LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Try something new today — you aren’t the only one! It’s a great time for exploration and investigation, and you are sure to run across something new that feels inexplicably familiar.
Met up with Lucy and Carl(a) for coffee this morning at Bean Around the World on Main. Carl(a)’d scheduled a business meeting beforehand and was still wrapping up when I got there. “Just order us another cappuccino,” Lucy said. “Almost done.”
Lucy handled her caffeine much better than me. Two cappuccinos? Last time I did that, I watched an episode of “Friends” that might as well have been dubbed in Farsi. Couldn’t make sense of anything they were saying. Lucy’s body is more accustomed to taking in a range of drugs: caffeine, nicotine, marijuana,…what else? We have our own Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy.
Not wanting to interrupt the meeting, I stalled by reading the community postings above the cream dispensers and the dirty spoon depository. Washing machine for sale. Lost cat—a coyote feast flashed to mind. Someone offering accordion lessons! That’s gotta be a lucrative business. No one had torn off one of the little phone number slips at the bottom of the flyer. Made me feel badly so I took one. Of course, then I worried that “Herschel” would get his hopes up, waiting by the phone to book a session with his (first?) accordion apprentice. No matter what, Herschel was gonna get hurt.
Lucy was calling me over. She’s got such a butch yell. Made everyone in the coffee shop turn. Yes, I’m Laura. Now you all know. I sat down with our drinks, Carl(a)’s business client giving me the eye. “Ken, this is my sister Laura. Laura, this is Ken. Carla’s doing a reno for his new real estate office on Dunbar.” Lucy gave me her own goofy look. That Do you want me to set you up? grin. Somehow she’d been out of the loop about my budding (and combusting) relationship with Gabriel.
“Hey!” Ken greeted. Way too eager. Down, boy! I politely shook his hand. “You’ve got a good grip. I like that.” Yeah. Good grip. That’s what every guy looks for. It’s what we women read up on and practice for that key moment when we want to lure in a prime cut of beef.
He just kept grinning. I'd seen that pathetic look too many times. Why was I a dweeb magnet?
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Excuse me.” I got up and grabbed a Georgia Straight to read while they wrapped up their discussion about plumbing needs. Lucy was as enraptured with Carla (yes, glad for some clarity—today, it’s Carla, not Carl), hanging on her every word, seemingly turned on by talk about toilets. I flipped randomly. Each time I looked up, Ken was ogling me. Creepy. A pretty good bet this guy hadn’t had a second date in the last year.
Carla mercifully wrapped things up with “I’ll look into a few options and give you a call tomorrow. Talk to you then, Ken.” Still, he lingered for a few seconds. I gave a tolerant smile—no teeth—and telepathed an urgent “Go now” message. He looked back and forth from Carla to me.
“Okay, then…well, then…tomorrow…great. Uh, nice to, uh, meet you, uh, Laura.”
“Yeah. Have a nice day.” That old “Saturday Night Live” skit with the flight attendants offering a flippant Bah-Bye Now flashed to mind. See Ken go. Run, Ken, run. He managed to back into the table behind him, likely taking a sizable bruise with him for the road. At last, he was gone.
Lucy had the gall to ask, “So what’d you think?”
“God, it’s clear you have no concept of what makes a man attractive.”
She shrugged. “He could lose a few pounds, but he’s nice. You two would make a cute couple.”
Carla added, “He says ‘excuse me’ after he belches.” Well, doesn’t that just about seal the deal?!
To shut them up, I had to pretend I was blissfully happy with Gabriel. Yes, indeed, Gabriel was broadening my interests! Star Trek, Ultimate Fighting, canoeing.
“I give it another month,” said Lucy.
Carla followed up: “Let me know when it’s done and then I’ll give Ken your number.”
“Not in a million years,” I warned, flashing my most threatening glare. Of course, there’s no scaring Lucy. By that twinkle in her eye, it was like my glare was a dare. Did she want me to be happy or was it her desire to make sure I was miserable? What happened to picking on Estelle?
WHAT DO WOMEN WANT?! YOU’D THINK I’D HAVE SOME NOTION BY NOW, BUT I’M AS CLUELESS @ 36 AS I WAS @ 12.
MET W/CARL(A) & HER PARTNER FOR A QUICK COFFEE THIS MORNING. HAD TO DROP OFF SOME SPECIFICATIONS AND GO OVER WHAT MARTY & I WANTED AS FAR AS BATHROOMS IN THE NEW OFFICE. WELL, CARLA’S PARTNER’S SISTER SHOWED UP. HELLO, LAURA! OBVIOUS SET UP. SHE WAS TOTALLY CHECKING ME OUT AS SHE PRETENDED TO READ SOME POSTINGS ON THE WALL.
DEFINITELY ATTRACTIVE IN A PLAIN SORT OF WAY. IT WAS LIKE, YEAH, I’M BEAUTIFUL, BUT I’M NOT GOING TO WORK AT IT. LIPSTICK & ALL THAT SHIT? FUCK THAT. DAMN SEXY, I MUST SAY.
SO WHY IS IT THAT A WOMAN GOES OUT OF HER WAY TO MEET ME & THEN ACTS SO COY THAT IT’S LIKE SHE DOESN’T GIVE A CRAP? WHY DO WOMEN PLAY GAMES? AND WHY DO THE GAMES KEEP CHANGING?
SHE BASICALLY GAVE ME THE BRUSH-OFF. WTF?
I’VE GOT A HEADACHE. AND A MASSIVE BRUISE…NOT JUST TO THE EGO, BUT TO MY RIGHT THIGH. NO NEED TO EXPLAIN IT. WHAT’S CLEAR IS WOMEN ARE HAZARDOUS TO MY HEALTH.