Dont Mince Words

I hate texting, but once in a while it’s fun to see a “conversation” unfold.  This is between me and AMFINS (a male friend I never screwed).  Two single adults, home on a Saturday night, drinking, watching TV, and texting.

AMFINS:  I’m drunk.  You aren’t.  Me awesome.

ME:  I’m catching up.

AMFINS:  Fucking drunk.  Meeeeee.

ME:  Bergins?

AMFINS:  I was there.  I had a beer crawl in downtown.  WOMANS you Woman Marna Drunk Me.

ME:  Don’t drive your Porsche.

AMFINS:  Woman.  I need hookers.  And beer.  And blow. And more hookers. And some potato salad.  And a fresca.

ME:  You are killing me.  LOL.

AMFINS:  I am watching Die Hard.  WOMAN.  Hookers for me now.

ME:  I’m watching White Collar, eating Starburst, drinking wine while Dixie licks her ass.

At this point, AMFINS calls me and lets me know the next time I’m in LA, we’re getting drunk.  This was his morning after exchange:

AMFINS:  I was very drunk last night.  Blasted actually.

ME:  It was fun. You must be an Olympic drinker because you didn’t slur at all.

AMFINS:  I’ve had practice.

And this is why I choose my friends wisely and I love the friends I have.

I completed my graduate degree at night while working a full-time job during the day.  When I finished, I didn’t read for a year.  No books, no newspapers, no magazines.  I was so burnt out from school, it was my way to detox and feel in control of my free time.  Since then, I’ve taken classes to meet people with similar interests.  I even registered to start pre-law classes at John Jay, but withdrew after 9/11.

Now online ed/distance learning is the thing and I’m back in a corporate environment that makes you create personal “development” goals.  It’s all monkeyspank, I know.  Anyone that knows me, knows I can personally develop by changing vibrator attachments.  But whatever, I’ll play the game.

I registered for a six-week brand writing class and let me tell you, I’m through with school and admit I’m too old for this shit:  homework deadlines, people that ask dumb questions, and professors that have less professional experience than me.

Deadlines and stupid people?  I can just work late.  I’m back to getting my education through books, documentaries, and life experience.

I had date with another 61 year-old.  No, not the sexter, but a new one.  It made me realize that I just can’t pull off the older-guy thing.  How do the mid-life crises guys date women half their age?  What do they talk about?

John was charming on the phone and eager to meet me AFTER he did my astrological chart and determined we were a good match. I will admit, older men have mastered the art of conversation.  That’s their game.  If you overlook the orthotic shoes, age spots, and receding gums and focus on the conversation, it’s not so bad.  We met for happy hour and within one minute of meeting me, he wanted to hold my hand.  After doing the six-second size-up, all my hand wanted to hold was a beer.  When I did not immediately fall into his hands/arms, I was accused of being closed off.

Santa Barbara is like the Bermuda Triangle for men between the ages of 30 and 55.  They just don’t exist.  Or maybe they are here, but in some Area 51-type compound getting tested on so that the 60+ men can learn how to improve their game.  Whatever the case, geezers I quit you.

Put that in my chart.