Monday, April 10, 2006
it went something like this...
We meet at Tryst in Adams Morgan. We order coffee and my new DC BFF flopps down onto the warm chocolate sofa next to me. She takes off her leather headband and begins smoothing some loose red hairs back before placing it back on her head like a crown. The crisp crease of her Gucci suit contrasts with the vintage furniture and mix matched tableware of Tryst café. But her mood matches the diner and she relaxes easily into the Bohemian atmosphere.
Tatiana skims the diner, bringing her eyes to rest on a man sitting alone at the counter with his computer.
“How much will you pay me?”
“How much will I pay you?”
I raise my coffee cup to my lips.“Yeah. How much will you pay me to just walk up to that guy and ask him to rub up on my breasts?”
I choke back the coffee.
“Tatiana!”
“What? Well it’s come to that.”
I put my cup down. I’m wearing a white lace dress and can’t afford to spit anymore coffee up on it.
“Tati, three months without a boyfriend doesn’t make you desperate."
“Well it sure feels like it.”
Tatiana lets her body fall dramatically forward. She lowers her ear to her knees, her arms hang to the floor and she closes her eyes.I run my hand over the top of her head like moms do.
“Come talk to me when it’s been a year.”
“A year? If it’s been a year and I still feel like this, shoot me. Seriously. I have enough pent up sexual energy to fuel a Boeing 747. Jane, what’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing. You’re gorgeous. You’re fashionable. You’re fun. You laugh at all my jokes. And you’re genuine and warm. You are a catch.”
She whimpers.
“Then why? Why don’t they want me?”
“Are you whining? Stop banging your head against your knees. People are looking. It’s just not the right time Tati. A man is not going to fulfill you if you can’t fulfill yourself. There is nothing wrong with you and they do want you."
“They want you!”
“They want me because I’m going back to New York in three weeks. I’m what you call, a fling.”
“Well. What if I just want a fling?”
“Do you?”She thinks, sits back up, smoothes out her skirt with a perfectly manicured hand and reaches for her coffee.
“No. But I need to be serviced.”
“That’s what vibrators and porn are for.”
“And MySpace.”
Labels: Boy Stories, Internet Dating, Pop Culture Casualty, Sober
