The other day I was getting lunch on Broughton Street – it was the week of Thanksgiving, so things were a little dead, actually. I don't eat on Broughton Street much anymore. Too long of a walk, actually. I used to work close enough to casually walk down here and eat something.
Well, Friday I was ordering and someone said "Hi, Leesa." And no, he did not grab my ass. I looked up, and I saw a "friend" with his wife. I keep saying that I screwed practically all married men in Savannah, and although that is a gross overstatement, it sometimes feels that way. But even though I feel that way, I rarely run into people that I have slept with. Part of it is me switching jobs. Well, that's most of it.
Anyway, I ran into someone . . . with his wife, of all people.
So we start our pleasantries. The conversation, with name changes, went something like this:
Ex-Married Guy Friend: Hi, Leesa.
What Ex-Married Guy Friend Meant: Hi, Leesa. Remember me? We fucked.
Leesa: Hey George. I have not seen you in forever. How are you?
What Leesa Meant: Oh my God, I don't want to see you here now. Do I have to order a salad now? I am really hungry. Do I have to sit with you and wifey? Can someone just come in and kidnap me?
Ex-Married Guy Friend: I am great. This is Lara, my wife. Do you remember me telling you about her?
What Ex-Married Guy Friend Meant: Don't tell Lara that we fucked, okay? Please let me get away with this.
Leesa: Hi, Lara. Nice to meet you. As I recall, you are a real estate agent.
What Leesa Meant: Good. Your ass is bigger than mine.
Ex-Married Guy Friend: So, you still work at the Girl Scouts?
What Ex-Married Guy Friend Meant: I lost touch with you. Do you still want to fuck in the afternoons?
Leesa: No, I have not worked there in ages. I am with [insert name of company; for the reader's sake, make it a kick-ass company].
What Leesa Meant: No, Lara, I have not fucked your hubbie in ages.
We went on, in this polite, tiptoe through the manure conversation for several grueling minutes.
Monday, Ex-Married Guy Friend called me and asked me out for "lunch." When I said it wasn't going to happen, he proffered "how about a BJ?"
Two things come to mind: (1) Why don't guys think BJs are sex? (2) Why the hell did he call me?
Although I can't answer the first question, I do know the second. I was so nervous when I was talking with Ex-Married Guy Friend; I know I was twirling my hair into ringlets. It is a nervous habit, but some guys think it is some "come hither" move, so Ex-Married Guy Friend got mixed messages.
And I keep calling him Ex-Married Guy Friend. I am not implying that he is no longer married. Just that he is no longer one of my "friends." And why do I call former lovers friends? They really were not friends, most of them at least.
Next time I see Ex-Married Guy Friend, should I ask him why he thinks BJs are not sex in front of wifey?
The kids are all right. At least ‘my’ kids are
5 hours ago