A shot at love, or at least awkward situations

About eight years ago, I was at a high school party when a girl hit on me. I don’t even think that’s the proper word for it because what happened was that I walked into the room to get my purse and she jumped out, naked. And it was dreamlike, because when you’re in a dream, you know what is going on and what is required of you even though nothing is explicitly stated. She just stood there, with her body yelling, “Here I am, rock you like a hurricane! Except I’m all nudey! Jazz hands!” Only, there weren’t any jazz hands.

I grabbed my purse, zoomed past her and didn’t stop until I was in my car, safely heading home.

What was I supposed to do? Hug her? I could not bring myself to hug a beaver flasher. You wouldn’t excuse a guy who pulled out his wang, like, “Hey, the party’s right here!”

Even if I had been into women, I could never have reciprocated this girl’s advances. Earlier in the evening, she had shared her “poetry” and I use quotation marks because the poetry was terrible and worse, it rhymed. I can’t do the deed with someone who writes rhyming poetry. There are infinite possibilities with the English language and you remove so much of it with that restriction. She had submitted her “work” to the contests that advertise in the back pages of Seventeen, the ones next to “Trace this turtle and you’re accepted into our prestigious art school (once your check clears).”

Rhyming poetry is my deal breaker. You can’t date someone who smokes? Has toes long enough to curl back and fill an elf’s shoe perfectly? Okay, I can’t date anyone who writes on the following: 1) the depths of the soul 2) the alabaster flesh (Isn’t there a Wiccan circle missing you right now, Azrael?) or 3) urinary tract infections (UTI sonnets exist!).

And I’m telling you this because I watched Tila Tequila’s reality show, A Shot at Love. Who’s betting that she ends up with a guy? I am.

Also, I found Nude Poet this evening on MySpace. She now plays the drums in a industrial-goth band called, “Dark Prince’s Left Nut.” Not the real name, of course, but still it has it testicular theme. How many themes can the testicles have? There are only two, after all.

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  1. Butrfly Garden says:

    I had a girl in love with me in my 11th grade social class. She would always sit by me and tell me how pretty I looked and try to play with hair in class (I befriended her before I knew). She creeped me out! Much like your lesbian encounter, I wouldn’t have appreciated the kind of attention she gave me from a guy in class any more than I appreciated her advances. I don’t remember exactly what anymore, but something was said on her behalf that made me tell her to leave me the eff alone and keep her damn hands to herself.

  2. Ha! About 10 years ago, I was at my soon-to-be brother-in-law’s gig at a local bar. I was there with a guy friend (who was not my soon-to-be-husband, but wasn’t a romantic interest, so no biggie). My friend had to leave, as he had a business meeting in the morning. Not 30 seconds later, a woman who had just been up on stage with my brother-in-law (his shtick involves lots of audience participation) improvising lyrics about how she was a lesbian, came over and sat down next to me, leaned really close, and said, “Hi. I like your nose.” My response was, “Um, thanks?” I refused to ask why, pleaded with my brother-in-law with my eyes to rescue me. He said over the mic, “Hey [girl’s name], she doesn’t swing that way.” Classic evening out.

  3. I heard a little excerpt of amateur, rhyming poetry on the radio yesterday and my first thought was “man that sucked, especially the rhymes.”

    I’ve never been hit on by a lesbian before though. I feel like a loser now.

  4. Jesus, this was hilarious. I find myself speculating on the Testicular Theme now.

  5. Oh, The Joys says:

    This post counts as CLASSIC Mona. I love you – but I won’t be flashing you my beaver, so don’t get your hopes up you little vixen.

  6. Mona don’t lie
    Maybe you were just too shy
    To give it a try


  7. hello insomnia says:

    butrfly: hairplaying is a gateway drug.

    jmc: That killed me. I cannot top that.

    mayberry: don’t feel bad, I’ve never been bossed around by a vice-president’s minion.

    otj: damn.

    crystal: how did you know! you see right through me!

  8. Wow, what a weird way to hit on someone. I don’t really think jumping out naked would have worked for anyone.

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  10. Oh, jeez. It is going to take me all day to get that visual outta my head! šŸ™‚

    I’m glad you got out alive –

  11. Chickenbells says:

    Ohmygoodness…that is a whole lot of scary girl! I think I may have run too…although, I might have done it during the poetry part of the evening…

  12. Yeah, I had a straight roomate dude who let me borrow his phone to call my dad. About two minutes into my call he walked up behind me and stood there till I turned around. He was wearing only a sock. He really just wanted his phone back, but it was still hard to explain my reaction to my old man. Sadly, I had seen his cock way before I even moved in that house. The same night I saw the vagina of some chick in my manditory drug class. It was a weird week.

  13. This is me utterly in love with you.

    But not naked.

    And also not rhyming.
    Because I have bad timing.

    Oh damn.

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