Because Being Thought about Naked by Strangers is So Awesome, Strippers Shouldn’t be the Only Ones Reaping the Benefits

Another one posted on Facebook that needs to be posted here.
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Being someone’s “Missed Connection” is an art. These serendipitous moments with the perfect connection and the perfect glance involve every bit of structure. There are skills involved, so many unsaid things that need to remain unspoken, but stated in some inaudible way, and so many emotions that need to be carefully and diligently pouring out of you like the tiny droplets of sweat of a chilled beer in a warm room. Everyone’s wants to be someone’s serendipitous moment. Every girl wants to feel like she is being stared at through those sunglasses and every guy wants to feel like someone is planning their wedding, as their being stared at.
Let me preface this by stating that if you’re unattractive, stop reading, walk away and go get attractive, come back and start over. If that doesn’t work, I know a few plastic surgeons I’d be happy to refer you to.
If you’re attractive and possess some form of sex appeal, I hate you. Keep reading…

After poring through what feels like a zillion missed connections on Craig’s List, I’ve noticed a few consistencies. There’s a formula to serendipity, and I just may have it figured out.

It’s all about lingering, and almosts, and maybes, and kind ofs.

Scenario:

You’re a good looking twenty something year old, and maybe you just got out of a long term relationship, and you’re down on yourself because the relationship lasted so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be spicy, “have it.” Perhaps, your ex told you he/she is breaking up with you because they’re tired of that tiny weird growth you have on your eyelid, that really only they have ever noticed, or that they can’t stand how your saliva tastes because all you eat is weird ethnic food, or, dare I say…you’re no good in bed, because since that last injury during an adventurous evening, you’ve lost your stamina. Sigh…So, you’re heart’s a little bruised and you never want to look at another member of the opposite sex again, at least not with that silent, I love you more than the stash of porn I have under my bed, look. Instead, you’re on the prowl for that single moment that feels like an epiphany in your stomach, but in your mind is really just a weightless glance and nothing more. Maybe. Or maybe you’re on the lookout to have that moment and then create some fantastic fantasy about what kind of wedding ring you’ll buy this person, and what your four boys will be named. Will they be named after your grandfather or his/her grandfather?

So I’ve developed a few straight-forward, “how-to rules” to achieve said moment.

The Look: You love to give it, but hate to get it, cause wtf does it mean anyway?!

--Always make eye contact with other attractive people. You must do this with every attractive person you see. You cannot let a chance for an opportunity pass you by. When this happens, don’t be too friendly. This means, don’t look so wide eyed and awestruck, or overly intimidated, you’re good looking that’s why you two have met each other’s eyes. Nor should you look like an asshole, take that scowl off your face, you’re no better than them, jerk. Plus, either of these extremes could divert the attention from your fantastic body and your lovely sex appeal. Which kind of would ruin everything. Also, if you look too eager to catch the eye contact, this will make you creepy and best and desperate, at worst.

So this look is more of a squinty eye thing; but not an “I’m blind therefore I squint,” look. More like, a very tiny minor squint, and you can’t keep it for too long. It’s got to give the message like, hey buddy, I know you’re looking at me, and I’m looking you but we’re not going to do anything about it. You want to be mysterious enough to give off a mischievous vibe that will cause your gazer to be too turned on or intimidated (most likely intimidated) to talk to you, but so enamored that he/she must write about you behind their beloved cyber mask.

Be Cool:

Don’t smile. Don’t smirk either. You can be serious, perhaps have a “straight face” shown by my fantastic emoticon here --> :-| . If you eyes are telling enough your mouth needs not to do anything. However, if you’re eyes are dull and empty you can try and save yourself with your mouth <>. The plan here is to make your mouth do something that is in between a smile and a smirk, which basically means you tense your lips and your cheek and slightly allow the edge of your lips to curl up. NOT TOO MUCH. This is very important, if you smirk, you’ll look stupid and creepy.

But not that cool:

If you have a quirk, like say… you blink every five seconds, or you have a nose twitch, or you bounce your knee up and down when you’re sitting, try to control it as best you can, but don’t try to hide it completely. You gotta let it be known that you’re kind of, maybe, a little fucked up. Tiny flaws are edgy. rawr.

Be Memorable:

Let’s be honest…if you’re going find your missed connections gazer; you have to make this your everyday full time job. So, always dress in something that says, “I’m here but I only kind of want you to know it.” Like red shoes, or a gray coat with silky red lining on the inside, or blue stockings under a white skirt. These memorable details will most inspire your gazer’s Missed Connections title: Adorable Sweetheart in the Polka Dotted Stockings or, Mr. Green Argyle Socks. Whatever it may be, the point is to be memorable enough that your gazer will use that one thing about you to differentiate you from anyone else, so that when you do avidly search for that missed connection about you, you’ll know, ahh yes, I’m the only crazy person who wears turquoise shoes and can pull them off.

Note: If you have red hair, stop right here. You do not need more flare.

Be Important:

Look busy so your gazer won’t be encouraged to approach you (this is if you have already glanced at your gazer and you looked so friendly that he/she might advance you). So, be interesting to entice attraction but removed enough to be unapproachable. Headphones or a really interesting book do the trick for this one.

That’s all I’ve got for you. You’re now one step closer to getting mentally stalked, thought about naked, and/or proposed to via internet. Aren’t you stoked?!

Of course, there’s the final step. You must vehemently check Missed Connections, I suggest you just do what I do and make it your homepage; then, have it automatically reload itself every 5 minutes. People may think you’re creepy, and pathetic, but really, they’re probably just jealous because they had to walk away and get attractive, and you did not. Either that or they’re just bitter and don’t believe in structured love, or planned serendipity.

I say, screw those jerks! Who doesn’t want to craft their own fantastical love!?

The (almost) "Daily" Sexy

My cupcake looks like it has a hat...

Lavender flavored icing, vanilla cake, candied edible pansies...

What's that you say? I'm awesome? Oh...yah, i already knew that. ;)

Dr. Midori Sour

My date with true love was Thursday morning...we got intimate fairly quickly. I hadn't even had a lick of alcohol yet, and she was askin' me all sort of personal questions; then she told me to get undressed so that, well, so that she could check me out. She stepped out for a second while I made myself comfortable, slipping on the backless robe with that wallpaper print plastered all over it, death pale blue, and little swirls of pastel colors floating around aimlessly looking very 80s... this is the Zach Morris cell phone of robes. Like a good girl, I do what she says and I hop onto the bed, and my ass slaps against the cold protective paper, i quickly jump in shock, well this is no way to get comfortable.

I'm sitting there twiddling my thumbs, thinking of all the ridiculous things that could happen at that very moment...my mind wanders and I imagine a sudden earthquake, and i'm running down the halls bare assed. I shrug, well i wouldn't be the only one..

I'm staring out the window thinking: everyone really did just see me get naked didn't they? Then right about the time when my heart jumps out of my nostril i notice the sign that says, "Our windows are tinted to ensure your privacy.." whew...

My date walks in and i'm certain she's noticed I'm nervous.. She says something, and I ask her to repeat it..and i tell her that yes, I'd like that vaccine, and she says, "great i'll put in an order.." We're all smiles up until she tells me she needs me to slide down, and as I'm sliding i rip the paper and it's awkward because it sounds like it could be a fart, but i'm hoping she knows i'm more tactful than that...we move on.

She pulls out the stirrups, and asks me to place my feet on them, and I'm nervous and cold, and most importantly i'm thinking, gosh darnit this girl moves fast. I want to make a joke, but i think our language barrier might cause some mis-communication and awkward misunderstanding. I bite my tongue.

She's down there talking me through her examination of my special area... I kind want to tell her to keep to herself, if you dont have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all... because, No Dr. Midori (her name is Minori), i don't know want you to tell me that the next thing you place in there will make my "tummy feel weird" and nor do I want you to tell me that the swab has to be there for 15 seconds, cause now all I'm doing is counting down..and your seconds are a lot longer than mine. I flinch and she tries to commiserate with me by saying, "i know i know, it feers weird..i'm sorry..." Look Midori, let's face it,you are not sorry! If you were you wouldn't be narrating right now, you'd be giving me a high five (not that kind) cause i'm being such a good patient (date)!

When she's all done checking everything out she pulls out all the crazy devices (okay...one thing..but still!) she's placed in my special area...and says nothing. In another dimension i'm saying, "wait..seriously? You're not even gonna tell me everything looks great? You're not gonna say, 'wow that is a well kept hoodle you got there'? " I'm confused...you do your thing, and i dont even get a compliment in the end? Call me egotistical but i'm pretty sure i deserved, at the very least a "looks good!" Just saying...

And you know what, if i'm honest here... the women's exam is way more uncomfortable than getting a shot, and when i was little, i'm pretty sure Dr. Fuhrman gave me lollipops and stickers every time I walked into his office...What did i walk out with this time around? Prescriptions. Yah, being a girl is awesome, but we have to do this little song and dance once a year and it's no Disneyland let me tell ya...i think we at least deserve lollipops, and if you for a second think i'm too old for lollipops, i hate you.

I suppose i would have settled for Peppercinni as well...

But so we're fighting now...and in a year, when we have our second date, we're gonna have to work this situation out because I'm tired of being walked all over Midori...just tired.

kind of like...

I've posted this on Facebook, but I like it enough that i feel the need to place it here. Sorry to those who have already read it.



We're driving down the freeway. The 118 west to be exact. I can't stand that after you pass through the canyons, KROQ's overrated music starts chopping up. Static infiltrates the speakers of Stef's car. Welcome to suburbia, USA. We turn off the radio

I place my fingertips just inches away from the window. Heat emanates off the tinted glass. Reasons why I hate southern California: 1) windows on a sunny day are fire hazardous I keep thinking that maybe just maybe, this time So Cal will be different, more accepting of my shortcomings, more welcoming...i hope. and yet.

We exit off Olson Rd and while i know that it's not spelled the same, i can't help but think of those two decrepit twins i so loved when i was five. But only for a moment. Just after i think, what's that street we're supposed to turn on? Wildflower Ave? Wild Boar St.? Raindance Rd? fuck, what is it? Poor Stef is already thinking about how the hell she is going to avoid traffic on the way back, and i can't even get to our first destination.

Moments later i remember that Wildwood is the evil street we turn right onto. Wildwood. and then after wildwood is.....and that takes me a while because for some reason Native American names are so foreign and non-catchy to me...Big Sky. Big fucking Sky. That's the street. But it doesn't matter at that point because all i can think about is that lawn. those lawns. Who the fuck cuts them so flawlessly? I imagine leaping with wildflowers and daisies through the lawns, the sound of music comes to mind and i start humming..."i am sixteen going on seventeen i know that i'm naive...fellas may think--"

Hll Canyon comes around. "Which one is it?" stef asks. "umm..." seconds go by..."this one, this one! on the right!" Their lawn is just as perfect.

I stand outside, no one knows we're there yet. I can breathe, but all i breathe in is heavy air and smog. welcome home? but no. it's not home. It's something else. and yet.

The smell of baked sweets creeps into my nostrils...i have bad sense of smell, but this...this is different.heavy sweet butter mixed with fresh cinnamon and vanilla..but really it's the butter i've deprived myself (even though my body wouldn't really show it) for four long years that's housing in my senses.

I take a deep breath. Knock. Ring the doorbell...and all of the sudden i feel like a Jehovah Witness evangelist because no one answers, and i want to ring again.

knock. ring.

My little sister answers the door and for a second i step outside my short tubby body;i feel like i, ten years ago, am answering the door for myself. She smiles (I smile?), I smile (she smiles?)

...home, or its distant synonym.

The (almost) "Daily" Sexy.

Paradise in Seattle? No no no...just two people in the right place at the right time. I guess if you include the photographer (yours truly) it's three people in the right place at the right time.

Dip Me in Some Salt...

Cubicle People

They're all bored. Quietly, curiously, staring at each other. They have this ability to stare but not really notice there are people all around them. Quietly, seriously, surviving on their own.

It doesn't start this way. Nothing ever starts the way it ends.

When we're little and our fingers are soft and dirty, when our eyes are peeled with the hope that we miss absolutely nothing. We want so desperately to know everything, touch everything, and everyone. We want to ask the person sitting next to us, what that scar on their face is... and we do. We ask...

People, the kind with the wrinkled hands and frown lines, the ones who look through you, not at you. They judge. They judge us when we're three and curiously inquiring about their faces, or their skin. Our lack of filter is repulsive. They tell us to learn some manners, when all we're really asking is "why don't you look like me?" Feeling the wrath of the judgment, we learn what it's like to feel embarrassed, to blush for the first time, and we hide our face in shame. We become afraid to ask questions about things we see. Our minds stop wondering.

We stop noticing, and shortly after we stop caring.

We stop caring that the woman holding a role of drawing in one hand and her coffee in the other probably needs help holding the door open. We don't notice the man sobbing right next to us, snot dripping down his face, tears pouring onto his phone. And we certainly do not notice if someone is asking for help, even when they don't put it in so many words. The only time we actually stop and notice other people, is in the confinement of our four walled studio,where we can judge, without feeling judged by someone because we're judging, and pretend to be better than whatever reality tv show star is making a fool of themselves.

We're all stale versions of our younger selves. Saltine crackers without the salt. Living in cubicles ten hours a day. We go home, make our mcdinners: four ounces of chicken, a fourth cup serving of potatos, and our standard 6oz of better than cheap wine. Like our four-walled studio our life is confined, calculated, measured..whatever.



...and while i struggle with this idea of confinement,I realize that my identity is at stake. I don't want to not notice people, I don't want to see through people. I want to try and enjoy small talk, smile at homeless people, apologize to them for not having change to give them. I'm not really even sure what the point is of all ofthis..all i know is that it's been on my mind. There are way too many ways to avoid human interaction these days, if it's not an ipod, it's a cell phone, if it's not a cell phone it's a book..there are always these acceptable forms of avoidance. In an economy like this..i imagine peopleneed that human interaction, they need to connect, feel, even if it's with a complete stranger.

I could keep rambling, but this entry is just ridiculous babble...i guess what i'm saying is.. I don't want to be an unsalted cracker.

The (almost) "Daily" Sexy.

Who Said only vibrating machines could be sexy?

Seattle is growing up!!!

What with the link light rail and all...it's like an actual urban city.They recently added these nifty machines, that are very similar to the BART (Bay Area Metro Transit) machines, i suppose you can purchase your link light rail tickets, bus passes, and other transportation shenanigans.This wins for sexy today because, they look pretty, and they're new and shiny..and they are changing the face of public transportation for Seattle!



Way to go, Seattle! So while we're on the topic lets see, what cool things has Seattle accomplished in the last 20 years?

1) Frasier--understandably not that cool...but still the city got attention

2) Nirvana-- okay ...too easy..

3) Singles (the movie)-- Bill Pullman? Kyra Sedgwick? Matt Dillon?Bridget Fonda? ..can you think of a better/cooler cast to depict depressing Seattlite loneliness?? I mean maybe if they included Jeanine Garofalo, but I think she was busy being promiscuous (yah i dont know who'd want her either) in Reality Bites.

4)Sleepless in Seattle--worst movie ever...but, Tom Hanks is pretty awesome, still.
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jumping several years...

5) Grey's Anatomy--because who doesn't want to see a bunch of doctors talk about their STDs, and their alcoholic fathers, and self servingly apply every one of their patients' issues to their own lives.

6) America's 50 Greenest Cities : Seattle's ranked 8th...which is pretty amazing if you ask me. Between all the meth heads and the homeless people trashing our streets, Seattle still manages to be adamant about keeping it's environment clean and breathable!

7) A transit system that is not half bad. Sure...the buses stop working on snow days...but whatever, in time these buses will pwn any sort of natural disaster!

I may have missed a few other awesome things...add on if you'd like. bitte!

The (almost) "Daily" Sexy.

Edible Bugs? No way!! Crispy, bed bugs?? OOOOhh yeah..
I keep thinking that there's going to be a point when I'm going to wake up and realize i'm sharing a bed with a hobo (spider). For those of you who know me, you've surely heard my HUGE spider, story...that by the way, after cleaning out my entire room and basement, is still very much MIA. I hate bugs, they're sneaky and they make crinkly sounds when you step on them....

Having said that, this centipede gets the prize for sexyness today. To start, check out those legs in the back (or what I think are legs)...they're just kind of hanging out looking all important and intimidating. Also, his antennas are adorably sloppy.

I felt bad because although centipedes are kind of evil and bite or do something to you that causes pain, this one was kind of like the stoned version of a centipede. It hung out on my floor for a while, like he had no clue what he was doing, or how he got there. I imagine the conversation between his father and him went something like this.

"Son, it's time you learned how to fend for yourself. Go, bite that one girl with the messy room. Teach her a thing or two about pain!"

"You got it pops...right after I finish this hit"
"I said NOW, Junior"

"Alright alright! Wait...what is it you want me to do once I creep into the bedroom?.."

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Alas, Junior lost the battle. I put a cup over him, and he hasn't moved for days.

Joey: 1 Junior: 0

The (almost) "Daily" Sexy.

the sexiest piece of technoloy, i've seen since the laser.


I don't know much about anything tech related, but I do know a thing or two about pretty things...

Apple, for example, makes a cocktail of pretty things. I have all sorts of irrational crushes on their marketing team. When I walk into the Apple store I get butterflies in my stomach. I'm immediately overcome by the urge to run my fingers over everything. It's similar to how I get when I walk into a Microsoft party,wait no, it's not that way at all...

Sometimes I go in to just stare at all the products, and while I'm absolutely entranced by their iwhatevers, all the bustling sounds of sales persons, apprehensive customers, and obnoxious techno music, dissipates, and it's just me, the iMac and love.

But anyhow enough of that...the point is, this Macbook case, is my first "TADS" entry, because just look at it...sure it's not made by Apple ( (*) Speck), but still... If I was a Macbook, I'd totally want that all over me.

If you're wondering, it's totally as satiny as it looks. It's also incredibly durable, has rubberized feet, and it's kind of see through, which is essential because the little Apple logo has to show through when the computer's on (duh). They come in all sorts of colors,too...but they're all like Jolly Rancher colors, and honestly...those are kind of lame. For the serious, elegant type (which totally describes me)...charcoal is the perfect color.

I decided I want satin pillows now, and silk blankets (i know i know..i used to judge people with silk bedding). Also, I'm going to look for this same type of cover for everything I own. Soon my whole room will look like a cave, but at least I'll want to touch everything. Curious?

When sand and gravel aren't doing it for you anymore, you move on to the harder stuff.

When I was little I got really confused when I saw out of the ordinary things like, oh...i don't know, homeless people humping in the park, persons with physical defects, dogs with only three legs.. In my relentless innocence , i'd stare in awe and wonder. Now, 23 years young I tilt my head innocently at things like this:



begin head tilt...


A) The most peculiar thing isn't even that he's eating brick, but that he looks at the brick like Kirtsie Alley would look at a Double Double after not eating for 30 minutes.. ( i know...too soon). Look at those eyes, so animalistic!

B) Is that doctor a 12 year old with a fake mustache? oh wait, no, he's just incredibly famished, he should start eating rocks.. My favorite is his plaid chair. For a moment i thought, okay maybe if he was a pediatrician that'd be totally acceptable. But then i associated a red plaid chair with being a pedophile...

C) The last time my tooth chipped was when i was eating Pita Pit... the first time i chipped my tooth was when i was biting my cuticles before an interview...biting into bricks though, really?

A lot of weird shit goes down in India. Whenever I want to see something that will blow my mind i just do a Live Search (yay Microsoft!) of "Weird Shit that's happened in India." They have their own fucking wonders of the world..seriously, i kind of love it..but i feel like walking around would be similar to walking around Knott's Scary Farm on Halloween.

I honestly want to go to India. These are the things i'd be sure to find upon visiting:

1) a man painting murals using his two feet, both his hands, and his mouth.. all the while playing the flute to charm a snake, which will, in turn, cure whatever skin disease he will most likely have.

2) people thinner than Lindsay Lohan.

3) Mother Teresa and Ghandi impersonators. (similar to Lucille Ball and Elvis impersonators)

4) children with two sets of eyes and no limbs, but can somehow float every other Tuesday of the months with 31 days.

5) Cool versions of the HPV virus

Publicly Humilinaked

I'm the tub of margerine (not

quite butter..yet) in the locker room.

I'm 14 and it will be the first time i

see other girls in their bra and

underwear.

I'm a mess.

they all think i'm fat.

my bAcne is probably oozing out of my sports bra

cellulite...they see it.

My butt is too flat.

My boobs are so much smaller than Carol's, and she's a size 2 and i'm a size 4!

The less developed girls somehow manage to keep their shirt on while they magically take off their sports bra and put on their standard A-cup bra. I watch in awe, while I study their swift moves.

I would like to try this magic.

I grab my bag, walk over to the corner, turn around facing the mauve tiled wall, and silently start the magic, placing my arms inside my shirt and somehow manage to remove my sweaty yellow sports bra without removing my P.E. shirt. Bravo! Task one is done, now i must put on my real bra.

Ten minutes go by and after several attempts, all the girls have left..the 2nd period bell has rung and I'm left alone in my self made puzzle.

After successfully changing without getting naked the first time, I pretty much label myself the Goddess of the Art of Swift Undergarment Removal.

It's Junior year, and I still have bAcne, my breasts are the size of dried apples, and my thighs are the only things that have become "womanly". Everyone is prettier and even the underdeveloped broads have learned to love themselves and claim naked freedom in front of everyone in the locker room, every 1st period.

This locker room is a haven for all pubescent boys...

I'm still in the corner...hiding.

Busty Girl who always tried to beat my 800 yard time, but always failed: Nice job out there today.

I'm in the middle of removing the bra. Arms tucked into my shirt and i'm probably making all sorts of constipated faces.

Me: Oh, yah...ummm thanks!

Busty Girl: Do you need help?

I've finally managed to remove the bra and it's now sitting on my waist as i try to pull it down past my hips, over my shorts...then suddenly in the midst of me saying "no i'm all good" and trying to pull the tight bra down my enlarged hips, my shorts fall to my ankles taking along with them my days-of-the-week underwear. Busty girl laughs at me and as I bend over to pick up my runaway undergarments, my ass brushes against the mauve tile and i jump nearly falling into her.

We share sweat. My butt's been violated by freezing cold tile, and Busty Girl has seen my "secret place."

Needless to say, I never again tried the magical undergarment removal. i de-crowned myself from my Goddess of Undergarment Removal status and I decided that I'd already reached my peak of embarrassment, and after this point everything would be a breeze.

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Present Day:

I get naked almost every day in front of a slew of women who represent every type of body in the world. I like myself...i'm content with my personal "me," and getting naked is just another thing to add to my casual daily routine. I don't have the days-of-the-week underwear anymore, it's kind of worse now, but only because the ones i wear for the gym are ones that i buy in bulk at Target hoping no man ever sees them (for their sake).

Recently, however, I've managed to make my routine traumatic and awkward, once again.

I've ran six miles on the treadmill, my face looks like a cherry and all i want to do is put on my clothes get on that bus home and read. And I know all the rules of the women's locker room:

1) Don't make eye contact

2) Don't stare anywhere for too long

3) Pretend like no one else exists by looking through people not at people

4) Dress quickly, and speak only if spoken to (because if they know the rules like they should, they'd only speak to you in an emergency)

5) Never make friends

6) Never snicker randomly

7) Avoid pulling out your cell phone

I comply to all of these, and as I'm pulling off my bra, i'm pulling it over my head and I hear a familiar voice:

"Joey! Hey!! I thought that was you."

Shit

" Heyyyyyyyy...how's it going? Mark told me you came to this gym, I just never thought i'd see you."

I'm now naked in front of a chiseled body kickboxing instructor who looks like she just walked out of a photo shoot for lululemon . My breasts are small and just kinda hanging out there while I act surprised and excited, even though i'm pissing the horror out through my pants at this terrible coincidence...and like Ignatius Reilly might say, Fortuna has something against me.

Hey you're that girl whose boyfriend I made out with two years ago. Only to find out after the fact that he was dating you all the while. Well isn't this just some adorable reunion!

If this isn't a fucked up version of drunken Karma i don't know what is.

"Yah I teach kickboxing here every Tuesday and Thursday from 5:45- 6:45. I've been here for about two years"

Your boyfriend's saliva stinks of cigarette and rotten vegan food.

"That's awesome....yahh kickboxing scares the beejeezus out of me. Wow, well i'm surprised I haven't seen you! This is about the time I usually come to the gym."

I can't find my bra.

And while i'm making a mental note to always leave the gym before 6:45 on Tuesdays and Thursdays, she smiles at me and says, "kickboxing is amazing. Especially the one i teach, we have all sorts of people, all sorts of experience levels and body shapes"

Translation: Even fat asses like you who can't tell their left foot from their right can do kickboxing!

The small talk continues and on top of having nothing to say to this perfectly normal woman i'm panicking cause she's seen my goods, and now i look like a modern day exhibitionist because i can't find my fucking bra. I remember the mauve tile and thank the gods that my underwear is fastened on me like the seatbelt on the Indiana Jones ride. I'm trying to harden my abdominal muscles to look chiseled and fantastic...but at this point i'm helpless, she knows she's better then me...the only thing i really have going for me is that she doesn't know my other secret.

"Yah, i should definitely try that some time. I bet it's really soothing and fun, and i could definitely use a break from my usual routine."

Awkward head nod.

I find my bra, it's attached to the inside of my blouse. Fantastic. After fastening it on, I quickly pack up, gathering the little pieces of my broken ego scattered all around her.

"Well, I best be going, i can't miss those 70's buses"

"Ohhh you go on the 70s too, well i'll go with you. It'll be nice to not have to ride the bus alone for once!"

I smile, she smiles.

Fuck me and my big mouth.

"Great!! yah, i never take the bus with anyone, so this should be great!"

While riding the bus i wanted so badly to explain to her that it wasn't my fault that her boyfriend decided to cheat on her, and that instead he's just kind of a scumbag in general. I wanted to tell her i didn't know, and that, to be honest, i never thought they were a "thing" because she's kind of manly and he's kind of ....well, feminine. I wanted to say that nothing else had ever happened and that i was stoked that they were still together after two years.

I mostly wanted to tell her that I never make friends at the gym, and intend to keep it that way, and that every Tuesday and Thursday after this week, I'd be avoiding the gym at all costs, because I can't stand small talk...much less, kickboxing instructors who i have nothing in common with beyond a vagina and breasts.

I've seen her at least three times after that...