! He started showing insecurity the more it got in his head that the gal thought he’s not aggressive enough to show he’s interested because he was being “too nice” not to finish last.
So, right as she’s considering her options the natural, unpressured way; he fucks up and becomes a bit overbearing and there is a stark contrast from when he was nice, sweet, cool AND cute, to being a complete ass.
Then there was the online dating where he hooked up with whack jobs. Yeah they were cute betties and conversation charming enough to go out on dates, but they had something too wrong with them, that it takes his friends to bust him out of those relationships he gets sucked in to. One of these wacky dames trumped ‘em all as “Queen Psycho Bitch from Hell!!!” and the sad thing is that Michael missed her and actually cried about it.
The other two post divorce girlfriends that were cool, though insecure in their own ways also, another side of Michael showed and these chicks had valid reasons to break up with him. He was upset about these break-ups as well.
Him crying about them is one thing, but the psycho bitch queen was that one relationship where she cut his balls off and kept them in her purse he would hold like a good little trained boyfriend/future hen pecked husband; when she was getting plastered with her friends as he babysits and he also was the DD and paid for everything all the time. That was when he wasn’t drunk so he can stand her all over again. He was whipped simply put.
She was a chick with entitlement issues that didn’t appreciate a guy got in to her enough to take her shit because that is bullshit. Mikey is a fun, cool dude when he doesn’t think too much about it, but he does need help. At least she was a learning lesson in being more careful. So what was the appeal to me?
Michael just hasn’t been lucky in love with more misses than hits, kinda makes sense why he’s wanted to be “Going Out In Style” the more he lets things slip. Here’s the deal with Michael:
He’s a late 30something, divorced single dad that isn’t raising his child and only sees her every other weekend, a couple of weeks in summer, shared holidays including Father’s Day and his birthday or at his party at least on the weekend, though he rather hold her on his birthday.
He didn’t get to this last B-Day. Father’s Day he didn’t get to either, she was hugging her maternal grandfather instead. That man hugs her more than his own father does. He’s the weekend dad and on top of that, it’s another man raisin’ his daughter for his ex-wife did move on.
Even though it’s coming up on four years since the divorce was final, it still isn’t final in his head. Something carried over. It’s known, but it doesn’t get spoken about. When it starts to show, someone will be a cool pal and hand him a cold one.
(Play Video For Soundtrack While You Read)
He makes an honest living, and has money in his savings, plus there is his pension. He’s even sold furniture he makes being he’s a carpenter by trade.
He’s comfortable as a roommate, otherwise affording a place on his own, even with his salary; it’s about location and amount of space he gets. He wouldn’t have his vegetable garden if he tried to live in the Greater L.A. Area, alone, besides it does him good to live with roommates that are family to him.
Some chicks would hold him not living alone, against him. Depending on how one looks at it, some chicks would think “At least he doesn’t live with his parents.” That was almost him soon after him and his ex-wife broke up.
It takes him having to be buzzing to go up to a gal, to chat her up because he’s gun shy. He knows they are human like him, but thing with him is that he’s down on his self-esteem because his ex-wife hooked up with a guy that was younger, and thinner that was better looking in his and sadly in hers as well, opinion.
Mikey doesn’t think he’s “ugly”, he considers himself a decent looking bloke, but that guy his ex girl is now with, he was down on his self-esteem and has a slight distorted view if he’s depressed, drinking and over thinking. If he kicked back with the beer and worked out a little more, he tells himself he’d look more than decent; but key word is “if”.
Also being hard up doesn’t help when he tries to impress enough to give him hope he’ll have sex again. It’s been six months since he last got to shoot a load with a chick that wasn’t the one he’s wanking off to, online.
What feels different is, so far I am still interested in speaking with him. He liked the witty banter; more so getting to think back on his Devil Dog days, it relaxed him. “Military Brat”, I got away with calling him that.
Even with my eyewear, I was easy on the eyes and looked cute under his scally. And then there was what came off as a free pass whether it was indented to or not. I liked Dropkick Murphys.
I looked like I can handle horsing around. I’m a Latina that is single that went to the “Out Front To Smoke (though I didn’t smoke) Spot” with him. I stopped when he called out my name. I gave him my number. I said yes to a coffee date.
{Wait until lunch time.}
(Play Video For Soundtrack While You Read)
The Lighthouse/My Apartment
(Sleep Palace On The 2nd Floor)
Boyle Heights, Califas
11:43 a.m.
(Twitter patting birdies alert a text has arrived.)
1 New Message:
“Well thank you for the sweet greeting. Good afternoon to you. How has your day been so far?”
He responded! He responded and wished me a “Good afternoon to you.” He responded and wished me a “Good afternoon to you.” and he’s interested in how my day is going! Brain Malfunction Countdown commences.
11:46 a.m.
Reply:
“Glad you liked it and good afternoon to you as well. It’s be goin’. Yours?” (send)
That’s concise right?
I made three statements and asked a question within the limit of 15 words, and added flair even if modest. Yeah, I’m rolling with it.
(Little Birdies Say…?)
11: 48 a.m.
1 New Message:
“Outside in the fresh LA air, I can’t complain. So what’s so cool about this doughnut shop I’m meeting you at?”
He made a funny! Think McFly! What makes this fried dough joint cool considering I like the pan dulce (Latino sweet rolls that vary like doughnuts) better from La Central Bakery, down the street?
Obviously I can’t tell him because I don’t live anywhere near there, but I know the area, so if I need to lose him, I can. There isn't the Mexican hot chocolate to dip the pan dulce in sold there, and warm milk on a warm day; yeah, no. I'll need the caffeine to be talkative and alert.
He already seemed nervous about driving down to East Los, but he’s doing it. If I'm upbeat and relaxed, then that may relax him so he can be upbeat. Will this be a “Fools Rush In” replay, or can this just be a goofy start to a quirky friendship?
I vote the latter.
11:51 a.m.
Reply:
“It’s got stories to tell and I’ll be in the mood for a fried apple fritter. Though a sugar twist, hmmm? There’s also some cool hang out points around that are walking distance. I figure I could be your ‘Gina from ELA’ tour guide and ghetto pass so you may live dangerously Scotsman!” (send)
Okies that wasn’t as concise. I’d like the “Scotsman” to be a running gag and a fried apple fritter does sound good and the sugar twist too. I’m being upfront that he’s the other white meat coming to the hood. I make it seem so horrible don’t I? (Insert sinister laughter).
(Los Pajaritos que me dicen?/The Little Birds, what do they tell me?)
11:52
1 New Message:
“Will I get shot at if I wear my William Wallace colors?”
11:54
Reply:
“That’s blue right? If it is, that’s, wait; or is it? I forget whose colors are whose. I’d say wear the rainbow, but for sure you’ll get shot at. Wearing a kilt might get you hit on be the old veteranos that have done time. The way you were dressed last night is fine, you may actually blend in.” (send)
(Chirp. Chirp, cheeeeeerp….)
11:55pm
1 New Message:
“I got to go, lunch break over. Blend in really?”
11:56 a.m.
Reply:
“To be continued. And yes really.” (send)
Michael didn’t expect that one, but then again he’s never met Aryan Youth Rejects that would say he is “less white” because his hair and eyes are brown. I know in some circles I was the acceptable beaner because I’m fair skinned and was able to cover my local dialect, when I would be “well spoken”.
But my hair and eye color, besides nose shape; do show I am not Aryan and that my children, though “mutts” because I’m a “Heinz 57 a little bit of this and little bit of that”, they came out looking “white” with “white last names”.
They won’t be considered “colored” like me when I experienced my first real racist experience up northeast in a suburb of Maryland. Even for being Vampire pale, I was too dark and ‘Hispanic’ for that old ‘white’/Caucasian woman that did single me out.
It does get to me that my exes I procreated with loved I was a Latina because they still caught my generation or kind, that took interest in cooking and learning how to prepare the authentic dishes that can take hours to be finessed.
I was raised in a bit of a homemaker environment and I was maternal. But when it was over, they despised our children’s Latino sides, and yet I keep checking out “whiteboys”. Michael looks to be a “Snow White” with light skin and dark hair. He’s an ‘in between’ like me.
If he gets a tan, he can pass for Latino for sure, but even without it, he looks like a guero which is a term of endearment when you are in favor and Latino with light skin, more so with light hair and eyes; and exclusion when you are seen as the “honky” that got lost.
If he wore a mustache, he'd pass for Latino more so. If he lightened his hair and wore light colored contact lenses, his facial features most definitely show he is of European ancestry with no mixed indigenous roots of all the little “Injuns.”
(Play Video For Soundtrack While You Read)
I wonder how many of you white dudes with brown hair and eyes, have ever considered how you are not “True White” because you aren’t all pale, blond and blue eyed though Hitler obviously didn’t fit the mold and he was off on what Aryan is.
Keeping characteristics and coloring a certain way has been a thing for many separatists that claim “White is Right”. Other cultures do it too and “mixed” babies can live very hard lives.
My exes personally are denying my children learning the language of their Latino heritage, as well as the flavors in cooking and sounds of “Nuestra Cultura” (Our Culture). On a job application, being bilingual in English and Spanish is a bonus that could be profitable in the long term. Fuck their dads’ damn spite.
But the experience they deny my children that makes me see how vengeful and short sighted they actually are, is understanding what it means to be 2nd generation American on my side and what it means as they are the grandchildren of Mexican immigrants.
Two generations back, their blood stood down south of the border. They won’t know how before the gene pool diversified again, they had ancestors that were short with medium dark reddish brown skin, straight black hair that looked blue under the sun and were most definitely NOT European with their facial characteristics.
They won’t know about how there is an inner conflict some American Latinos feel because of the Mexican American War, and places like the Alamo. They need to learn how this country is based on mixed loyalties.
Every layer of the American Story, has a tale to tell about assimilation that went far back as the continent Europe with one clan fighting another or an entire nation moving in for an empirical hostile takeover and breeding out when genocide and slavery alone wasn’t enough. This happened in other areas of the planet also, so it's not limited to Europe. That's rather scary to know.
My exes I did “Fools Rush In” with, they don’t even celebrate their own heritage. I’m pretty sure I could learn more about their European heritages that are not Latin language based, in one day for both, than what they would both make the time to learn about, in their lifetimes. So this means I’ll have to give my kids both their “Gina From East LA Tour”. Fuck that! My kids will get their “Mom’s Tour of Life”. Whatever, mixed bag of baby batter tricks ‘tis this be.
“Seen you smiling there texting. You’re buzzing aren’t you?”
“John, don’t go there.”
Michael can’t help say with a little smile.
“Naw, I see that twinkle that is going to get you to fuck up if you don’t reel it back. I’m telling you for your own good man.”
“I was just smiling! I can’t fucking smile!?! Are you the Smile Swat Guard or something?”
“Swat Guard? It’s TEAM dumbass!”
“Whatever, you understood me!”
“And that’s what I have been doing. You start to smile all huge like you were during our break, you’re going to fill your head with expectations and you’ll psych yourself out like last time.”
“Yeah, I fucked up with that one, she was a hottie. But the way she chewed her food, like barely nibbling and saying she was full after 3 bites.”
“Oh those are the ones to watch out for dude.”
“I know. They start off thin from hardly eating, hook up; then let themselves go.”
“Not like us, huh Mikey?”
“Oh totally not us.”
(Play Video For Soundtrack While You Read)
They can have a sense of humor about being in shape. Round is a shape, but that is bullshit about only liking them when they’re thin, and acting like no enabling happened once the guy made a girl a sucker in more ways than one if he’s caught himself a good one. There tends to be more to the story when it comes to a chick “letting herself go.”
Dipshits consider this. Some gals will starve themselves to stay thin, to the point of nose candy, smokes, laxatives, liquid only diet, diet drinks, “low cal” this and “low cal” that when not “non fat this” and “fat in there, where?”
Then there is “scarf and barf”.
This is where a chick can’t take it anymore and her appetite shows she’s been hungry, so she pigs out, and then feels like she looks like one, and bulimia shouldn’t be a whatever thing with enough guys to be too many.
Women, and girls you would hope would be spared, but this behavior has been rewarded since grade school, more often than not, are harming their bodies to remain thin and desirable to more men, as they look to fit the mold of “perfect” every bite they don’t eat.
Yeah some guys like their gals to have some meat on their bones and know how to chow down, but too many females, and men go through this too. Starving to stay thin is not something to encourage for those guys that don’t like their chicks thick.
Most couples gain the pounds from staying in and cooking to watch a movie at home, cuddling. Or there are all these places to go see and decadent food to try. If they were burning calories together as much as consuming them, I would dare to guess there will be less chicks with an “I’m fat” complex after her future ex gets caught checking out the skinny girls, or worse yet, flirting with them.
It can still get worse but prevention by working out together, something to consider dudes before y’all go mindfucking another one in to therapy by dumping them over getting fluffy, because her beauty as a person and personality all go in to question of being worthwhile enough for any new guy to look their way.
The way they see it, their looks made someone not love them anymore. That just shows it wasn’t love that was felt in the first place.
(Play Video For Soundtrack While You Read)
Sorry, couldn’t help but get on the soapbox there. I’m speaking from experience and how much of a mindfuck it is to get dumped or kept a dirty secret, because of my weight. And I seen how when I get thin again, I’m told I look great. I wasn’t asked how I’m losing the weight, like checking if I’m being healthy and wise about it without any gimmicks.
Nope, I’m just told, “You look great! We so got to take you shopping to buy cute clothes for the new you!” Chicks enable each other too, but a true friend or a rational one at least, will raise the bullshit flag so the problem can be addressed, not ignored with a cold one passed to drink the concerns away. Did y’all know alcohol has a lot of calories?
The issue with the guys dumping a “fatass”; women need to decide how much power are they going to give guys that are shallow, to hurt them with. If one dipshit’s opinion is all that matters, then that’s all that will until something gives, and women are either forced to take care of business on their own, or through a feeding tube.
And eventually that guy is going to look like he could use a dip in the Fountain of Youth himself, but do John and Michael really feel the double standard is acceptable?
You sabes! The one where they could be a bit, or more, tubby in their big boy pants, with a bit of muffin top action and a double chin; but the girlies have to stay trim and primp to always look good?
Well not maliciously.
Honest is honest, even if they aren’t ‘Kens’ themselves, the gal that is thin with curves in all the “right” places, is interesting. She doesn’t have to say anything, just sit there, stand there, bend over there, just be there and look pretty. And if she’s an air head, the guys don’t have to try to show they are interesting.
Them saying “It’s a nice day out.” Is like philosophy being profound and mind blowing that a day is nice out when "...we are like within the day in question and stuff, as it already was decided that nice it like was, so it like shall be, predetermined by our destinies . The air head was enthralled. The guys are less chumps in which case they better hope they last more than 3 pumps or even the airhead would get smart and move on.
Maybe an apple fritter or a sugar twist isn’t the best idea. Actually I think I’ll have another cup of diet green tea.
Back at The Hendersons from Burbank
1:16 p.m.
“…Yeah it was this huge spread and man was I stuffed.”
“That good?”
“Sinfully.”
“What’s the name of this place again?”
“Famous Dave’s in Long Beach.”
“I’ll have to check it out. That’s not a dinner date kind of place is it?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Well I mean, that’s a lot of meat and not exactly neatest food to eat. With all the time the girl puts in looking nice, she’d be covered in barbeque sauce.”
“Damn you still think like you’re married.”
“Oh you went there!”
“You are so broken in, why you are single still is beyond me.”
“Now you’re confusing me.”
(Play Video For Soundtrack While You Read)
“Mikey! You give a fuck about shit like you still had a girlfriend to answer to, and me saying girlfriend is loosely. YOU’RE NOT MARRIED ANYMORE!!!”
“Dude. (pause) I know I’m a fuck up, but I had to go somewhere with them first in order to fuck it up. You got to give me some credit still knowing how to treat a woman.”
“EXACTLY! You got a lot going for you, but you second guess yourself when you know this shit already. She’s not Rachel. None of them are. It seems to me my friend that you still have some moving on to do.”
Michael is silent, refocused on his work though it is right there glaring and staring right back at him in reverse, his buddy just told him what he knows to be truth already. He misses his family. He misses his previous home. He misses holidays at home. He says nothing, just refocused on work and John is thinking to himself that he should have reeled it back a bit as well.
“Hey Mikey I didn’t mean anything by it.”
He struck a nerve, remaining quiet and calm is a better option, he is aware of this, but John struck a nerve. Well whatever buzz he was feeling, got killed and it took him a good hour to distract himself from the truth, to reassure John, they are still cool.
The Lighthouse/My Apartment
Boyle Heights, Califas
12:09 p.m.
I had energy and continued cleaning up my place. I was in the zone, just moving or gliding to be cooler about it, from one point bouncing smoothly against angles and stopping to drink cold ice water, didn’t make it feel like I was doing chores. I was playing organizing. I like that game when I’m back on the productive end. I see I miss that game after I get out of my funks, and feel less tension because I know where things are.
I know how they fit and at a glance I can tell if something needs to be restocked. It’s not just OCD at its best when it is practical benefit of flow and balance. Ah, a sense of harmony from no surprises or headaches looking for something not found until I’m not looking for it. I know where my shit is. I actually know what all my shit is, and I have down sized.
No more real collections after the ex-hubs “donated” my Batman Animated collection that included the 200th Edition of Batman as an action figure, with him as Batman Beyond. Still in the fucking package! Everything all gone from being sent to fucking Goodwill that doesn’t donate shit to charity! He wouldn’t even keep it for our son.
I’ve been reluctant to start a collection of anything considering I am limited on space and already have to get creative with storage. Actually, having a dolled up kitchen has been my thing, and displaying what I do have left in fashion accessories, out where they are pops of color against the cream walls.
It is the case now that I think about it. I live in my walk in closet that has a jon and tub with sink, and a galley style kitchen where red and white still are the predominant colors with a vintage feel of the 1940’s. I’d like to add more color to my kitchen, most def add whimsy and I trailed off.
(Play Video For Soundtrack While You Read)
I’ve been reflecting on the whole coffee date ritual. It is an iconic ritual of dating sportsmanship, or am I giving it more importance that it isn’t the non committal beginning of interviewing personality and values, that’s if it even matters?
I know, over thinking at how I’ve been doubling back and feel like I’m down one short. Has it really been just before I eloped like a heartbroken and confused dumbass, in 2005 since I went out on a coffee date with a guy I would have tried out bringing his hot cup of coffee to his bedside, mixed just how he likes it?
Why didn’t we end up together?
The attraction was there and he was from back east and in the military. He enjoyed drinking stouts and IPA’s. He read more than he would watch TV. He had nice ink and he kept fit and ate healthy the majority of the time. Oh I remember; I was in Drama Queen Mode and this over that over tanned, cheesy as fuck politician that got lucky meeting me; asshole.
Y’know remembering Clinton, reminds me of William and Leon. Then there was Aric…. C.J. Fucking C.J. why was I even putting myself out there like that?
Damn war makes the heart grow fonder, fucking aye.
This guy I’ll be open to get to know and check out if he’s friend material. That may seem like a friend zone exile, but I know I’d like my next relationship to be with a guy I was actually friends with. Like, I didn’t have to put out early on to keep his interest.
Actually what I would like is for him or any other guy, to not think it could be a “friends with bennies” potential with me. But I wanting to try out the goods would fuck me up if emotionally and mentally I’m stimulated, but physically we just didn’t get in to each others’ groove. Why am I thinking ahead to sex?
Why am I thinking ahead and having it figured out and squared away with the back up plans?
It’s just fucking coffee with a guy I haven’t seen under daylight or interacted with him not having been drinking! What if he’s only charming when he feels toasty?
I know some folks need a bit of liquid courage to get the temporary gift of gab. He wasn’t slurring his words, he was a bit too touchy feely for me not to have noticed, but I let him get away with it. What does that say about me?
(Play Video For Soundtrack While You Read)
I shouldn’t have made a sexual innuendo with the whole sucking thing. Why did I make a sexual innuendo while flirting for the first time with a guy I met at a bar, tavern, whatever?
And I was sober!
I guess it’s obvious I’m a bit hard up myself. But I’m a good girl now. I have been good and remained a born again virgin, no longer giving it up to boredom or hounding. At least with Labor Day there was playfulness as our foreplay, and he slept over, but we both had different places to be, so crossing roads we were no more. That’s almost a year ago. How long in between the previous guys?
A guy would so hate being me. That brings up a good point. I should word my concern carefully.
How do I know…?
How would I know…?
Do I trust myself to know when, if, though hopefully more when *crossed fingers* that I’m ready to really get up close and personal?
If he’s in to me enough, he’s thought about it, I’m sure. I mean, you dudes have sex on your minds also when it’s not food, property, fun related, or are stressed with whatever, don’t you?
Considering how much and what kind of porn is available all around without having to go underground shops like in Bettie Page’s day; and how much sex there is in advertising during daytime and prime time hours. Forget MTV and VH1… Sex has saturated the mainstream and that reads like a complicated pun, though not really.
I know why I’m focusing on this. I’m hoping for the replay with what Labor Day was able to do for the brief time we interacted. I paid more attention to being around him in the flesh, listening to him speak his thoughts that were intelligent and he was simpatico, as a family friend has said after I was giddy and showed her and my mom his picture. Why did I show my mom and her friend a picture of a guy I’ve been chatting with; I mean what had me giddy?
He was the hope for a change of focus, the replacement, the pacification to a lonesome heart that still cries at times and he was an ‘in between’ Latino like me. He was a Snow White, but his eyes were hazel. Hazel eyes and mine don’t last long I’ve noticed. The attraction is there, but not meant to be it would seem.
(Play Video For Soundtrack While You Read)
It was nice to get a break, I didn’t mind the past happened how it did, when Kreacher (that’s Labor Day’s other alias) was winning me over and making me slightly timid, and then I came on strong.
Honestly I didn’t come on strong as much as I put him on the spot when I asked him if us not using a condom, that is very personal, and then him not pulling out, meant anything; like I’m special when in reality I’m thinking how stupid I was for allowing that to happen, and so soon after meeting.
I was lucky I had my Mirena in place and my annual physical checkup with labs and Pap smear appointments where a couple of weeks after he disappeared. I didn’t know some STD’s a swab needs to be done to detect them. The blood work doesn’t screen for them all. I didn’t pop on either STD checks or pregnancy test. He was another learning lesson I am not as familiar as I would like to be with the whole dating territory.
Will he think I still look okay under daylight?
Will seeing my neck of the woods turn him off?
If this coffee date is to establish a friendship, then what should my looks or where I live matter?
I’m the one thinking he’d be a friend. Just because a guy is friendly, doesn’t make him my friend. Starting off and looking at it for what it is, an acquaintanceship doesn’t mean he’d be my bosom buddy after a few hang outs and phone calls. I’d like to try for friendship; I really liked looking at how expressive his eyes are. He’d most likely shave before we meet up… FOCUS!
F-r-i-e-n-d-s-h-i-p….
I closed my eyes and pictured his cheek and lips, and his face feeling smooth and soft. I did like his cologne. I’m now picturing his neck. Is this being smitten?
Michael’s job site, end of the day.
3:06 p.m.
“You headed over to Pauley’s later or calling the girl from last night?”
“I dunno.”
“Well if you call her, remember what you liked about her and that she gave you her number because there was something she liked about you. So relax, but be realistic. If she ain’t it, she ain’t it. And if you fumble, don’t start rambling. You start rambling when you start letting a girl get you nervous.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
John takes his own tool belt off and slings it over his shoulder. He has his cooler in one hand, and a jug of water that is ¾ of the way empty, in his other, since he does keep himself hydrated. He’ll start to dehydrate later from pissing out all the beer he’ll be drinking over at that funny named place that I’ll have to ask Michael what that is all about.
Michael gathers his things and loads up in to his truck. He lights a Camel and turns on the A/C to cool the cab down, first waiting for the hot air to pass as he has his driver side window open. He takes out his phone and places it on the dashboard and taps it to spin. He taps it again so it would spin some more.
“…she gave you her number because there was something she liked about you.”
Michael focuses on that.
(Play Video For Soundtrack While You Read)
He thinks about how I could have given him a bunk number as my own, humoring him for the delayed let down; but I didn’t. I wasn’t drunk, but could chug beer. I liked Dropkick Murphys. I knew where in the Hell 29 Palms was and missed it. I was “confident”, he liked that. What I liked about him, he wonders.
He thinks back on as much as he could remember being said. It still stands out, that he may blend in, over in East L.A. He presses the button to raise the glass of his window and puts his phone in the cup holder he’ll later move because he’s hungry from not eating all his lunch during lunch break, so he could text with me.
He drives to the closest fast food joint which was Pollo Loco. That makes him wonder about what Dennis said this morning before he left to go to work. “Have you ever dated a Hispanic girl? ...if she likes you, maybe she’ll cook for you.”
He thinks to himself that would be nice. He’s heard the same thing with dating Latinas. “You’ll never be horny and hungry again.” Even he had to teach his ex wife Rachel how to cook. All except Amber, did not know how to cook, or if they did, if was “assembly cooking” following the directions on the box/bag and using the microwave a lot.
What Michael has heard is a generalization that is becoming less and less standard. Wanting to have a lot of sex and still getting down in the kitchen, while being exotic from the white chicks, that is a Suzy Homemaker at heart and makes her man feel like the King of HIS Castle; is no longer a Latina stereotype that holds true.
A lot of Americanized Latinas went to college up north of the border and became professionals, or at least make enough to afford all the food in take-out containers that they have stuffed in the fridge.
Unless they are Foodies, chances are the Latinas even in our age group, will not know how to cook in a manner that will bring a man back in to their kitchens, let alone get them to wash, dry and put away the dishes--gladly. Actually, even great cooks have hard times getting men to help with the clean up after.
They got book smarts, but no homemaker skills. The stereotype hasn’t completely faded away though, especially the more I see Latina chicks in the Kustom Kulture scene that want to play house with a vintage flair.
These are the chicks having a field day on Pintrest.com collecting recipes and instructions for “wow” dishes that look good in “Tablescapes” as Sandra Lee from “Semi-Homemade Cooking” coined the term for me. My sister Michele is one of these women that are volunteering to revert back to homemaker days more now that she has been dating long term.
I suppose it’s the luck of the draw like being attracted to someone that isn’t attracted or as attracted as you are to them, to you. I think that was the case with what’s his name. He was just being nice when he left his comment in my pictures gallery for a pouty shot, saying “Wow. Very nice, hot stuff.”
For all we had in common and me knowing how to cook Mexican from scratch. Y'know, if I had to get the tortilla press out, comal (griddle) and the molacajete (mortar and pestle), and this being the only cuisine he listed as liking, I would have fed that man to the point of him having to loosen his belt, and this before serving him dessert!
Heck, I would have made him tamales and they are a pain to make. It still didn’t earn me more coolness points to have the skills and love for the cuisine, I blew it before I could compose in the kitchen and serenade him through a meal. Why did I even give a fuck wanting to impress him with home cooking?
Oh yeah; he grew on me for all we had in common, I was attracted, he seemed safe but…. Michael is the one curious about whether I’d like him enough to cook for him and if my cooking is any good. Is he doing it again?
Doing what?
He’s realizing he is buzzing and that Olympic Donuts and fried apple fritters and sugar twists, do sound good, along with the walking tour. Blend in?
He’s stuck on that probably for the same reason I said it, he can pass for other than Caucasian. That thought is going to linger; but not so much he won’t be able to take his after work nap. He pretty much put the thought away after finishing his Pollo Loco meal.