"How was Michigan?" asks Macy. It's good to be back in Chicago: population fifty trillion and all the bar staff know your name. "How did it go with seducing that guy?"
Oh yeah, seducing that guy. I don't know what was more humiliating: having my feelings thrown back in my face over a Subway sandwich or having him beat me at pool five times in a row afterwards. The pool, probably. I hate losing at pool. I've barely won a game since I've been here, which I don't really understand seems the pockets are bigger. Everything in America is bigger: winning should be easier, by a mile.
It's not me though, it's him, right? Right. I understand. Bad timing, he said. Maybe we can hook up again in five years' time. Five years, I laughed. Five years?! Are you out of your mind?! I mean, I'm gonna be famous in five years time!
But then all of a sudden I couldn't quite swallow, my mouth full of bread and jalepeno. Don't cry, cowgirl, don't cry: whatever you do next, do not cry.
"It went pretty well to be honest, Macy," I lie.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
archive
- August 2011 (1)
- July 2011 (2)
- June 2011 (15)
- May 2011 (9)
- April 2011 (19)
- March 2011 (19)
- February 2011 (17)
- January 2011 (2)
- December 2010 (2)
- November 2010 (1)
- October 2010 (3)
- September 2010 (2)
- July 2010 (3)
- June 2010 (3)
- April 2010 (1)
- February 2010 (2)
- January 2010 (2)
- September 2009 (1)
- August 2009 (4)
- July 2009 (4)
- June 2009 (3)
- May 2009 (8)
- April 2009 (11)
- March 2009 (12)
- February 2009 (9)
- January 2009 (4)
- December 2008 (10)
- November 2008 (27)
- October 2008 (21)
- September 2008 (12)
- August 2008 (9)
- July 2008 (11)
- June 2008 (5)
- May 2008 (5)
- April 2008 (12)
- March 2008 (10)
- February 2008 (11)
- January 2008 (15)
- December 2007 (10)
- November 2007 (9)
- October 2007 (3)
- September 2007 (9)
- August 2007 (8)
- July 2007 (10)
- June 2007 (13)
- May 2007 (14)
- April 2007 (11)
- March 2007 (11)
- February 2007 (12)
- January 2007 (9)
- December 2006 (4)
- November 2006 (10)
- October 2006 (8)
- September 2006 (12)
- August 2006 (19)
- July 2006 (22)
- June 2006 (7)
- May 2006 (25)
- April 2006 (18)
- March 2006 (5)
- April 2004 (1)
- November 1998 (1)
- March 1980 (1)

I'm sorry.
ReplyDeleteI know; it's okay.
ReplyDeletePeace.
Aw I'm sorry - I had high hopes for you with him.
ReplyDeleteAs for American pool, the rules are different you need to go for a pot each time so there's little room for flukes, makes for a much more skilled game when you get the hang of it.
Michigan?...meh!
ReplyDeleteFlyover territory.
i'll play with you when you get home. i'm shite at pool, you'll hammer me. then i'll sulk, give you a hug and it will all be better.
ReplyDeletepromise.
Bechod. Ond yn amlwg doedd y boy 'na ddim cweit reit yn y pen.
ReplyDeleteSubway? Klassy. No loss. NEXT.
ReplyDeleteOh. I hope you didn't cry only because chewing and crying is so ghastly and miserable. I guess you could have blamed the jalapeno? Yes - you will be famous in 5 years time and he will be kicking himself! Take care.
ReplyDeleteboo urns...
ReplyDeletelosing sports (is it a sports?) game against a boy is usually much worse.
"population fifty trillion and all the bar staff know your name"
ReplyDeleteYeah! That's the Chicago I remember! And having a hangover...and missing our train...and staying one more night..and after-hours places...
Nothin' quite like it.
Not EVERYTHING is bigger in America (in my experience anyways). Maybe that's why...eh I'm reaching.
ReplyDeletesorry but that guy is a frickin idiot
ReplyDelete