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Date Posted: 00:13:08 01/05/05 Wed
Author: Waldo
Subject: Re: Pre-Quel II.... "Why Me????"
In reply to: Waldo 's message, "Pre-quel I... "Dodgeball"" on 00:10:32 01/05/05 Wed

The PCL became my regular joint, and I started popping in several nights a week. Turns out it’s Dodgeball’s regular joint too. She’s a singer, and a pretty good one – I think she conducts a church choir on Sunday mornings. At the bar, her go-to songs include “Let Her Rip” (which I hate), “I Will Survive” (which I, along with every other heterosexual man, hate), and “Fame” – which she sometimes does with a couple of friends and a sister singing backup, and usually sounds good. ‘Course she ain’t no Waldo.

Over the next six months, she never said a word to me. NOT ONE WORD. I’d see her all the time – and I’m a friendly guy, I got to know the regulars. But this particular one hated me, so I didn’t see much point in going out of my way to be friendly to her.

Then came her birthday. And she got drunk. Or, as the kids would say these days, she got “crunk.” I say crunk sometimes too, on account of how cool I am.

She was standing up for some reason or another, and I had to walk by her for some reason or another, and she stopped me. Loudly.

“Why don’t you ever talk to me?”

I said, “who, me?”

She said “Yes you. You’re the best looking guy in this bar, and every time I see you in here you flirt with every girl in the bar except me. What is it about me?”

(Aside – I don’t really remember if those were her exact words – particularly the “best-looking guy in the bar” part. But those are the words I use every time I tell this story. Heck, it’s really the only reason I even bother telling Prequel II).

I said, “It’s not me, it’s you. You never talk to me either. You hate me.”

“Why would I hate you?”

M’friends…. She was hammered the night she earned her infamous nickname. And while she vaguely remembered the kiss that wasn’t meant to be, she didn’t remember me as one of the assholes, laughing at her. And now she likes me.

So I bought her a birthday drink, and we became friends of a sort. The sort where the girl really likes the boy and the boy refers to her by an unflattering nickname behind her back.

She IS pretty, as I mentioned before. I just can’t get past the ass. And the chain-smoking.

On the occasional night, if she got drunk enough, she’d ask why I don’t ask her out. And I’d have to make up some reason that doesn’t refer to… all of her. And then one night she happened to mention to me that she was still married.

Hallelujah. God bless the institution of marriage.

She has been separated for years. Her (ex?) husband is on his own with a girlfriend. She has had (I’m certain) WAY MORE than her share of boyfriends (she makes up for the big ass with good-ol’-fashioned promiscuity). But they never bothered to make it official. Didn’t want to spend the money, or some such silly reason. They both know the situation and are comfortable with it.

But not ol Waldo. He is quite uncomfortable with the concept of dating a married woman, even if the marriage is dead as a doornail. And he couldn’t wait to tell her.

She cried that night, but I had a damn good reason to shoot her down now. After last call, I found her in the parking lot, in the passenger seat of her friends carl. Crying, with the windows open for all the world to hear…..

“WWWWWWHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYY?????????”

“WWWWHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYY MMEEEEEE???”

I stopped by and asked her what was wrong now.

She looked at me, tears in her eyes, and said “Why won’t you go out with me?”

Waldo: “Well, you’re married. I don’t date married women. Even if it doesn’t mean anything to you, it means something to me.”

Dodgeball: “So, if I get a divorce, you’ll go out with me?”

Waldo: “I dunno. Mebbe.”






“WWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?????????”

Man, I’m an asshole. But for some reason, this girl loves me.

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