Continued from yesterday's post
I breezed into a Pittsburgh watering hole last week and was greeted by a favorite bartender. We caught up, and then her eyes flashed.
"Oh my god, your friend has been here every night for months. She's a total alcoholic now."
In my absence, she lost her job and now shoehorns her implausibly huge new bolt-ons (right) into skin-tight clothing every single night, hanging herself on a hook and boozing herself into oblivion. So many levels of yikes, there. I assured the bartender that this trainwreck is decidedly not my friend.
I returned a couple nights later, and Michelle and I immediately made eye contact. Without acknowledging her, I grabbed Risa and we went into the separate cigar bar. 20 minutes later, Michelle was standing in my sight-line, flirting with a gaggle of eager men. A half hour after that, she was standing in front of me.
"Are you not even going to say hi, John?"
I glared at her. "Hi."
It was then that I discovered that in the last 18 months, Michelle and Risa have met. Michelle sat on Risa's chair arm and whispered into her ear for three eternities. Then she went back to her flirting station.
"That girl really loves you!" Risa said.
"She said you're rude but so's she and you're like two peas in a pod, two sides of the same coin, and she really misses you."
"Risa, that's the woman whose ticket you used."
"That bitch was Michelle?!?"
"The very same."
Risa told me that Michelle was now in full-blown golddigger mode, often speculating about men's comparative worth. Ugh. At some point Risa left, and Michelle plopped next to me. Her hand grazed my knee. It's amazing how counterproductive that move is when I hate the hot woman doing it. Michelle told me how much she missed me or some such. Who can listen, really? I asked her to come closer to me, and she leaned in.
Trigger warning: if you hate complete clichés, read no farther
As she leaned in close to my face, I blew cigar smoke square into her eyes.
Hey, I warned you.
"No no no," said Dorkass when I told the story. "Here's what you should've done. She leans in close to your face, and you look at your phone and go, Oh, sorry. My Uber's here."