stream of consciousness
I don't know much, but I do know that I wouldn't recommend eating an entire Chipotle burrito immediately before sitting down for a two-hour strategy meeting with your firm's principals and your immediate supervisor.
Oh my god – I could barely keep my eyes open. I was trying everything – pinching my thigh, jiggling my legs, clenching my calves (I read on another blog that's a sure-fire way to wake yourself up), poking my pencil into the palm of my hand, picturing the last sexual experience I had (and that wasn't too helpful since the memory is quite distant and hazy)….
I'm such a wimp. I was at a party last weekend (that consisted entirely of gay boys), and spent 90% of the time checking out one guy in particular. He was so friggin' cute, but we never really talked because he was at a teeny little kitchen table with his friends and I was out in the living room with my friends. And because he was all gorgeous and shit and I was totally intimidated.
Then today I was walking back from getting my Chipotle nap-inducer and saw him walking out of the Republic Building. I gave him a subtle little head nod, and I think I saw him give me a little nod too. But I wasn't sure, so I played it cool and kept walking. Arghh.
Thank god I'm wearing the pants that make my butt look fantastic today!
Oh – and as long as we're on the subject of "Matt is a freak," I might as well 'fess up about my experience with the hot guy at Banana Republic two Fridays ago. I know the way I portrayed it, the situation came off sounding pretty smooth. In reality, this is what happened:
Me: Hi – I'd like to get this shirt in a medium, but you only have it in large and small.
Hottie: OK, I know we don't have it in a medium here, but let me give the Cherry Creek store a call. Just a second.
(Awkward pause while he's put on hold. We stand there silently for about 90 seconds. I can't stop thinking what great forearms he has….then he catches me staring at his arms and I immediately look away....)
Hottie: So, where do you live?
Me: (getting physically aroused by the very question itself) Um, just north of downtown. By the Platte River.
Hottie: Oh yeah? I have a friend who lives in the Riverside Lofts.
Me: (about to shamefully lie, but at the same time giddy at the prospect of continuing the conversation) Really? Me too!
Hottie: Oh yeah? What's his name?
Me: (frozen in shock over being caught in a lie) Um, ahhh, mmmmm (3-5 second pause - my eyes darting all over the place) Patrick? Yeah! Patrick. Well, actually Patrick stays in the apartment of his boyfriend….um…Scott!
(Hottie stares at me like I'm the hugest freak EVER)
Me: Well, actually it's a bit of a stretch to call him a friend. He's really more of an acquaintance. I mean, I have a lot of acquaintances, but very few real friends. You know? Like, someone you've only hung out with once or twice can't really be considered a friend, can they? I mean, you can call them a friend, but a TRUE friend is the kind of person who's there for you in an emergency, like, when you fall in the shower or something. (Interior monologue: Oh my god – why did I just say fall in the shower? What am I, 80? Oh shit! – his eyes are starting to glaze over….)
Hottie: Yeah...O.K. Anyway, they're just going to need your address and billing information here. You have yourself a good day....
(He walks away, shaking his head slightly. I begin to try to slit my wrists with my Visa.)
And that, my friends, is Smooth Matt. I just felt like I had to come clean. Ahhh - let the healing begin!
Tonight I'm going to be a jock.
My firm is having a bowling party at Lucky Strikes from 5-7, and then I'm meeting some friends at Shakepeare's afterwards to play pool. Two sports in one night! And yes, I do realize that I'm using the term "sport" loosely.
I'm such a renaissance man….
Oh my god – I could barely keep my eyes open. I was trying everything – pinching my thigh, jiggling my legs, clenching my calves (I read on another blog that's a sure-fire way to wake yourself up), poking my pencil into the palm of my hand, picturing the last sexual experience I had (and that wasn't too helpful since the memory is quite distant and hazy)….
I'm such a wimp. I was at a party last weekend (that consisted entirely of gay boys), and spent 90% of the time checking out one guy in particular. He was so friggin' cute, but we never really talked because he was at a teeny little kitchen table with his friends and I was out in the living room with my friends. And because he was all gorgeous and shit and I was totally intimidated.
Then today I was walking back from getting my Chipotle nap-inducer and saw him walking out of the Republic Building. I gave him a subtle little head nod, and I think I saw him give me a little nod too. But I wasn't sure, so I played it cool and kept walking. Arghh.
Thank god I'm wearing the pants that make my butt look fantastic today!
Oh – and as long as we're on the subject of "Matt is a freak," I might as well 'fess up about my experience with the hot guy at Banana Republic two Fridays ago. I know the way I portrayed it, the situation came off sounding pretty smooth. In reality, this is what happened:
Me: Hi – I'd like to get this shirt in a medium, but you only have it in large and small.
Hottie: OK, I know we don't have it in a medium here, but let me give the Cherry Creek store a call. Just a second.
(Awkward pause while he's put on hold. We stand there silently for about 90 seconds. I can't stop thinking what great forearms he has….then he catches me staring at his arms and I immediately look away....)
Hottie: So, where do you live?
Me: (getting physically aroused by the very question itself) Um, just north of downtown. By the Platte River.
Hottie: Oh yeah? I have a friend who lives in the Riverside Lofts.
Me: (about to shamefully lie, but at the same time giddy at the prospect of continuing the conversation) Really? Me too!
Hottie: Oh yeah? What's his name?
Me: (frozen in shock over being caught in a lie) Um, ahhh, mmmmm (3-5 second pause - my eyes darting all over the place) Patrick? Yeah! Patrick. Well, actually Patrick stays in the apartment of his boyfriend….um…Scott!
(Hottie stares at me like I'm the hugest freak EVER)
Me: Well, actually it's a bit of a stretch to call him a friend. He's really more of an acquaintance. I mean, I have a lot of acquaintances, but very few real friends. You know? Like, someone you've only hung out with once or twice can't really be considered a friend, can they? I mean, you can call them a friend, but a TRUE friend is the kind of person who's there for you in an emergency, like, when you fall in the shower or something. (Interior monologue: Oh my god – why did I just say fall in the shower? What am I, 80? Oh shit! – his eyes are starting to glaze over….)
Hottie: Yeah...O.K. Anyway, they're just going to need your address and billing information here. You have yourself a good day....
(He walks away, shaking his head slightly. I begin to try to slit my wrists with my Visa.)
And that, my friends, is Smooth Matt. I just felt like I had to come clean. Ahhh - let the healing begin!
Tonight I'm going to be a jock.
My firm is having a bowling party at Lucky Strikes from 5-7, and then I'm meeting some friends at Shakepeare's afterwards to play pool. Two sports in one night! And yes, I do realize that I'm using the term "sport" loosely.
I'm such a renaissance man….
posted by denverco at 3:17 PM
2 Comments:
Ummm...yeah...FREAK. Kidding. I rarely find the courage to really talk to guys I think could be my next ex. I did play it really cool the other night when finally meeting a guy I see out quite a bit. I was very non-chalant and "I don't care if we talk." Now I'm thinking I probably came off as a snobby bitch. Oh well...I am one anyway.
Holy crap, that is hilarious. It sounds like you and I have something in common, we are ramblers. A hot guy starts talking to me and I get verbal diarrhea, I start telling stupid ass stories, then I want to melt into the floor!
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