And you’re the asshole

When I met you exactly one week ago today at Randazzo’s Clam Bar, I was into you, OK.  I didn’t want the taller, fitter, man five years your junior who sat across from you.  I wanted YOU, fifty year old, bald, out of shape, YOU…because you were confident, you were charismatic, you were comfortable in your own skin, but mostly, YOU WERE BEAUTIFUL, and goddamn it, that’s sexy.

And you seemed to be into me too.  You asked me to go for an after dinner stroll, not those other girls (you said they were weird), you complimented me on my appearance & sparkling wit, you playfully touched my hair, you kissed me goodnight, you gave me your contact information.  Monday when I e-mailed you inviting you to meet up with me tonight at the comedy show at Park Slope’s Postmark Cafe and you said YES, I was excited like a schoolgirl.

And then today I get a last minute, very formal e-mail saying you won’t be there.  No reason why.  Of course I responded saying “I’ll miss you” with a sad face emoticon, because YES, I’m still going to the event.  Yeah, I was looking forward to seeing you, but if there’s some reason why you don’t wanna see me,then fuck you.  I’ll spend this evening chatting up somebody else because you are soooooooooo not the only game in this town.

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