GIRL 31
FRAGRANCE GIRL
They say the perfect one night stand, at midnight, turns into a pizza and a six-pack. Fragrance Girl had to be the next best thing. She emailed me on a Wednesday morning. I met her for a drink at City Streets that night. She was tall, fully eye-to-eye with me. And big. She looked tough enough to kick my ass. She ordered a scotch and tossed it down, ordered another, and while she waited, she smiled at me. She was 50, worked for a perfume company, and was dying for some cock, or so she said. The second drink came, and she sucked that in and looked at me.
"What can I say, I'm a cheap date. Let's go to your place."
One of the reasons that women are usually so indirect with men is that a statement like that from a strange female can make a guy go suddenly shy. It's a challenge. It's like showing your teeth to a bear.
I was up for it.
I suppose it was the bedroom equivalent to combat. It was over in an hour, and the entire time we never did it face-to-face. She didn't turn into pizza and beer, but she did disappear fast.
I tried to sleep but couldn't. My traitorous penis, Tyrannosaurus Rex, kept snoring. Finally I woke him up.
"Hey," I said, "I thought you were looking for a girlfriend for us."
"I am," he said, glancing at his watch, then glaring at me. "You woke me up to ask me something?"
"Well, yeah, if you're looking for a girlfriend, what was she all about?"
He rubbed his eyes. "You know how long I worked on getting Girl 29?"
I made a face. "Days?"
"Hell with you. It was weeks of contact but a month of searching. Then I finally get a girl who not only takes it up the ass, but she loves it! And when that woman came, it was like Old Faithful erupting. But what do you do? You get all insecure! 'Oh, I want a relationship! Oh, I'm just not happy with this situation!' You pussy." Whenever he imitated me, he made me sound like some kind of fruit.
"So that's your answer? Fragrance Girl? You get hungry and order a truck driver?"
He smiled cunningly.
"There'll be more of the same until you get another one like 29. That wasn't about feeding me. It was about torturing you."
"Oh, great. Now I'm being blackmailed by a body part."
"Hey, the other organs do it. You even think of sausage and pepperoni pizza this late and your stomach becomes an acid factory."
He had a point. So the ultimatum was to agree to Rex's choice in females or be fed a constant stream of unsuitables. Well, I thought, at least the unsuitable one had liked Rex, and kissed him and sucked him until he gave her something to gargle with.
He didn't wait for my reply. He just started snoring again.
Months later, I upgraded an instant message software program after the damned thing nagged me every day for weeks. When I did, it found every single contact I'd ever instant messaged. I eliminated them all except for one. Who is that masked girl?
I wrote her an IM. "Hi," I said.
"Hello," she replied cautiously.
"Who are you?"
"Linda," she typed. "You don't remember me?"
By then I'd dated twenty Lindas. It was one reason everyone got a nickname. Anal Banker Girl. Poodle-Haired Skinny Girl. Just try telling your friends about "Linda." They're all like, who? Then you have to say, "you know, the one who put ice in her mouth and blew me?" Oh, yeah, they say, what about her? You may as well just skip the step and call her Ice Blow Girl.
So I started guessing her name. "Overgrown Bush Girl?"
She laughed. "Nope."
I went through five more Lindas before I figured her out. "Oh, Fragrance Girl!"
"It's me," she typed. "Still dating like a maniac?"
"Hey, I'm not a maniac about it."
"Yeah, well, I'm looking for a relationship, not just a roll in the hay. Bye, Michael."
She coulda fooled me, I thought.
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