It’s been a while. Did you miss me? I did. I won’t try to explain the reason for my absence, as my honesty may incriminate me and my friends may start calling and chanting, “Dusty has a GIRRRLFRIEND…” Hey turdwads, I have been sick, too.

In a later entry, I may try to explain how great this girl is, but suffice it to say she is cooler than your girlfriend. She taught me the word “fucktard”, and now I think I love her.

I am still sick. I have some sort of upper body malfunction where everything above my waist was covered in phlegm (man, that is a great word. Take a moment and just look at it in its typed form for a minute. I bet you’ll smile), and then the snot went away and was replaced with an annoying cough that I think will be with me for a few weeks.

On Christmas eve, I hung out with the new ladyfriend who was also a victim of the cold from hell. We coughed for three hours in the movie theater, and went back to my place to enjoy some cold medicine and get dinner. I went to get some food at a local wing place and was met with an opportunity to spread some Christmas joy. It is not often that a woman will blatantly hit on me, and when it happens I almost always screw it up by not noticing what’s going on until much too late. On the way home, whoever I am with will be like “dude, that waitress thought you were the bees knees. Why didn’t you ask for her number?” Then I’m all cool like “Man, did you just say ‘bees knees’? I should kick you in the neck, you homo.” Meanwhile, my inner dialogue is “WHAT?! Dammit. She was good looking, too. God, I am a dumbass. What the hell? How do I not notice this crap?” followed by my rationalization; “Oh well, the only reason she thought I was the wasp’s nipples or whatever my gay friend just said is because I didn’t know what was going on.”

A glimpse into my mind.

Back to the story. I walk into this place having ordered ahead of time and allowing the chef ample time to prepare my order so I could just pick it up and go, and these two girls and a guy were leaving. One of the girls looks at me and says “Well don’t you look nice.” I looked down as if becoming aware that I was clothed for the first time that day (in fairness, I was wearing a cool sportcoat and a driving hat, so I did look pretty damn sexy if I do say so myself), and said “yeah, I guess I do, don’t I?” She laughed, I smiled and opened the door for them (a reflex, I assure you and meant in no way to encourage the coming onslaught). I sauntered up to the bar, the saunter being something I have only recently become good at, and asked the barperson for my piping hot order of wings. Naturally, 45 minutes is not nearly long enough to deep fry and spice chicken parts, so I waited, watching four rednecks try to impress three trailergirls by playing pool very loudly. I looked along the bar and saw the usual folks sitting there, some alone on Christmas eve, having a beer and watching some sports event on one of the monitors. Then I see the girl from before coming back in the door and walking straight toward me with what I think was a purposeful look on her face. She came up to me and asked me my name. I said “Mark”. She said, “well, Mark, I was wondering…” I interrupted- “My name’s not Mark. I feel I should be honest with you after all we have been through. My name is Dusty”. Why did I bother with the rapport? Because I just do that kind of stuff. She laughed and said “My friends and I are going to a party, and I have been the third wheel all week, and I want to have a date with me for a change. Will you go with us?” I do admire the guts it takes to say something like this, especially considering that she wasn’t drunk or ugly, so I told her that it sounds like fun, but I am involved with someone who has my complete attention, leaving out the part about my fear of being drugged and waking up with only one kidney. Then she kind of surprised me by offering me her phone number anyway. I told her that I really didn’t want her phone number, not because she didn’t appear to be a nice person and everything, but because I wouldn’t be calling her and didn’t want to be associated with the guys who get a girl’s number and never call. She was very insistent that I keep her phone number around in case the situation changes for me, and wrote it down on a napkin. I thanked her and told her to have a good night, and she left.

No sooner had the door closed than the guy sitting at the corner of the bar gets way too close to me and says, “dude, I was hitting on that bitch all night and she just ignored me. What the hell did you do?” I said, “I just walked past her” and explained that I am very good at walking past people, even offering to demonstrate. He said “You must have some kind of fuckin’ monster mojo.” All very flattering, but I told him it is just the phase of the moon or something. I have no idea what she found tasty about me. Feeling all full of the holiday spirit, I handed him the napkin with her number on it and told him to call her, but not to address her as “bitch” or to refer to himself as “that dude who was hitting on you shamelessly the other night”, or to mention the name “Dusty” lest she remembers me. He said, “This is my second chance…” and seemed to be very touched by the gesture, staring at the napkin. I thought he was going to sniff it. I swear. The bartender, now bearing a Styrofoam box of wings chimed in “This is the best Christmas ever”, clasping her hands below her chin, which made me laugh.

That’s me giving in the spirit of the season. I hope they get married and have lots of kids. Then I’d feel like I made a difference. I don’t hope he stalks her and holds her captive in his basement. She seemed like a nice girl.

God bless us, every one.

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