Waxing Degenerate

I have an announcement to make: My name is MsInklination, and I … am … a jerk magnet.

As you may have learned by now from reading the posts I’ve written about the single life, I have many stories to tell about the men (and I use that term only to avoid cursing) I’ve had interactions with. Some of the stories I haven’t and won’t ever post because it’s just too much for public consumption; it’s cocktail colloquy and shall remain as such.

This evening’s event was a prime example. Typically, I let time pass between the moment a raggedy incident transpires and articulating it so that others can read about it. But tonight a couple hours (as opposed to weeks, months or even years) will have to be enough elapsed time.

So I’m on the phone with a friend and a guy I had a tryst, we’ll name it, calls. It’s important to note that the friend I was talking to introduced me to Mr. Telephone. Before I tell you about a couple hours ago, let me first tell you about a few months ago.

Phone and I were introduced by our mutual friend who thought we’d get along. We started talking regularly immediately. I found him sweet and responsible. He said he found me amazing, as well he should have. The two of us talked and it wasn’t long before relationship talk would creep into our conversations. It seemed like a relationship was brewing, and I wasn’t opposed. But somewhere between meeting his representative and the real him when there were only 20 miles, at most, separating us and not 700, he disengaged and so did I. Ultimately, this arrangement worked best for us. We still spent time together, as we navigated our new interactions.

Things, for me, never quite made it to the friend level. Again, it was his representative I dug, not the he he is.

The exchange we had during the holiday season was the one that finalized for me that he, like so many who’ve preceded him in interrelations with me, was a jerk. I’ll leave the details for the post I’ll write about Phone months from now–let’s just say for now it involved sexual advances, a rejection, a Jimmy Dean D-light, cartoon watching and a promise to call that never happened. (Red flag anyone? Guys have such easily bruisable egos.)

The next time dude and I talked a couple months past The Incident, he proclaimed, in response to my disappointment about how things had played themselves out between us, “We won’t have to worry about that anymore. I have a girlfriend now.”

I suppose I should have pulled my car over on the side of the highway with delight and done cartwheels, but I didn’t. I simply responded, “That’s what’s up.” My friends will tell you if you ever get a “That’s what’s up” from me, I’m not taking anything you’ve said seriously so neither should you take anything that flows from my mouth subsequent to the “That’s what’s up.”

Since then, Mr. Telephone calls me every couple weeks to check in, with and on me. Lucky me.

Fast forward to present …

Tonight took the proverbial cake. Mutual friend and I are chatting away and Phone calls telling me he needs advice. I tell him I’ll call him back. He asks if I really would (valid question), and I affirm him. Five minutes later, he calls again. I think to myself, “If this has to do something with his girlfriend, I’m going to go jump into one of the lake-sized potholes on Fortification Street.”

Slightly annoyed at his persistence, I answered and he tells me he has just one quick question. He’d apparently littered his room with colored candles and needed to know what would make the room its sexiest and most romantic for his girlfriend. Don’t get me wrong: I don’t wish he’d lit candles for me. It’s just … the gall. Honestly, anyone with the audacity to ask his question, considering our background, deserves an answer. So I gave it to him. And I imagine at this very moment, Mr. Telephone and his girlfriend are listening to Boyz II Men’s “I’ll Make Love to You,” as they make shallow people’s love to one another. Predictable romance. Gotta love it. Maybe I should call him right now so his phone will light up and give the room that technological glow, as I’m sure Wal-Mart candles by now have extinguished themselves.


~ by MsInklination on February 23, 2010.

One Response to “Waxing Degenerate”

  1. […] of candles, I wonder if Mr. Telephone’s girlfriend would appreciate a romantic setting accented by White Castle-smelling candles instead of […]

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