I thought I was just being a good friend. I thought I was being nice. That was how it started anyway. I don’t know how it will end; we haven’t glimpsed that just yet. All I can say at this point, which is perhaps all I can handle, is that I am a scoundrel, a back-stabber, a genuine son of a bitch (no offense, Mom). My heart hath abandoned mine own cherished principles. But that’s the thing about love…once you have it and you know it, you don’t give a shit about anything else.
My intentions were innocent enough. It was Joe’s birfday so I tried to think about what in my power could make him happiest. Since I’m not currently gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that), I had to think of something else. The answer, I thought, was to take him to see his girlfriend perform. As it turned out, she was going to be at
I’m sorry, Joe. I truly am. I can only pray that someday you will understand. I’d never be so bold as to hope for forgiveness. You see, old friend, Sarah and I shared a moment of private endearment while I was waiting to use the men’s room. There I was, alone in the long, dark back hall of the club, minding my own urinary pressure when the door to the women’s room opened. A girl (that’s all I knew her to be at the moment) began to come through the doorframe when she caught her green cargo pants on the handle of the door. I watched curiously as she stopped there in the doorframe to check her back pocket. Talking to herself, she was mumbling something like “What did I do?” She took another step out into the hall while still looking back and clumsily stumbled, almost falling to the floor. I hadn’t realized who she was or that she even knew I was there until she then looked up at me and embarrassingly smiled with the cute innocence of a child. It was Sarah. I replied with a smile and she scattered down the hall and back out into the chorus of chuckles in the restaurant. I would get my chance to pee shortly thereafter.
My reasons for loving Sarah can be best represented by a part of her show tonight. With the utmost sincerity, she professed her love for BabyBel Cheese. And then she spent the next three minutes expressing that love with a slow, grinding pelvic thrust as she pretended to fuck the delicious individually packaged cheese. As if I ever had a chance of not loving her.
I know how this makes me look. Fuck it, I know how this makes me, period…but, like I began to say at the start, if lovin’ this woman is wrong, I don’t wanna be right!
--Okay, I don’t really love her, but I had a great time and I do think she’s adorable. The bathroom thing really happened too. Happy Birfday, Buddy! (He got his picture taken with her, which I am sure he is posting at this very moment)
--How great is it to have Daylight Savings time back? Man, I walked out of work today, opened the sunroof and was just lovin’ life. There is something about the first few nights of Daylight Savings that make anything seem possible.
--You know what else is great? (Sorry if I am being too cheery) Finding a great fuckin’ song on an album you’ve had sitting around forever, but never fully explored. That happened to me tonight with Guster’s “Hang On” off of their “Ganging Up On The Sun” album. I think I’ve listened to it 9 times since then, including 3 straight on the way home. Also loving Ben Kweller’s “I Gotta Move,” but that was the song that compelled me to buy the album so that’s different. And The Shins’ “