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05 October 2010

Guest Post: I Still Got It

As you may or may not have noticed, the lovely Ginger has been absent from these pages for some time now, as she pursues other ventures. For fear that this blog may start bursting at the seams from all the testosterone I'm pumping into it, I reached out to the lovely Skye at Met Another Frog, who helped me recruit a dazzling array of fine female bloggers who have agreed to contribute some guest posts, provided I cease and desist with my constant begging for them to sit on my face. With that, I give you the first of these guest posts, from Lucky Girl of the blog How Very Lucky:

* * * * * * * * * *

There’d been too much disappointment. Heartbreak. And far too many 60-something comb-overs wearing mom-jeans trying to enter my digital domicile in the online mating marketplace.

No, sir. You do not look young. You look exactly your age. Maybe even older. The fact that your ex-wife and last girlfriend were both 30 years your junior doesn’t at all make you more marketable in my eyes. It makes you creepy.

When I find it rising in me, that cynicism, like a pot of rolling milk, rising, erupting into to an overflowing boil, it’s time to remove the pot from the stove. I needed a break. To reconnect with myself, to restore my faith and optimism. To remember that I am not a magnet for losers. But that the interweb sometimes is. Right?

So began my dating vacation.

My allergies were bad that Friday. I decided, impulsively and impetuously as I am wont to do, that a major spring cleaning was the solution. I put on the 30-something girl’s equivalent to my grandmother’s housedress. Minus the dress part. The point is, it wasn’t meant to be seen by anything other than the tile floor I was scrubbing.

But then I decided to wash the rugs and curtains. At the laundromat.

I walked out of my apartment. An unkempt, caramel-skinned man stood on the corner, singing. I smiled. He shifted to Sam Cooke’s “Cupid”, and followed me on my journey to the laundromat. I felt like the Pied Piper.

It was a moment that I should have appreciated. Normally would have appreciated. But instead I was annoyed. Who follows a girl that looks like she should be cleaning your toilet singing “Cupid”? Apparently, this guy does.

I quickened my gait and turned the corner nearing the laundromat. But not before a man sitting on a stoop, smoking a cigarette and talking to his friend stopped me.

"Excuse me. Miss?"

Ugh. What does he want?

He rose. What I’d hoped to be “Can you tell me the time?” or “Do you know how to get to _____” turned out the be this man’s poor attempt at a pick-up.

"So. Um. Yeah. Um."

He was a close talker.

"Yeah. Um. I just wanna talk to you. You know? Um. Yeah. Do you have a quarter?"

Wow. I’m standing there holding a huge bottle of Tide, two rather large and heavy rugs wrapped in a pair of brown silk dupioni curtains (which, incidentally and much to my dismay, later proved their dry cleaning tags correct), and a couple rolls of quarters in plain site. This sucked. But giving him one would be easier than saying no.

I couldn’t quite see over the heaping pile of laundry in my arms, but managed to free a quarter from the roll and hand it to him. And that’s when I saw it. He was holding his penis in his hands, smiling.

"You know what? A simple thank you woulda done it."

Unbelievable. In broad daylight! Jesus.

I duck into the laundromat. I drop the motherload in my arms onto the floor with relief and proceed to pack the rugs and curtains into three super-sized machines, plugging each of them full of the 22-quarters they required. I added detergent and grabbed the small bag I’d brought along. There were three empty seats along the east wall. I chose the middle seat. I reached into my bag, placed a ball of yarn on the seat next to me and started to knit. Yeah, so I’m that lady now. Single. No prospects. Proud cat owner. Proud cat owner who knits.

I know what you’re thinking. Prize. Clearly.

Anyway, I’m minding my own business when a man walks in. There are other seats surrounding the laundromat. All of which are empty. But he has to have the one next to me. The one with my knitting supplies. Damn it.

I begrudgingly move them and slide down to the next chair.

"Excuse me. Miss?"

Jesus, really? Can’t a girl just do her laundry and knit in peace? Did I really just think that? God. I did. This is why I’m on vacation.

I look at him. With attitude.

"Yes?"

"I just want to talk to you. You’re a really beautiful woman."

Oh god. I ignore him. Slip. Slip. Knit. Yarn Over.

"Miss? I said you look beautiful."

Seriously? Pony-tailed, no make-up, dirty yoga pants and a gray t-shirt with a stain looks beautiful? Well, I did get a serenade and a strip tease...

"Thank you."

He goes on. I’m trying to count. I’ve already fucked up this baby blanket three times and had to start over.

I look at him. I look annoyed.

"Please. Just stop…"

But before I can finish, two cops enter. My wishful boyfriend jumps up. He walks coolly around the folding table to the other side of the room, clutching a large gym bag. The officers approach slowly, taking position on opposite sides of the folding table. My laundromat libertine is cornered. He pauses for a moment and then takes off in a tornado, running full-speed into a woman in his path who is slowly sorting whites from colors. She wobbles like a Weeble but thankfully is left standing, terrified and stunned. The cops sway side to side like linemen ready for a tackle. One goes for the bag, the other for him. The Don Juan of Detergent gets away. They get the bag.

I return to my knitting. I guess I can add petty thief to today’s list of Lotharios.

So in summary. I still got it. I don’t need the interwebs. I can attract losers everywhere.

15 comments:

andygirl said...

woman, where do you *live*?

Anonymous said...

A homeless man begging for change is a pick-up? Honey, you need to get out more.

diane verenburg said...

Yikes, Lustmonger is tough territory for commentary! Take it easy, Anonymous 1 & 2. I'm pretty sure Lucky Girl doesn't derive her self-esteem from street weirdos, and can vouch for the fact that she derives it from in fact being beautiful and special and hilarious. I'd venture a guess that at least one of you is a jealous fellow blogger.

In a somewhat related story, one time a homeless dude muttered something about "pretty" in what seemed like my direction, and when I said, "what?", he said, "not you". Ouch.

AmericanBridget (Jones) said...

Lucky Girl,
In terms of dating luck if you didn't have bad luck you might not have any luck at all. Clever, ehh? All joking aside, weirdos come in threes.

Lustmongers,
Loving this blog. Follow me too! http://americanbridget.blogspot.com

best,
AmericanBridget(Jones)

Suzyn said...

I probably get hit on more in the laundromat than anywhere else. Sadly, by men even worse than described here. But I take it where I can.

Caleb said...

Nice work, LG!

Your dating vacation is actually more entertaining than actual dating. I hereby motion to have it continue.

If you were in some twisted, bizarro world where you HAD (and I mean HAD) to pick one of the three guys, who do you go with? Homeless wiener-holder? (I'm going to have to try that one) Laundromat Bandit? Or stay safe and go with the singing lame-o.

This isn't rhetorical; I want an answer.

Caleb

Elizabeth Rose said...

Great post - as a girl who has also had homeless penis flashed at me, I empathise...

However, I also REALLY want an answer to Caleb's question. Who would you choose out of the three? (I'd go for the theiving one - sounds like he had a bit of juice to outrun two cops!)

LuckyGirl said...

andygirl, i *live* in NYC. Chelsea. Gay Mecca. Art Gallery Mecca. Fashion Mecca. Club Mecca. All of this, and the projects, too.

Diane, too bad Ken removed Anon 1. It was pretty mean, but I'm comfortable enough with myself to know "what I got" and "what I don't", and I certainly don't inform my self-esteem from the comments of street vagrants, internet lurkers, or people without the balls to comment using their name. As for Anon 2, well, if they knew me, they'd know that I hardly have to get out more. Still, thank YOU for the kind and loving words, for being my friend and for dangerously inflating my ego :-p
Also, I'm sorry that your homeless guy wasn't addressing you. He clearly wasn't paying close enough attention.

Bridget, luck comes in all forms, and I'm grateful for all of it. These men gave me a story that brought me a lot of laughter and great delight, and that, my dear, is the best luck of all.

Suzyn, perhaps we should do laundry together and put a little wager on it? :-)

Caleb - wow, that's a good question! And before I answer, I should clarify for all of you that the man who exposed himself to me was definitely not homeless. He asked for a quarter merely as a means to draw my attention to his penis. But the singer was. He had a cherubic voice. And there was a sweet, earnest sincerity in his song. So, part of me wants to choose the singing lame-o. Of course, the other, more adventurous part wants to pick the laundromat bandit and live out a Bonnie and Clyde fantasy. Up, of course, to the part where I get shot up to look like swiss cheese, dangling dead from the door of a '34 Ford.

Elisabeth Rose, I hope you got as good a laugh out of yours as I did mine! And yeah, I'd have to assume that this "outrun the cops juice" could yield some benefit in bed...

Thanks for reading and for all of your comments!!!

And Ken? I adore you for inviting me into your home here on Lustmongers.
xxoo
LG

simplysolo said...

LOL!! Hilarious story. Sometimes, I feel like losers have a pact to all come out at the exact same (and wrong) time and bother you...
http://simplysolo.wordpress.com

andygirl said...

@ Diane- BAHAH too funny.

diane verenburg said...

Team Laundromat Thief! (if only as the least worst option)

Something She Dated said...

OMFG What was in the bag???? And if curiousity wasn't enough that should have been a perfect lead in to chatting up the cops. Oh who am I kidding. That's the fantasy me. The real me would have sat there just lurking at them thinking...*sigh* I want me a Mr. Police Officer...*sigh* what were we talking about...??? Oh yeah the bag...seriously...I wonder what he stole?

(Great hilarity and awesome-ness as always)...And good job to ken for knowing how to pick a lady ;)

Anonymous said...

LuckyGirl-

You are one of the most entertaining dating bloggers out there. Looking forward to when your dating vaca is over so that we can enjoy more of your adventures in our fair city. Even if it involves a laundromat penis.

ziazitella said...

Oh, my darling Lucky Girl, you are speaking my language. Can't tell you how many days I've had involving random wierdo magnetism.
And I'm with Something She Dated - what was in the bag?
Great post.

laurel919 said...

So endearing. I rarely laugh at loud when reading, but you got me with your closing line.

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