The guy that
delivers water to my office is shady as fuck. When we first met I was
completely convinced he was gay and I had a new best friend. We were absolutely
going to go shopping together and he was going to be on speed dial for fashion
emergencies; like whether or not I should be wearing heels or flats with my dress
- or if in fact I could pull off a dope pair of sneakers.
Before you all get
pissed off and up in arms about how insensitive I am…nah …I don’t care; you’d
have thought and done the same if you were in my position. I pictured us
walking side by side happily swinging shopping bags from our wrists as we sipped
on smoothies while laughing at other shoppers as they passed by. My new BFF
would foot the bill for most of my purchases because along with not having any
taste, I also have no money and he’s a computer programmer on the side. He just
delivers water to stay in good physical shape. Obviously!
He was a beautiful
specimen of a man; 5’11” of dark flawless chocolate chiseled manhood. He had a
perfect smile and the cutest little dimples. He would come into the office and
after a period of getting to know one another we would joke around and spit
lyrics to old 90’s Hip-Hop songs. He really was more flamboyant than my Uncle
Hector and that very fine man dressed in drag at least twice a week. I have
bonded with him. We are going to go dancing at some point, I just know it! I’m
so excited. Maybe he’ll do my makeup.
I want to make sure
I’m painting this picture appropriately: I have waged war with my co-workers -
convinced Water Boy is gay and defending my Gaydar. I have planned excursions
and concerts, sleepovers too and have considered letting my hair grow just so
that he can braid it; I’m committed to this friendship. It’s real, yo! Remember
those friendship necklaces in the shape of hearts? One friend takes one half
and the other friend takes the other? Ok, so that shit was never going to
happen because I’m not 13 yrs. old anymore, but it was like that. Swoon.
It came to be that
one day at his behest we became Facebook friends. It seemed a natural
progression at the time. We were already hugging goodbye when he came into the
office. I’ll stop you guys before you say some dumb shit like: “why would you
hug the water guy?” I hug everyone. I warn people when I meet them that I am
hugger. If you have issues with needing personal space, you need to tell me
that shit because unless you stink or you’re an asshole, chances are I will hug
you. It’s just how I roll. So the two of us end up friends on Facebook and that’s
when I decide I want to know what his shoe collection looks like. What kind of
adventures can I expect to go on? Are there any pictures of him and his man?
Maybe there’s a how-to on eyeliner application because for real, that shit has
always stumped me. I inevitably always end up looking like someone with Parkinson’s
disease tried applying it while in a moving vehicle [just having the disease
isn’t enough to convey my ineptitude]. To my dismay and UTTER shock I found
nothing of this sort on his page…
Water Boy is
married and has children! Hey dumb-shit, if you’re going to hit on women you
may want to think about dummying up another Facebook account – one sans family.
It was monumentally stupid to give me access to your life information.
MONUMENTAL!! You’re so very lucky that I’m not in the business of hurting other
people unnecessarily these days when it’s not my business. You ought to be
fucking ashamed of yourself!!! You have 3 beautiful children and a lovely wife,
numbnuts! When I confronted him about his family I got this: “Well, we weren’t
going to stay together, but now I guess we’re working it out.” Oh, you guess
you’re going to work it out? I’m sure your wife is going to be thrilled to hear
that. It’s people like this that make me want to run around with scissors and
cut the crotches out of all of their expensive pants and shit in their shoes. Now,
in fairness, I know women can be just as crappy, manipulative, and self-serving
but my experience wasn’t with a woman – it was with spineless Water Boy. I
write what I know. I know my Gaydar is off.
You would think it
ends there. Brace yourselves…
I’m forgiving as
all get out, so in an effort to not have it be weird at work [and to be a
complete pussy and really just avoid confrontation] I let the whole thing go
and tell him he just needs to be professional and I forgive the transgression.
A short time passes and I think things are cool. Then I get this message that
basically thanks me for treating him like a human in spite of his bullshit.
THEN THAT MOTHER FUCKER ASKED ME OUT AGAIN!!! WTF!! Shady ass piece of shit; I
feel I ought to have shit in his shoes. He lives far away though and that’s a
true commitment. Maybe if we were friends. I guess I really hurt his feelings
on this last round because he posted some sad sappy shit about deleting his
Facebook account. Oh, so sad…said no woman he ever hit on that found out the
truth. I am so pissed! I was so looking forward to French braids and
sleepovers. Fucker. He probably deleted it so I don’t contact his wife. I have
no interest in destroying marriages, he’ll do that on his own – I’m certain of
it.
This is not
exclusive to men, ladies do this shit too; we’re just better at it. On second
thought, I feel a bowel movement coming on and a 40 min drive sounds just about
right. A little wind in my unbraided hair…
Gwad!
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