Saturday I Was:
23 April 2009 at 3:16 pm
Up at 10 and straight to the beach. A few hours chatting with Jaime (I tell Kristie later, "She's like my People magazine. Wait, no--she's my US Weekly"), a quick pop over to the aesthecian, and back in the sun for a few hours with Interpol and Jimi Hendrix. I go to pick Kristie up: girly screams about absolutely everything while I get ready for a date. A date! That I'm actually looking forward to and not dreading one bit!
She helps me get ready, lamenting her ear infection all the while in between inviting herself along, and he picks me up, because I like that sort of thing, the guy picking me up, him opening door, him scooting my chair in for me. I need that sort of thing to feel comfortable, because that's how my daddy treats women, and, you know, manners exist for a reason: they make people comfortable because we know what to expect and what is expected of us. It's not a respect thing -- I mean, it is, but it's also a demonstration of how you were raised, what sort of things you value, and I value manners (though I may make it a point to ignore tact when necessary).
Kristie gives him directions to what will be a sub-par sushi place (Edomasa on De La Vina, you do not hold one candle to Arigato), since he learned that I have no sense of direction earlier that day when I was trying to find a bar regular's place of employment so he could give me a free oil change.
"Why don't you get a GPS?"
"Because where's the fun in that?"
After dinner, I buy him a drink at Don's, to remind him that I'm able to, and we can't keep our hands off each other. You guys, I think it's spring.
We try to meet up with my coworkers, and end up at Joe's briefly, where I run into at least one person I know from one of my other lives, and then to Old King's Road to play pool with Costa Rica Samantha and this guy from a famous local band that is no more (hot gossip I was privy to later that night). My boy won Samantha over by buying her a drink, and then giving her a ride home, and giving the band member a ride home upon Samantha's suggestion.
This is how we roll in SB (and probably life in general, really): if you want to fit in, take everyone out wasted and get them home safe. You'll have more friends than you know what to do with.
After dropping off the band member, we're two or three blocks away from my place when I made him pull over. Because we can't keep our hands off each other, and also, I never really did the making out in cars enough, I don't think, for how fun it is.
Asleep and awake before anything happens, ice tea and sandwiches at The Daily Grind, and Kristie still has my car, so he drops me off at home and she comes and picks me up and we're off to the beach to meet up with my barback. We were supposed to run into each other the night before, but he was trashed and I end up hearing the same story three times about how he was almost arrested running home from a girl's house at 5am. Each subsequent telling is more varied, more enthusiastic, little details altered depending on the reactions he's gotten from the earlier show.
I love to track the progress of a story like that. It reminds me that everyone's lying, all the time, and usually for the benefit of others.
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