I’m going to post a running review of my “friends” at It’s Just Lunch. I’ve had this in my Drafts for many months, but for other reasons that I can’t get into right now, I need to put this review up. Each time there’s a new date or more communication, I plan on appending this entry and making the date current again. You will see this entry a few more times until May, the end of my dreaded contract with these jerks. It’s Just Lunch will be referred to as “IJL” after this point.
May 2005
Interviewed with Melanie. Spent about an hour with her where she filled out the “intake sheet” which is detailed information on what you want in a mate. She told me that their clients were mainly doctors, lawyers and congressmen. She said she I would get a call with my matches shortly. I did receive this call and they asked me my availability for the rest of May. I told them I would be in Europe, and that I was coming back on Wednesday May 25, to not set me up for the 26th, but that I would be ready for a date by the 27th. They set me up for lunch on the 26th anyway, and I got the confirmation call while I was at the airport waiting to fly to Paris. With only 20 minutes to board a flight to Europe, I was unable to call them back to remind them that Thursday the 26th was not a day that I was available.
On the flight home from Europe, all our luggage was lost. I got home at 11 p.m. Wednesday night to find that my contractor was still working in my apartment, which was now a mess in a sea of sawdust, and all my furniture was in the living room. He didn’t leave until after midnight, which was basically 5 a.m. for my jet-lagged self. I was in no condition to go to lunch, so I canceled. They never called to reschedule, eventually telling me that the man I was to meet had “expired.” Does that mean he’s dead?
Date 1: June 2005; StanderUpper
My first date was scheduled with the StanderUpper and he never showed up, after I had spent $12 for a cab to the highly inconvenient location of Georgetown. Another $12 to get back home and I was thoroughly irritated. IJL never really tells you why the other person didn’t show, they dance around it, use the word “misunderstanding” and don’t give you a straight answer. They set the date up for another time, and while he was pleasant enough, his yellow teeth were where I would draw the line. Note to self: Call them and ask them to add white teeth to my “intake sheet.”
Date 2: June 2005; IJLHater
I arrived at the restaurant and asked for the reservation for the “Velvet and IJLHater” party. The hostess said she had a reservation for “Velvet and Ryan” but not “Velvet and IJLHater.” I called IJL to ask them who exactly I was meeting. They put me on speaker phone while they discussed it, and then said, “We’re all in agreement, you are meeting Ryan.” I said, “Are you sure? Because in all our discussions you told me his name was IJLHater.” They put me on hold, came back and said that it was IJLHater.
When he arrived, I still had to ask him his name. Yes, it was IJLHater. This made him launch into a disseration on how bad IJL is, recanting the story on their hardcore sales technique. He said that he didn’t want to write them a check that day and they sent a courier to his house to pick up the check. He said that the reason they don’t take credit cards is because they are a sucky service, do zero in the way of matchmaking and he’s just trying to get through it. He gave me his number, but even though he might be right about how bad IJL is, I never called him because his negativity was over the top. As a sidenote, IJL described him as very athletic, and I think that his physique would be more of the “athletic beer drinker” type. Also, he didn’t eat with me, forcing me to eat alone, which I hate.
While IJL tried to set up this next date, they referred to him by two different names – IJLLaywer and Walter. When I called the office and left a message for the semi-competent girl working there, the other stupid girl called back yelled into my voicemail, saying “We don’t even have a Walter here.” That’s hardly an excuse, because it doesn’t mean they wouldn’t screw it up anyway. Also, when they asked me for my availability, I said, “Any day but Thursday” and they set me up for THURSDAY. This is not the first time this has happened, nor will it be the last.
Date 3: IJLLawyer; July 2005
We met for drinks. This date was nondescript. He was nice enough, but totally not my type. He was, however, the only lawyer I dated. Remember that IJL said that Laywers made up the majority of their clients.
Date 4: GreekFreak; July 2005
The biggest freak so far. He also happened to be Greek. Hence the nickname. We sat down for lunch and he refused to look at the menu, ordering things that didn’t exist in a “When Harry Met Sally Mode” (I’ll have this but this on the side…) The waiter made suggestions to him based on what he was asking for, but, he refused to look at the places the waiter was pointing. When the waiter finally got our order and left, he mumbled “fucker” as well as a few other expletives, under his breath. The waiter was really being patient with him, so I was surprised. He then said, “I’m really very low maintenance.” Yeah, ok. It turns out he is from Baltimore (why would I drive there for a date, come on!) and he thinks “women in D.C. are more interesting.” Then he launched into a story about how he went out with a bunch of people and was buying everyone lapdances and he had these strippers calling him. (What? Where am I? His foot was so far in his mouth I could only see the kneecap.) He was 45, and told me that he just moved out of his mom’s house, but he still eats dinner there every night. Yup. He’s Greek all right. The funny part of this was that my friend Sara came to the restaurant and ate lunch there with our other friend. They were sending me text messages the entire time. The unfunny part is that they told everyone at the bar the whole story. I stupidly exchanged numbers with him and he called me 6 times without me calling back before he got the hint.
Date 5: DoubleDutch; July 2005
Another one like Date 3 who was nice enough, but in his late 40’s and way out of my age range. When the bill came, I gave him a $20, even though I only had a $7 salad and a water. He paid the bill with a credit card and kept my $20. By all calculations, I didn’t think the bill could be more than $25, so I really thought that was weird. I even said, because I couldn’t help myself, “Was that enough?” And he said, “It about covers half.” Sure dude. Whatevs.
Date 6: HarleyRider; August 2005
The date (#6 of my 14 date obligation with Its Just Lunch) was in Bethesda at 1 at Cafe Deluxe with HarleyRider. The hostess informs me that they dont take reservations so its not like I can go sit at the table and wait for him to come to me or have him already be sitting there. I have to guess who he might be in the waiting area. And based on their track record, it could really be just about anybody – the guy with no front teeth, the midget, the conjoined twins (although they would probably count that as two dates,) the big fat guy wearing a nametag from his job at Midas. I see this guy at the bar. I’m thinking there is no way it can be the dude because hes way hot. But at that moment he turns completely around and says my name. And I about died. Fucking finally. Slot machine sound byte please.ding ding ding ding ding.
I sit next to him at the bar and I see that hes holding a Harley helmet. (Christ, its like Ive now left the slots and just put all my money on the winning number at the roulette table.) He tells me he rode his Harley V-Rod here. (And now I just got 21 at the Blackjack table.) Of course I share my Harley story and all. We go sit down and order, have a fine lunch. Turns out that he also drives a speedracer, also has a Harley and also has a brother living in Michigan. He lives in Rockville and works downtown; I live downtown and work in Rockville. What the hell is going on right now?
After lunch we go out to the parking lot and hes like, Want to see the bike? So I say ok, of course, and we go over there. Were discussing accessories and all that fun stuff, then the rest of the conversation goes like this:
Him: So are we going to sit here making more small talk or are you going to give me your number?
Me: Uh, I’m going to give you my number. (Like how I stutter? I’m really not slick.)
(we each take out our phones)
Him: Ok, shoot.
(At this point we each exchange numbers and program them in our phones.)
Him: Ok, so call me if you want to do something sometime.
Me: No.
Him: No?
Me: I dont call boys. If you want to see me, you have to call me.
Him: Can I see your phone for a second?
I give him my phone. Is he about to erase his number?
Him: Here, I’m calling myself, its about to beep, say hi. He hands me the phone.
Me: Hi, I’m standing here with you in the parking garage, so, hi.
Him: There we go, now Ill have to call you back and you wont have to be the one who called first.
Is that charming? I think its quirky enough to be classified as charming.
Finally a good looking guy. He wasn’t as tall as I would like my man, but after scraping the bottom of the IJL barrel for so long, I was happy to have lunch with him. He called me once, but really wanted me to call him, using the line, “Well, if you ever want to get together, call me.” I’m used to and frankly prefer men who are more aggressive than that.
Date 7: EmailBuddy; August 2005
This guy was pretty cool. We established early on that we would not date because he is a smoker and despite the fact that he demanded IJL tell his dates that he’s a hardcore smoker, they choose not to, knowing that they wouldn’t be able to match him up with anyone. We stayed in touch via email and exchanged horror stories.
The staff has now changed at IJL and new people are calling me. The people I used to work with are no longer calling me. But they may as well be the same because when they called for my availability, I said, “Any day but Friday” and they set me up for Friday which I then have to change. Another note to self: Never breath the day of the week to these incompetents for which I am unavailable.
Date 8: DateEight; November 2005
I stopped using real names. We went to Panache between Connecticut and 17th on Desales. For anyone who doesnt know where that little street is, its between L and M.
I got there and the bar was packed. I’m hoping Date Eight is not mixed in the mess of Eurotrash at the bar, but then I remember the lunch people told me they made reservations for us under both our names. This waiter asks me if I need help as there really isnt a host. I say, I’m meeting someone here and I believe we have a reservation. He goes to look. I can see that they only have a whopping 3 reservations on the screen. I give him my name. He shakes his head. So I give Date Eights name. Shakes his head no again. Surprise – no reservation. Like I’m shocked at this point that they’ve slaughtered yet another detail.
The waiter says, Well is he here? At this point, ANYONE could have played it cooler than I. On the other occasions I have been asked this question, I always screw it up. Immediately I stick my foot in my mouth up to my knee and start blabbering about how I’m being set up and I don’t know what he looks like. The waiter is laughing and says, Blind date! Fun! I said, For you maybe. Once this line of questioning starts, they inevitably ask about the friend who set us up. Its too complicated to explain that Ive entrusted my dating life to a bunch of sorority girls with double digit IQs. I decided to just take a table, half to get my foot out of my mouth and half to make sure I didn’t push my foot in any further.
He arrived shortly after I did, and the same waiter (who ends up not even being our waiter) brought him to the table. I felt instantly comfortable. I don’t know exactly what it was or how to put my finger on it. Last night with Steve1, when I saw him I wasn’t attracted to him and knew I would never be attracted to him. He put his hand on my knee or touched my elbow and I almost cringed. But tonight with Date Eight, it was more like, Ok, I could see myself maybe dating this guy. I think I’m at the point where I’m now conscious of that first 10 second impression rule. Alas, he didn’t touch my elbow or knee so that I could test my theory.
Again, there aren’t a lot of details. We have a lot of odd similarities. We are both the youngest of three, he grew up two towns away from me, just over the N.Y. border, parents still married. Although, his parents seem relatively sane compared to Jekyl and Hyde over there at the Velvet Family Compound. We drank, ate, had good conversation all the way through and that was that. He was going to meet friends, I was going home so I could go to bed. I’m planning a day of Christmas shopping tomorrow. I must buy all sorts of cute clothes for little baby.
On the way out of the restaurant, the waiter shook both our hands and said, Bye Velvet! I was surprised he remembered my name so I said, Wow, you’re good. And he said, So are you. What? What has he heard?
Date 9: LowTalker; December 2005
On the first attempt at this date, IJL sent me to Georgetown on a damn Friday again, and he didn’t show up. With the new cab surcharge for gas, I spent $25 for the cab ride. So annoying. I called and bitched, and of course, they just say something neutral like, “It was a misunderstanding.” They never admit that they screwed up or that the guy didn’t show up. Finally they reschedule, for a Saturday now, when I have specifically requested they don’t ruin my weekend prime nights with this garbage.
So, either I was getting sick of IJL at this point, or he was especially annoying, but this was one of the worst dates I’ve had. Initially, they started to show us to a table, and the night dates are not supposed to be dinner, only the lunch dates are for food. At night you are supposed to have a drink, and they stress, one drink. I said, Wait, we’re supposed to go to the bar, and besides, I already ate. It was awkward, mostly because he had several chances to stop them from showing us to a table, but didn’t. So I had to do it. I hate that. And then we made our way back to the bar. I just didn’t feel like having a long drawn out dinner with him. That turned out to be the smartest idea Ive had in weeks. Two minutes after meeting this guy I knew I wanted out. He ordered a port wine and the bartender forgot to pour it. (Psychic Message sent to Bartenders: Come on people! Hurry up! I want out of here!) Finally he asked the other bartender and she poured it for him. When he took a sip of it he held it in his mouth with his eyes closed for about 15 uncomfortable seconds.
My first order of business was to ask him what happened last week when he didn’t show. He said they told him 8:00. So he got there and I was gone, by an hour and a half, as they told me 6:00. I hate them. They are the worst excuse for a matchmaking dating service ever.
He is probably no more than 18 inches away from me and everything he said I had to ask, What? He would raise his voice to repeat what he said, then retreat to the low mumbling again. Very frustrating. This is the gem of the night:
Date#9LowTalker: So, how long have you been doing It’s Just Lunch?
Velvet: About 6 months. How long have you been doing it?
Date #9LT: Doing what?
Who has THAT short of a short term memory?
I think that this man had not been briefed that these evening dates were only for a drink. This became very awkward. When I realized that he was just going to continue mumbling story after story that I got sick of straining to hear, I had to break the tension. I excused myself to go to the bathroom and the weirdest thing happened. I thought the heel of my boot broke when I was walking to the bathroom because something felt weird with my left leg and it felt like my knee was hyperextending. I made it to the bathroom thinking that I was so fucking bored with this man that half my body was in a coma. I tried to walk it off in the bathroom – it wasn’t like the pins and needles of a sleeping foot or leg – this was totally like nothing I have ever felt before.
When a stall became available, I went in to pee. Somehow, as I was crouching to sit, the bum leg gave out and I fell onto the toilet. Only me. I swear. I started to become worried at this point that I had Bells Palsy of the leg or something. I stood up and I felt very weird. I paced inside the bathroom for a couple minutes, checked the heel on my boot, poked my leg in various places, and started to recover a little. When I got back to the bar, Date#9LowTalker seemed to make a statement about me taking a while or something so I said there was a line. (Yeah, behind my peg leg.) And he said, But the place is empty. Whatever. I can’t elaborate with him anymore.
As I sat back down, I said, Well, I need to get going. I’m supposed to meet some friends in a bit. He said, What time? I said, Oh, they are gathering soon I would imagine. Then as I made a move to reach for the check, he launched into a new topic of conversation.
Me (as I’m reaching for check:) So, I need to meet some friends in a bit.
Him: Do you like movies or tv?
Ugh! I make it through this little attempt to keep me there longer and think I’m in the clear. Then, this:
Date#9LT: Have you ever done online dating?
Velvet: Uh, once.
(Yeah, once this week maybe.)
Date#9LT: Did you know a lot of the profiles are fake?
Velvet: No, really?
Then he launches into a whole story about how he caught someone lying about being a computer programmer. All I’m doing is trying to expedite the bill paying process. I finally throw some money down and as his story brings tears of boredom to my eyes, I hail the bartender to get our change. Then he starts a whole new story about politics of all things and I’m thinking, What is wrong with him? I am trying to LEAVE. He says that he thinks Libertarians are the weirdest people. Thats funny because I consider myself a Libertarian, but I dont consider myself to be among the crazy Libertarians on the ballot every 4 years. Why he is launching into a topic as complicated as politics is beyond me when he sees that I’m zipping up my purse? Get a clue buddy. Finally he poses some deep question to me and I’m seething because I just want to get out of there and I said, Theres no sense in discussing politics because there;s nothing we can do to change any of this and anyone who believes otherwise is living in a bubble. You would think he would get the hint that I don’t want to discuss that or anything else, but nope.
I guess he is really lonely. He was nice, but that low mumbling and the conversation hijacking was out of control. When we finally have our change and leave the tip, I stand up. Then, he asks, So, do you prefer movies or t.v.? This guy is FUCKING KILLING ME. It was like I was on Candid Camera. I tell him t.v. and I start to make my way to the door.
We get out in the street and I’m like, It was nice meeting you. And he says, Have you seen any good movies lately? I cannot believe this is happening. I am, at this point, being so far beyond rude because I just cannot take anymore. He wasn’t catching subtle hints like me jingling my keys, he wasnt catching giant hints like me walking out the door. Finally, a happy little blogger I know pulled up in a cab (yes, all planned out) and as she waved at me he said, Oh, there are your friends.
Yes. There they are. Thank you.
I couldn’t escape fast enough from this date. I realize now that IJL has no limits to who they will set me up with. “Hello? Velvet? We have a fabulous new match for you. He’s tall dark and handsome. You’ll be meeting him at Arlington Cemetery, walk in and he’s about 7 rows of tombstones back. Yes, he is dead. Oh? That’s not what you are looking for? I’ll be sure to tell our matchmakers.”
At some point after this date, IJL called with a new match. I believe this call came in on a Friday around 3 p.m. I didn’t call them back until Monday and the girl who called me also answered the phone. She got very flustered and said she was on another call and could she call me back. I told her I was stepping into a meeting and if she got my voicemail to just leave me a message. Then she said, “Well, you call me back.” Whatever lady. Tuesday morning I got a message from her saying that since I had not responded to them they would be putting me on hold. I have reached the boiling point my friends.
I called her back and said that I just want to be done with this, and she is not to put me on hold. So she says some bullshit like they all do, then tells me she has a match for me, and his name is Jose. Look. I’m perfectly happy to go out with Jose. I’d probably go out with Bin Ladin just to get through this contract. But, I specifically said in my interview that I was Caucasian and only seeking other Caucasians as my end goal is to get married. (Uh, whatever on that part. I really just want to give them a hard time.) She says to me, “Well, his parents could have just named him Jose.” Really? Really! And my parents could have named me Velveteen, but they named me Velvet. What the hell does that mean? So I said, “No. I don’t think so.” And she practically hung up on me.
Date 10: Ray Romano; February 2006
“DC101 Can you make it stop?” “Yes I can! It’s the sound of Velvet, screeching through another bad date.”
IJL calls with my “new match.” I delete their bullshit message and call them back. It’s essentially the same guy they describe when they call. He loves to travel and loves to hike, bike, camp, etc. Why bother listening to the description? Liars.
They set me up with Ray Romano. Date night arrives and he is really a nice guy. I have no complaints other than that he’s not my type. BUT, he did ask me how my Volleyball league was going. Um. What? I started laughing. He said he wrote down the entire description they gave him so he could ask questions about it. Now that’s pretty admirable, but it would help if everything they said was true. About 70% was truth; 30% a giant fabrication. Apparently I’m in a volleyball league and I play tennis. There were a few other things, but I snorted out my diet coke when he was telling me and sucked it back through my ears, so I couldn’t hear anymore.
~~~
It is now July. My friends at Its Just Lunch have been suspiciously quiet since our last conversation sometime in February. (Remember when I say conversation I’m really referring to a fight.) When I called, of course someone new picked up the phone. (Lookout sarcasm.) I’m shocked they have any turnover at all!
NewGirl: Thanks for calling Its Just Lunch, this is Cathy.
Velvet: Hi. I am a member and I havent heard from you guys in a long time.
NewGirl: Whats your name?
Velvet: Velvet the Sucker.
NewGirl: Hmm. That doesnt sound familiar.
Velvet: Well, seems you are new there.
NewGirl: Oh yes, were all new. You probably worked with Karla.
Velvet: Yeah, she was a real brain surgeon. Got everything wrong.
NewGirl: Well, they brought a bunch of us in to clean things up.
Velvet: Yeah, I think thats how it works around there.
NewGirl: Can I put you on hold for a minute while I look for your file?
Velvet: Sure.
{About a minute elapses.}
NewGirl: Okay, can I get your information and call you back? I cant seem to locate your file and I dont want to keep you on hold.
Velvet: Sure, my phone number is 202-887-5966.
NewGirl: Great. Ill call you back as soon as I figure out whats going on.
Its Just Lunch called back at a hair before 5 on Friday. They said I was placed on hold, and usually there is a letter in the file indicating that the client received a copy of said letter outlining the hold terms. However, surprise, that letter is nonexistent, and they realize a mistake was made. I again explained that the last crew of employees was a disaster, and she agreed, saying, You have no idea what we are dealing with over here. People are really pissed off. Nope, I’m pretty sure I understand.
Anyway, this time I have faith, not of course in their matchmaking skills, but their general competence to set me up on a day I say I’m available. This girl who called back was a Director as opposed to the Coordinator who answered the phone the other day. Usually each office has two Directors and two Coordinators. The job of the Director is to do everything possible up to and including oral and anal, to get you to part with your money. The Coordinators job is to ruin your life with dates scheduled for the days you say you have open heart surgery, send you to restaurants that dont exist, and send you to meet people who don’t show up.
I’ve given them my schedule and they have two matches for me. No I didn’t write anything down because even in the two guys they described, they both sound the same. Both are the same height, both got their MBA from GMU. Seriously. Are they just reading the same file over and over? And lets face it, according to them, I’m a in a volleyball league, so I would say the intergrity of their information is worthless. Blech. Well, its almost over. And its practice so I don’t screw up with someone real.
Date 11: The Boroughs Baby; July 2006
All right. Sunday, I had Date 11 of the 14 date obligation with, shall we just call them IJL? I mean, that’s what they call themselves. The details of the date, set up by whatever I named that chick – Cathy I think, were fine. She sounded like she knew what she was doing. I met Date11TheBoroughsBaby at Daily Grill at 1:00. Anyone who knows me knows this is prime skin cancer hour and I do not like giving that up for what might be a shitty date. And we know that its not like IJL is going to suddenly discover an arsenal of good looking men who they forgot to set me up with before. But, being that it was my first one back out there, I decided I should behave and not cancel.
I saw him walking up to the restaurant and my first impression wasn’t the greatest, but I shall shine the light on myself for a second. I was wearing a sundress, flip flops, and my bathing suit underneath the dress. I was too lazy to change. Or shower. So I smelled like Eau de White Trash in line for the roller coaster at an Amusement Park – Coppertone SPF 8! (Never go lower than SPF 8 or God Forbid, not wear any sunscreen, okay! Trust me, I’m a pro.)
They seat me first, and as I’m going to the bathroom to wipe the sweat off my face, here he comes, with the other hostess. We said a quick awkward hello and I trotted off to the sink to swim in the cold water for a minute. When I returned to the table, he stood up to greet me. Um. What the fuck. None of these guys have done that. Okay, so he’s a gentleman. Nice. Points for that even though that act of standing up when I come back makes me feel like an idiot.
Not a lot of details to share. He’s from NY, hence the name. We ate. He paid the bill despite my best efforts to throw money at him, and we exchanged information. He was comfortable with himself, and I could go out with him again. Can I see myself ripping off his clothes? Jury still out. And if the jury is still out, um, that could be a sign in itself. Next.
Date 12 Sir Talks A Lot; July 2006
Date 12 was Tuesday evening in Bethesda. I get to the restaurant and I’m late because I stopped at Loehmanns. Stupid Velvet. Remember the layoffs! But at least I didn’t buy anything. (When did clothes become ugly? Hang in there Seven Jeans, I need to squeeze another year out of you) The hostess brings me over to Date 12. Instantly not attracted. Not my type, no negotiation on this. But a really nice guy. Just talks a lot. Way too much in fact. Lets knight him and give him his name: Date 12 Sir Talks A Lot. There.
He grew up in Bethlehem, PA, also the hometown of Velvet’s Dad, and I do know a bit of Bethlehem history. Yet, any time I discuss Bethlehem with people, and describe where my grandparents and dad lived, I get that face. Apparently, its the wrong side of the tracks, literally. I had a boyfriend in college who was from Bethlehem and he said, Oh, NO ONE GOES OVER THERE!! This guy tonight? He said, I don’t know where that is. I’m guessing South Side though from what you described. A lot of immigrants lived and still live up there. Yeah, what do I look like with this fucking FLAG OF GREECE spread across half my back? But I digress.
I learned all I needed to know about Beth Steel. (Note to eyes: If you fucking glaze over again when I need you to feign interest, you are dead to me. I will bring you back for more laser surgery since you loved it so much the last time, remember? You sealed yourself shut for two fucking days and refused to come out! Try me.)
Suddenly in my head, I’m whisked away to New York and I’m having sex with James Gandolfini. I have no idea where this daydream came from, but I was trying to wager what sex with him would be like. Would it be Tony Soprano I’m in control/holding a gun to your head kind of sex, or would it be a big joke of an experience with a semi flaccid penis that barely registers on the scale? Oops. I realize I have now missed several crucial minutes of the Bethlehem Steel story. Damn. I hope he didn’t cover the part about how they closed because my Grandparents had died by then and I never followed the story. According to my date, the Hispanics have taken over my grandparents neighborhood. And now, Papou and Yiyia are rolling over in their graves.
I wanted to tell my favorite story about my dad and growing up in Bethlehem, but his stories kept going. I also learned more than I needed to know about some company called Green Thumb something and ugh, I can’t even get into it. It sounded like a weird job. I was speechless. Of course the one line I’m always dying to use came to mind: Did I tell you about my latest yeast infection?
The bill comes, we pay, we leave. He walks me to my car, talking now about not liking the dressing up for his job. He laments how he hates ties. I say, I wonder what the purpose of ties really is. He says, I know the whole history of the tie. Sometimes, I will never learn. Seriously. Stupid mouth. Youre next after the eyes for some surgery, and I’ll have you lasered shut if possible too.
Verdict? Obviously there was no way I wanted to rip his clothes off. In fact, I wanted him to put more clothes on. Please, more ties. Several of them. Really, the look great on you. Nice as you are, I just cant imagine you with nothing on.
The Sad End:
Somehow, despite the fact that they owe me two more dates, they have kicked me out with a notice that simply says: “Your membership has expired.” Would I do it again? That answer is a resounding FUCK NO.
