I awoke early this morning, because I had to be at the library by 8:00. I checked my phone and found an interesting Facebook notification. It was a friend request from The Musician. I immediately sent Gail a screencap, had a beat of thought and confirmed his request. Had I broken down that beat, it would’ve gone something like this:
That’s really weird. I should probably deny him. I bet I could make this worse, though. It’s likely that that would be a lot funnier.
This thought process is a major aspect of my personality and humor.
The Musician was Gail’s recurring one-night stand for about a year. “Friends with benefits” implies that they’d ever have hung out for any other reason and they did not. He did a lot of recreational drugs and played Jazz. The only thing they had in common was that they interlocked. He was her one and only fuck buddy. I never cared for The Musician, because he wanted an exclusive Gail while he stored multiple brands of tampons under his sink and had a mirrored headboard. He’s seven years older than us and every time they got in an argument, he’d patrionizingly defend his actions with “You’re just used to dealing with boys. I’m not a boy. I’m a man.” We mock this to this day… like all the fucking time. Once, he and Gail were fooling around, while she was on her period (we tell each other way too damned much), and he pulled back to mumble sexily
“So how we gonna do this, Megan?”
:beat of silence: “How we gonna do this, Baby?”
I shit you not. Gail just went with it, because it’s not like she was there for the conversation any more than Megan was. Regardless, I root for her, because I will always root for her and it’s her vagina, so what-the-fuck-ever. They continued on and off until Gail met her current fella and still ocassionally text, but that’s all.
Okay. That’s Gail’s background with The Musician. Mine is shorter. I met him twice. I had one actual conversation with him a year and a half ago. He’d gotten Gail near to tears the previous weekend by implying she was a big ol’ ho for talking to other guys, while he called her Baby to keep his facts straight. There is no quicker way to get me or Gail to go Mama Bear than to make the other cry. I was drunk and told him he didn’t have a real job and that he probably wouldn’t tell Gail how many women he’d slept with, because he didn’t remember. Beyond this, he knew only what Gail told him of me.
So after deciding I could probably make this Funny Bad and accepting The Musician’s friend request, I went to work and forgot about it… until he messaged me. I called my Gramma after work to laugh about how he’d contacted me.
Gramma: “You need to stay away from him.”
Me: “Please, Gramma. My panties are like Fort Knox. Like I’m going to let a musician into them.”
I tend to be a total snob about men, rarely giving a second date, and have a lot of sexual hangups, so my magic number is still just the one.
I called Gail and refused to tell her anything until we met in person, only excitedly exclaiming:
“WE’RE GONNA BE WEINER BUDDIES!”
I also clarified:
“Hey. He messaged me. If you thought that I was above fucking with him for it, then you have greatly overestimated me as a person.”
*Sidenote: Gramma doesn’t like the phrase ‘Weiner Buddies.”
The following conversation is as much copy and paste as was possible for proper blogging. I shared it with Gail this evening in a Taco Bell. Just to be clear, my profile picture is of Gail and myself. The Musician knows I’m Gail’s sisterfriend, though he doesn’t bring that up.
You look to have had a makeover since I’ve seen you last! Nicely done. Hope yer doing fancy
Well, thank you very much for saying so. I’ve been well. You? How’s music?
– “Wow. You’re not fat anymore. I’ll make contact and inquiries as to your well-being… even though I’ve never done so ever.” Charming. No wonder he’s rollin’ in the pussy. On an unrelated note, don’t use that phrase over Thanksgiving dinner. You’re welcome. –
🙂 another day in paradise…music is going well. Sometimes I think my life is akin to being the like man with the most cigarettes in jail hehe
You should swing by a show sometime. Visit the city much?
– He does not know how to get into Fort Knox. –
That’s good to hear. I make it to the city every now and then. Been working and finishing up school. Where do you play?
– This was the point where I could’ve blown him off and ended the conversation politely. I, however, gave it some thought and decided that not only would it be funnier to not disuade him, but to actualy encourage him. –
We’ve been performing at the doll house downtown for the last year. (and no its not a strip club haha) I think my tenure with them is about over though which means we are back to the grind.
The city has some new venues worth checking out. Ill be at Grandads this coming thursday off the top of my head.
If you find yourself this way don’t be a stranger. I will always remember you riding in my back seat, firing off your mind lasers and sharing comical observations about the universe.
Message me sometime if you think you’ll be out. [His phone number] or Facebook me though sometimes it gets frozen and won’t work on me
– This is the point in the conversation that turned Gail’s laughter to screeching bird noises and mine to wheezing gasps broken up by clicking sounds. Not only does “back to the grind” mean “unemployed”, but I’ve never even seen The Musician’s car. I’ve only spoken with him once, when Gail and I went to a bar downtown and I was pretty damned clear on the whole not-liking-him thing. How many women does he sleep with that he’s actually confused The Bitch Friend of more than one? “I will always remember…” Apparently not, because that never fucking happened. The man just hit on me by reminiscing over an anecdote of someone else’s. That’s the best pickup line in the HISTORY OF TIME. I’m tattooing it to my fucking labia, because it is haaaaaawt. “Mind lasers”? Was he on some sort of halucinogen at the time? Was he during this conversation? –
Well, I’ll be sure and do that sometime soon. I’ve been wanting to visit the Dollhouse, actually. I’ve heard good things.
I haven’t even had a night out in ages with school and two jobs.
– No. I will not be sure and do that sometime soon. Yes. Ineed, I was fishing for him to ask me out… because it would be funny. Keep up. –
Well we gotta fix that lol! What are you studying and where ya working?
I graduate in May with my Masters in Library and Information Studies. I’m working at Shetland Schools and the library on the southside.
– No fucking way was I telling him which library. –
Librarian aye? Somehow that makes sense. Librarians are some of the most interesting people to be around I’ve discovered. Very mischevious.
If you see me out don’t tell the library… I have some late fees :O
Me: “I swear, the man has got to have a punch card and the only thing left on it is ‘Librarian.’
Gail: “What does he get when it’s full?”
Me: “I don’t know. VD? Syphillis that makes him blind?”
Gail: “So all syphillis? He gets BAD syphillis?”
Yup. Dream job. Just gotta do my final presentation.
Haha. Don’t worry too much about the fines. They disappear after six months.
-Nobody flirts like this gal. It’s like a striptease with words. Bow chicka wow wow. –
Really?! I’m going to the library today then:D What are you getting into this evening Miss?
That’s fines, not books, BTW. Lol. Not a lot. Probably more homework. Kind of broke and that’s free. You having crazy musician times tonight?
– And if so, would you invite me so I can giggle over it with my sister in every way outside of a CSI episode, whose ass you’ve been inside? –
Lol. I’ll have to keep that in mind.
Gail: choking on laughter “You’re a horrible person. You can’t do that. I’ll feel involved for telling you his cat’s name.”
Me: :nodding with a huge grin:
Gail: “Do not give me that look! I played hard to get, too. If you meet up with him, he’ll get into Fort Knox. Fortunately, I’m off tomorrow and I’ll leave my ringer on so I can hear it when you call me from the breakfast place down the street.”
Me: “Psh. I can’t even have sex alone without crying, Gail.”
Gail: “Yeah. That’s why I’m picking you up in this scenario. You’re crying too hard to drive.”
Me: “Gail, is he really just that charming? He opened with ‘Dayum, you’re not fat anymore.’ How’s he going to get me to sleep with him? You’re forgetting that I don’t find him attractive even a little.” :gesturing toward my lap: “It wouldn’t matter if this were Vegas. He still wouldn’t be gettin’ in… and like you’ve ever played hard to get with anyone.”
Gail: “You say that now, but…” :pauses to think of an appropriate metaphor and lays her hand on the Kindle I felt I had to bring into a Taco Bell: “You have this Kindle and it hasn’t been charged in a loooong time. That plug-in right there might be dirty, but if you want to read badly enough… you’ll use it. This is actually turning out to be a really good metaphor for you. In fact, based on the stuff you like to read, it’s a really good example.”
Me: “That may be true, but it’s not gonna happen, because as much as I like to say ‘Weiner Buddies’…”
Alas, I did not take him up on it. I went home, wrote this blog and read. Perhaps, Gail and I have forever lost the chance to be Weiner Buddies. It is a bond we will never share.