Sunday I received an irate note in my Nerve inbox simply stating..
'Well.. are you not going to respond? This is my 3rd and final notice!!"
I checked out the accompanying profile, and realized it's from some chick I had written to a few weeks ago. Apparently she had replied to me TWICE and never heard back from me. I immediately searched my inbox, but I couldn't find her letters. Such strange going's on. Had they just disappeared into thin air, or was there a more sinister explanation. It actually made me wonder whether this was an isolated incident. Just how many women have responded to my missives without me knowing about it?
I replied apologetically, stating I had absolutely no idea what happened, but it seemed her letters had gotten lost in the mail somehow. I suggested we waste no more time and meet up later that night. She agreed. We decided on Caf? Pick me up on the corner of 9th street and Avenue A, a favorite spot of mine.
To prepare for our meeting, I went back to check out her profile in greater detail. I remembered it now, specifically because she had chosen for her main quote, a line from one of my favorite Tom Waits songs. Aside from that, she was decidedly cute. Her pictures were straightforward and clear, with none of that 'open to interpretation' style of photography a lot of these profiles have going on. The only thing that worried me was the height thing. I'm 6 foot, and it stated that she was 5 foot, which to me is verging on midget like proportions. I was a tad concerned we might look like Mutt and Jeff walking down the street together. Still, I suppose she could always wear heels.
I arrived there a bit early, and took a seat by the windows. The caf? overlooks Tompkins Square Park, and is prime for people watching. I got myself a coffee and watched the humanity pass by, steady and insistent like an ocean of hipster crashing up on my shore.
Shortly after I had taken my first sip of brew, I spotted her heading towards me as she was crossing the street. She looked damned good. In mid stride, she caught me staring through the window and waved, flashing a smile so actively charming it disarmed me instantly. She sat down, and we made our introductions. I offered her a drink of some sort, and she appreciatively accepted, requesting a java with a little skim milk. I procured the beverage and we instantly dove into conversation.
I have to admit, I felt a little discombobulated at first, as I wasn't expecting her to be as attractive as she was. Thick, longish chestnut hair, pulled back stylishly, flawless olive skin, big brown eyes? As she took off her jacket, I could get an eyeful of her bodacious bazooms. I tried to avert my eyes as best as I could, and play it cool though.
I must say, I liked the cut of her jib?
We discussed a whole host of topics, ranging from the Yankees dropping the ball on the whole Santana situation, to our favorite Waits album, to how colossally overrated Juno is (..of course I never even saw it, but I played along like I did). Mid-way through the conversation, I realized that this date was going fantastically well. There were none of those 'uncomfortabl e silences' so common to these types of deals. That's not to say that I need to fill up every second of a date with meaningless blather, I know how throw in a dramatic pause or two to keep the right amount of anticipation in the air.
I know a thing or two about a thing or two.
After awhile, she suggested we go take a walk through Tompkins Square Park, so we both waded into the hipster ocean, further and further out 'til I could barely see the caf? off in the distance.
We continued chatting about Updike, Roth, and Salinger, and how at one time I made an attempt to read the entire canon of 20th century Anti-Hero fiction, but never made it past Rabbit, Run. She disclosed that she'd never been able to finish 'Confederacy of Dunces' and I urged her to do so, stating that she simply needed to get past the first hundred pages before she'd 'get it'.
Eventually, the banter slowed down, and she asked coyly whether I'd like to check out her apartment which was ?just around the corner??Well, normally I wouldn't have, it's a bit much for a first encounter I feel, but I felt particularly comfortable around her especially for a first date, and she did have a colossal chest of sweater treasure, so I thought to myself ' what the hell' and said ok...
We climb up the flight to her apartment, and walk into the typical speck of an apartment, you'd find on the lower east side. Basically one room with a large bed stuck in the corner. It never fails to amaze me how important beds are to women. I mean, mine is just a mattress and a box spring. Sometimes I have sheets on it, sometimes I don't. In fact, once I went a year on a mattress where half the springs had collapsed. It looked more like a listing life raft than a mattress. Her bed was an elaborate affair, all done up with an assortment of pillows of various kinds, a poofy duvet cover, thousand thread count sheets, you know - the works.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, as there was no furniture around. She asked me if I wanted to hear some music, and I said fine ? silently wondering what her selection would be. She proceeded to put on some Wilco, followed by a bit of Bright Eyes. Both bands aren't what I would call favorites of mine, but at least it wasn't Feist. At this point the conversation had devolved into the usual mating dance mambo..
It's funny how even the most intelligent and in depth discussion between two highly educated and elevated minds always seems to winds up here. Inching closer, ensconced in a heavy silence pregnant with expectation, a hand on a thigh, a caress of the arm, and it's on!
We made out on that elaborate bed of hers for most of Bright Eyes' Cassadaga.
She had an easy touch, definitely not a grabber or a pincher, which eased my mind that she wouldn't be a 'meat mangler'. She kissed very well, excellent tongue usage, with no face sucking asphyxiation going on.
After about twenty minutes of pretending like I was too suave to stampede directly towards her scrumptious melons, I allowed myself to squeeze the Charmin. They were fabulous. Annoyingly though, during the entire session, I had incredible gas, and needed to concuss a beefy fart in the absolute worst way. With every move I made, I'd have to clench my buttcheeks together tightly to prevent rippage!! This is one of the reasons I hate first dates ? the gas. Usually, you can release the methane when you're both out walking in the street, but in a miniscule shoebox of an apartment, it gets trickier.
I excused myself to go to the bathroom, adjusted my gargantuan tumescence and meekly limped towards the door. As soon as I shut it behind me, I realized that the apartment was so tiny, she'd probably be able to hear every move I made in there. I wound up having to sit down on the can, wad up a bunch of tissue and muffle my asshole while I exploded rectally. As I was sitting, I noticed she had all her medications up by the sink, since there was no cabinet. So of course, I snooped through the various bottles?
'Hmmm.. Claritin, that's ok? More allergy stuff.. something for head aches? Vitamins?good .. good?Hmmm.. What's this? from a shrink??C ? L ? O ? ?..'
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!.. 'Is everything alright in there??'
I immediately fumbled about, pulling my pants up, whilst trying to put the bottle back exactly where it was?
'Yeah, be out in a sec..!!'
I flushed the toilet, and sat back down on the bed..
'Yeah fine.. I'm great.. Why do you ask?? '
Of course I was wondering what the hell was in that bottle? C- L ? O ? ? I thought I saw a flash of zap, or pine.. I couldn't tell for sure.. Damn, she had interrupted me before I could read it properly. I figured when I got home, I could enter the first few letters alongside the key word 'medication&# 39; on Google and see what I came up with.
We made out for a bit longer, stopping right before we reached the friendly the town of Blow Job, and made plans to meet up very soon. We kissed goodbye, and I head out to Avenue B and caught myself a cab back home.
As soon as I could get to my computer, I Googled ?C ? L ? O ? .. medication?. The first thing that popped up was Clozapine. That seemed right, I could swear that was it.. At least I was almost positive it was? CLOZAPINE. I was sure of it!! So I clicked on it and discovered that Clozapine is?
?the only FDA-approved medication indicated for treatment-resistant schizophrenia and for reducing the risk of suicidal behavior in patients with schizophrenia ?