I actually wrote this in like, August but whatever.
So, today I decided it would be beneficial to clean out my disgusting truck. I’m utterly horrible about letting it get trashed out before I clean anything from it. My friends and I have a little theory about this being the reason two out of five guys do not call me back after riding around in my car. I maintain it’s because I don’t sleep around, which men tend to figure out around the third date, (other than that horrifying, gassy one night stand my friends won’t let me live down) but my friends say it’s because my car is disgusting and terrifies innocent “men.” Whatever. Show me an actual man in Lubbock, Texas and I’ll give you a thousand dollars. I have yet to meet one of these “man” creatures and have had to settle with horny college boys who act obnoxious and annoy the hell out of me. Anyway, so I decided to clean out my car while I was getting gas and proceeded to throw away all the coke bottles and waters and fast food bags and straw wrappers. I found twenty bucks under the seat which was fun. As I leaned far into the back to reach around under the seats in hopes of finding more cash, (human nature) I heard some guy say, “hey, need some help?” I figured he was talking to someone else because only a moron would need help cleaning out their truck, so I didn’t pay any attention to him. But then I felt a pat on my lower back and the guy said, “hey.” I whipped around with a half full, moldy soda bottle in hand, ready to defend myself against a possible rape.
“What?” I said. I instantly wasn’t as irritated as I noticed he was an utterly stunning piece of man meat.
“Do you need some help?” he asked.
“Well, I’m just cleaning out my truck,” I told him. “If by help, you actually mean do it for me, then I’ll gladly accept.”
“Sure,” he said and grinned. He had dimples in both cheeks. I decided I must take this marvelous creature to Chimys. Or even better, somewhere that didn’t require shirts. I attempted to scope out his man body to determine if he had the abs of a god. Judging by his bulging biceps and forearms, I decided he probably did. I realized I was being a total slut and told him I was going in to get a soda. I went inside, got a soda and came out to find him bent in the very back of my car, sorting through trash, putting it in a big pile. As I sipped my coke zero and marveled at his butt, I mentally hooted that everyone always teases me about my car scaring guys away, yet I had the cutest one of the year cleaning out the disgusting thing. I got bored watching him and decided to go ahead and help. We chatted for a while. He told me he was a civil engineer major and would be graduating in May. He had a dog named Stanley and a twin sister. He had a motorcycle and pointed to his hybrid he had parked at the front of the gas station. Upon further questioning, I realized he was an uber liberal democrat like me, and decided I had probably just met my future husband.
“I was watching you cleaning your car when I got here,” he said, “I thought it was funny that you were whistling to yourself. You’re really cute, you know.”
I was very aware of my running shorts, a white-trash tank top, greasy hair, and sweaty armpits.
“Ummm, it gets better,” I said like a moron, “I just got back from the gym. I’m kind of…sweaty.” Mental palm to forehead. I am a dork.
He grinned at me and I noticed he had perfectly straight teeth and his eyes were super blue. I’m the biggest sucker alive for extremely attractive guys especially buff ones with blue eyes. I reminded myself not to drool and decided I would definitely be getting his number.
“So how’d you get your car this messy anyway?” he asked, “this is pretty bad.” He grinned at me again and I had to resist leaping across my side of the car and ravishing his face.
“Well, I live in this thing so it gets messy pretty easily.”
He gave me a really weird look, one of nearly pity. He stopped cleaning the floor and stood up. Confused, I stood up and met him on the other side of the car. He pulled out his walled and offered me a twenty.
“Ummm, shouldn’t I be paying you?” I asked, completely confused as to what this guy was doing.
“Seriously, it’s OK,” he said, “we all go through hard times. I wish you the best of luck.”
I just kind of stood there, looking at him, not quite sure what was going on. It figured the hottest man in Lubbock would turn out to be a raging psycho.
He looked away awkwardly and sat his twenty dollar bill on the seat of my car.
“I’m pretty sure there are shelters around here you could stay in,” he said, “I admire you for staying in school through this. I wish we could have met at a better time in your life. You’re really funny and cute.”
With that, he turned abruptly and walked back to his hybrid. What the hell? I tried to remember if I had met him somewhere before and done something dumb. I got back into my car, seriously confused, and tried to figure out what Mr. Hotty’s problem was. Then it dawned on me. I had told him, “I live in this thing.” I began shrieking with laughter like a maniac. He probably thought I meant I literally lived in my car! I don’t live in the damn thing; I’m just in it so much because I’m so busy and have to go to ten different places a day.
“Oh my gosh!” I laughed to myself, “holy frick!” My laughter quickly dissipated as I realized because of a simple misunderstanding I had just missed out on dating one of the hottest men on the planet. My humor was quickly replaced with annoyance. What an idiot. What kind of homeless woman would have fake boobs and a huge collection of fast food trash in her car? I had told him of my passion for Chimys. Those damn margaritas are $5.50 a piece. What kind of homeless person could afford that? What kind of homeless person would have just put forty dollars into her truck? Hell, if I was homeless I wouldn’t have cleaned the trash out of my truck; I would have left it there to cover up with during the chilly fall nights. And what kind of homeless person throws out perfectly good week old potato chips? Gosh. And hello, I have a rather cheerful disposition and I have yet to find a homeless person with that kind of personality. Naturally, just when I find a guy who doesn’t annoy me, is cute as hell, and is charmed by my stunning wit, he assumes I’m homeless just because I told him I live in my car.
No comments:
Post a Comment