Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Two Crazy Stories: Boats & Ho's... & Golddiggers

This summer I've written posts on this blog and my blog about my friends' love lives, I've talked a bit about character traits I feel will work better for me at this stage of my adult life. These two stories help illustrate some of that.

Story One. A post I wrote said, I'm not spontaneous, I'm just a go-with-the-flow-hedonist. As I'm getting closer to my friends from my teenage years at church, we're getting to know each other as adults. We're almost all the same people with a bit of changes here and there. I don't know that they think I'm easy-going (in fact I rather doubt it, that's just not me), but spontaneous could describe me by some definitions. Whenever something is suggested, I'm down to try it. Last minute plans? I'm in. Change of plans at the last minute? No problem, I'll drive or I call shotgun.

But I'm not spontaneous, I'm a hedonist. Part of me loves trying new things and loves doing something I didn't think I'd be doing when I woke up that morning. The other part doesn't like walking into situations I can't predict the outcome of. For example, deciding around 9 pm on a Monday to go to a club  that night is something I would be totally into. Deciding at 9 pm on a Thursday to get on some guy's boat who I'd met two hours previous, not so much. Anyone see the difference? One involves dancing and drinking with my friends. The other involves a likely possibly dangerous situation.

When Michelle and I went to the beach last week, that boat thing happened. A friend of hers (and her counsins) from school decided she was getting on this boat with this man. Her reasoning was somewhere along the lines of "oooh, he's got a boat, he must have money." My response was, "we don't know him. He's probably a raper-man. I get that vibe, and I trust my reads of people." I wasn't driving, so unless I wanted to sit in a hot ass car for an hour by myself (which will be my choice should this happen again), so I was on the boat too trying to appear as unfriendly and likely-to-call-the-cops as possible. We were on the boat for about five minutes when Michelle asked him what he did for a living. He said, "I'm a professional rapist." He was joking. That shit wasn't funny. We told her friend that her dreams of going on out the boat that night (in the dark) weren't happening and we were leaving and she'd be wise to join us. On the way home, one of Michelle's twin cousins (who shall hereafter be called Thing 1 and Thing 2) discussed the boat. Thing 2 (or Chocolate Thunda!) was with us in the confusion of how the hell we ended up on that boat. Thing 1 expressed that he was a nice man and she intended to go back on the boat and out on the water. I'm not saying I think she's crazy. I think that other friend who's idea it was to get on the boat in the first place is a boat booty. A boat booty is a car booty for boats. I suspect she's also a car booty. The point is, it will be a long time before I take her suggestion on anything. Seriously, anything: evening activities, grocery items, bible verses. It's that serious. Moving on to my next story.

Story Two. I wrote a post on this blog about my desire to not let what my parents want for me to so heavily influence the choices I make in my life. I think I've decided that just in time. My mother came into my room last night and asked what I was doing Thursday. I told her Michelle and I were going back to the beach (without that friend who's advice I'll never ever take) and then we were heading to church for a meeting with one of the teen groups we work with. She gave me a look that indicated my plans weren't nearly as important as what she had in mind. A friend of hers possibly has tickets to some Foundation thing Dwayne Wade is hosting. Even though I changed my look from one of interest to one of slight judgement complete blankness, she still kept talking. She said we should go to this party. There will be sooo many eligible bachelors of the sports persuasion there. This is when I know my mother has lost her marbles. With a few exceptions, I avoid athletes like the damn plague. And each level higher just makes things worse. I can deal with someone who used to (operative word used) play high school, collegiate, and/or minor league sports, but damnit, not professional sports.

But my mother wasn't done. She went on to say that her and my friend Top's mom and her had been discussing that if Top wasn't going to law school and if I wasn't finishing medical school, then we needed something else. What was that thing? Rich husbands. I made one joke about a starter husband who was rich and could help me pay down my school loans... two year ago! Apparently, it stuck in my mother's and Top's mother's head. They have decided we must marry well if they can't count on us to do what we're supposed to do career-wise. As my disbelief grew that she could actually be serious, my mother said she'd let me know for sure on Wednesday (today) if her friend was going to bring us to the party. I tried to give her a look, any look, saying something other than, "I think you're batshit crazy." But, this is my first opportunity to make a decision based on something other than what my mother wants. I can let her know I have no desire to rub elbows with 6'5", likely uneducated, hardly ever attractive, athletes and their hangers-on. I wonder how she'll take the news.

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