Well behaved women rarely make history.- Marilyn Monroe
Okay, dear loyal reader(s), I know what you're thinking so far. "Well that Jane... she's kind of... well... boring." Yes, I know. I have been on my high horse the last two posts so I have decided to share something with all of you. I am not proud of this story, per say, however, I feel that it is an entertaining one to share with you. Names and places have been changed to protect my anonymity and the anonymity of anyone else involved.
About a year ago, I was cruising around the lovely city of Manhattan. I had just gone to see a theatrical production with some of my friends and it was a beautiful summer night. The show ended around 10 pm and we decided to travel to a few bars before we took the train back to our homes. We found ourselves in a lovely little joint I will call the Fox and Bugle.
We sat down at the bar and ordered drinks. I will share a little secret with you readers, I was underage at the time, as were my companions. As we were approached by several gentleman, we decided to create little alter egos for ourselves, to match the personalities on our false identification.
Now I was a little upset at this point in time. The guy I had been casually seeing/hooking up with was about to leave for the remainder of the summer and as we were both to return to different universities, it had been "adieu" to our fling. It was also his birthday as of 12 midnight, so I had left the bar a few times to speak to him on the phone, leaving my friends to deal with the men in the bar.
Now, there was one extremely attractive man. He was the antithesis of my type. He had spiky blond hair and a sleeve of tattoos. Those of you who know me will attest to the fact that I am into more straight laced, awkward types. This smooth, tattoooed man was foreign to me. However, when the face/body is good you cannot deny it; this boy was blessed with some good looks.
Men like this never pay me much attention. I assumed this would be a similar scinereo being that I was distracted, constantly on the phone, told him I was a student at Harvard Law School, and paid him very little attention aside from the moments where he was purchasing rounds of shots for my friends and myself. However, I was wrong. Apparently, the tattooed man was enamoured with me. (Let this be a lesson to you ladies-- when you pay them the least attention, that's when they want you the most. I often forget this.) He questioned my friend each time I left, begging her to tell him I didn't have a boyfriend.
This is all very interesting, and I was almost intoxicated by this. I gave up on my inhibitions and decided to go outside my comfort zone for the night. We started cozying up and it wasn't long before we were kissing and whatnot. We returned to the bar shortly after to get more drinks. This is where the conversation began.
I asked him where he was from. He told me he came from a small town in Westchester County. Luck have it, my father is a very important official from this small town in Westchester. When I asked him if he knew who he was, he responded matter-of-factly "Yes, he is my boss." I retorted right back saying "Yes, he is my dad." A look of realization overcame him and his eyes got wide. "I know exactly who you are. I clean your Dad's office every night. I dust a picture of you on his desk." With sheer horror I turned back to him, "You are my Dad's janitor?!?"
This was the end of this cozy little rendez-vous. For one, this picture is an 8 x 10 of my high school senior portrait, which conveniently displays my graduation year on the frame. This probably tipped him off that I wasn't a student at Harvard Law School. Secondly, the thought that I had just made out with a janitor was enough to make me want to stick my finger down my throat and vomit all over Union Square.
That is how I learned two things: a) I shouldn't lie to random men in bars, b) I should not stray from my "type", no matter how attractive he may seem. I am doing pretty well on B.
kisses,
Jane
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