- Never, ever, ever, give your number out to a guest at work.
- I'm too nice of a person sometimes, and the wisest thing to have done was head for the hills.
To answer the obvious question, no, I did not open the box. I was waiting in the restaurant when he called me to come out to the parking lot, and I told him to take the thing off and get inside. Which, hindsight being what it is, was the appropriate time to exit and circle around the place and leave. Instead I stayed, and now I'm going to have to break things off with him over the phone and hope like hell I don't run into him before I've moved to Toronto.
Speaking of Toronto, my friend Charlie's office is relocating from Winnipeg. He has a friend who's 19, and never lived on his own, who's looking for either a bachelor apartment or a roommate to split a two bedroom place with. However, if I were to move in with this guy, it'd be... SOON. Like, in a few weeks soon. He's a magician, which is a point in his favour, and according to Charlie, he's the nicest guy in the world. I'm not entirely adverse to the idea, but I've been getting more and more attached to the idea of living on my own.
5 comments:
Are you sure his dick was actually in the box?
Also, how big a box was it?
Well, considering he told me about his odyssey to find said box and get it gift-wrapped (and the hole cotton-lined), and then I saw the box itself after the date... and heard about his strategies to blast the heat to avoid cold-related shrinkage and attach the box to his belt-loops (I'm told that being... non-erect... would affect the positioning of the box), I think I can say with confidence that yes, his dick was in the box. It was a shoe box. I can't believe I just typed all that. I can't believe he attempted to guilt-trip me about NOT coming outside and opening the box. Hell, the fact that a guy I've known for three weeks wanted to give me his genitalia in present form is still sinking in. Is there something wrong with ME?
Well, at least it was a shoe box and not a ring box. But if he was depending on being erect to keep the shoe box in position, shouldn't the top of the box have popped right off? Or was it held closed by the gift wrap?
Anyway, the fact that a guy you've known for only three weeks wants to give you his genitalia doesn't indicate that there's something wrong with you. Rather, it's a sign that there's somthing right about you.
Something right about you, yeah; but also something way, way wrong with this guy.
I would imagine that attaching the box to belt-loops would offer maximum stability, but he's lying that erectness would alter the box's position. He likely didn't want you to lift the Nike lid and see what looked like a frightened piece of manicotti seeking warmth in the cotton lining.
Well, I have to go do something very nice for someone to karmically balance the fact that I just typed all that out.
... Apparently I need to visit Canada. That's where it's all happening.
It is indeed all happening here. Tonight I got roped into posing as a coworker's girlfriend to get rid of some guy that was harrassing him, and ended up getting fake-mauled against the restaurant after hours. I guess I only have myself to blame; I did make that silly resolution to have adventures this year.
And it looks entirely possible that I'll be moving to the gay district in Toronto in a month or so.
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