Okay…so I may have a little problem with one of the “women in my life”…
Joyce is buying me stuff. (In case you missed who Joyce was, she’s the older woman who hit on me in the store and who made a fortune selling her bitcoins at exactly the right time.)
It started out around the time when she started letting me drive the Tesla. But, hey, it’s no big deal if a chick gives you a CD of her favorite music, right? (Even if it is by this Andrea Boceli opera dude and totally gay.) Then she gave me a book, “Do Seals have Eyelashes?”. It had all kinds of pictures and dumb short poems. (Gay again.) Honestly, I really don’t give a shit if seals have eyelashes. The book never answered the question anyway.
It’s not like she was giving me things every week, but the gifts kept coming. Next up was a bottle of Joe Malone cologne. Smells nice. Better than the fragrances we sell over at Banana Republic. That’s why I can’t wear it to work, but it’s good for when I go out. (No, cologne isn’t gay. It’s weird, but, from what a gay guy told me, gay guys think cologne is gayer than it really is.)
I’m still not seeing Joyce every week, although I did see her last week, and I did see her this week. Last week was kind of a surprise. She did check to see if I was going to be home at night, but she didn’t tell me she was on her way over with a big bag from Wingstop and six bottles of Stone IPA. (Yeah: she pays attention, although she got the proportion of Original Hot to Hawaiian wrong.)
No, we didn’t watch Netflix after. But, okay, yeah, she did put her fingers through my hair a little. (The hair on top. The sides are too short to put your fingers through lol.) Our left fielder, who takes dating way too seriously, is always talking about the “touch barrier” when he meets a chick for the first time. Thinking too much about the touch barrier is probably why he goes to strip clubs as much as he does.
But, yeah, so much for Dave and his touch barrier. It took her long enough. I didn’t mind. I could have made a move a long time ago, but, well, she’s older, and I wasn’t sure what to do. (I was expecting her to put her hand on my leg the first time she led me drive the Tesla. Maybe she was afraid I’d have an accident or something lol. There was nothing to worry about: I’ve driven plenty of cars with chick’s hands on my leg without wrapping the car around a stop sign. Not sure Dad would approve of that kind of driving, but it’s not like it makes me take my eyes off the road…)
I was raised to be a Southern Gentleman, so I’m not going to tell you everything that happened with Joyce that night. I’ll just say that her playing with my hair wasn’t the only thing that happened…and that a lot more happens when I’m over at Monica’s. I didn’t mind any of it (it wasn’t like getting pawed by gay dudes…ew!), and I liked having my eyes stared into and being told how blue they are. Okay, she said they looked like sapphires.
So, anyway, that was last week…and this week we had dinner at the same steakhouse I took Monica to on Valentine’s day. And I didn’t have to order an 8 oz. steak because I had to pay for a bottle of stupidass wine I didn’t want. Truth is, I almost had trouble finishing the steak I did order. (Please don’t think that I’m an illiterate redneck and order my steaks well done. Yeah, most folks back home like their meat “cooked”, including most of my family, but Papaw liked his steaks practically raw. It used to gross everyone else out. Except me. Papaw and me share a first name and our taste in meat.) After the steak and before the flourless chocolate cake (there’s a gay dessert if there ever was one!), Joyce took out a wrapped package and gave it to me.
“You know my birthday’s not until November, right?”
“Yes, I know. You’re an enigmatic Scorpio.”
I’ve gotten that before. I’ve always thought I was pretty straightforward, but if astrology says I’m mysterious, I guess I am.
I like a present as much as the next guy. Before I’d gotten the paper all the way off, I saw what was inside.
An iPhone X.