GIRL 32
VIRGO TROPHY GIRL
I admit it. I was deep into my blonde phase.
She looked gorgeous in the pictures. Like a millionaire's trophy wife. God, those pictures - miniskirts, mile-long legs, long blonde hair, movie star smile. What man wouldn't be liquefied by it all?
But how does one go about hitting on a girl like that? Especially when I don't believe in persistence? I hate the idea that I could be perceived as a stalker, so I never pester a woman on email.
Fortunately, she wrote me back almost immediately. We had the usual email dance, but not a single phone call. With Virgo Trophy Girl, I went straight from email to seeing her.
I walked into the restaurant and she was already there. There was no mistaking her. The long blonde hair, the Barbie Doll body, the enchanting face.
But something was wrong. It's not often I feel this way, but sometimes alone in a room with someone, I am truly alone. It is as if not much of a soul inhabited the body.
I wondered if my sometimes-present clairvoyance would kick in. I wondered to myself if she had been faithful to her husband. For the next hour, without my asking anything, she told me the story of how her entire marriage, she was cheating with some abusive guy she'd met years before. He'd call her up every blue moon and she would drop everything to go fuck him, then wonder why her husband was cold and distant.
I was sweet to her. She never asked me a thing about me. I paid the check, walked her to her car. She tilted her head up for a good-night kiss.
I contemplated not kissing her at all. Then I remembered Girl 2. I pulled her to me, circled her lips with my tongue, then entered her mouth, my tongue dancing around hers for a split second before caressing hers. I sucked her lower lip in and bit it gently. When I released her, she gasped in surprise and passion and desire. I smiled at her, turned and walked away into the night.
I heard footsteps behind me on the sidewalk. I turned and saw the supreme being, decked out in a worn leather trenchcoat and an Indiana Jones hat, and though it was midnight, he wore his dark smoked Ray·Bans.
"You tryin' to look like a movie star again?" I asked him.
"Maybe they're trying to look like me."
Fair enough, I thought. "Did that date have any particular purpose other than wasting my time?"
"What do you think?"
I thought until I reached the truck. He was already in the passenger seat and stealing the last of my gum, as usual.
"Closest I can come is that maybe I made her realize why her marriage failed. She was never in it in the first place."
He nodded. "Any thoughts come to you from your talk with her?"
"Yeah. Why do women go for the abusive guys? Why don't they just walk away?"
"You tell me," the supreme being said. "How long were you in those marriages?"
I pursed my lips. "It's not the same thing."
He sighed. "You don't get it, do you?"
Now I was angry. "Fuck you." I looked over at him, but he had already faded away.
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