How Was I To Know She Was With The Russians Too?
10.05.05 (5:41 am) [edit]No, I didn't go home with the waitress. You know, the way I always don't.
Thursday I went in at the same time as a manager. He asked me where I wanted to sit. "At one of Amanda's tables, please." So he called for her to tell him which table was hers and there I was.
"I asked to be seated at your table."
"I know!"
"I had to, since you REJECTED me last time." (Big smile.)
( Bigger smile) "Well, I was filled up. I'm sorry."
"I was broken hearted. I felt terrible. I went home and I cried myself to sleep. I'm totally full of shit, but I have to say SOMETHING to you, right?"
That made her laugh. I LOVE making her laugh.
Later, she came back and brought me my check.
"Thank you!"
Then she smiled at me. That killer, unbelievable smile that makes my weenie warm. I swear, it looks like a "please fuck me"smile, but it comes along with a complete detachment that makes me fucking nuts. This girl knows her shit, I tell you. She's probably destroyed the hearts and minds of thousands of hapless fucks like me, armed only with that sweet, sexy, lying smile. And those sharp blue eyes. Oh my fucking lord, those eyes.
"Amanda, if you keep smiling at me like that, I'm going to gain 30 pounds and go broke from being in here eating these damn five-ways every day."
I've been waiting to use that line for a while.
"Well, I'll have to keep smiling then!" And she did. That little tease of a girl. God, i'd eat her like a buffet.
I went up to the coutner to pay my bill. She walked by. I found myself standing there, with a stupid grin on my face. Just looking at her. That was it. Just looking at her, with some damn stupid smile on my face.
"What???" She laughed.
"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all."
Yeah, right. "Nothing" in this case translating to "I want to bury my face in your snatch and fuck you until your legs go numb." There's no hiding my intentions. Oh, the things I'd do to her. I've got a list. And she will be mine. Oh, she WILL be mine.
I went back yesterday. She calld me "babydoll." I called her "my little sweetheart." That was about the extent of it. but I'm convinced of one thing - any woman who'd look at ME and use the word "babydoll" is either A.) A waitress looking for her two dollar tip, B.) Clinically insane, or C.) Both. I'm hoping it's C. I need a sociopathic chick who craves my hot dysfunctional lovin'.
On the way home tonight, I found myself doing something I haven't done in a month ormore. Gripping the steering wheel like a life preserver, trying to keep from screaming my head off at nothing at all. Filled with hate and rage. For no real reason. It scared me a little, until I realized why it was happening. I hadn't played the game today. I didn't see Amanda today. When I saw Jenny, I was nothing but business. (Lost my badge and couldn't clock in, and an hour after I had her put in a request for another one, I found it jammed in between the crack by the seat in the car.) No play time. No fucking around. And I've been getting by merely on that for two months. Playing that fucking game. It's been all I've really needed. But I didn't do it, and I should have. In some way. I realize now how important it is for me to do this stupid shit. It keeps my ridiculous male ego from imploding on itself. So tomorrow, I'll do it somemore. Maybe feign an excuse to go see Jenny and comment on her hair. Maybe take the ten bucks I made selling CDs today and go have lunch at Steak & Shake, and flirt with the hottest waitress around. Fuck, I don't know. Maybe I'll take ten bucks and go downtown looking for cheap disease-riddled fun. I don't know. Maybe I'll come home and get drunk. Anything to keep my mind off how much I don't enjoy being alone at the very same time I really, really enjoy being all alone. I don't know where this schizoid, bipolar shit is leading me,. but I do know one thing - it's one hell of a lot of fun to play the fucking game.
Dougie