Sex and the City: Long Weekend Notes From a Saturday

…Considered number closing the tall cashier with the supermodel lips who jumped like a schoolchild the other day (see recent post entitled “A PullJoy Man is a Triple Threat”)-but thought better of it. She’ll probably be working there a while. I was gonna tell her to come see me on her day off, but naaah…

…Tried to number close a babe who was coming from a cleaners with an armful of clothting in the same upscale neighborhood the cashier works in, after “Which one of those are you going to wear when we go out?”, but I hadn’t asked her anything about herself, and hadn’t established social capital…

…Escalator leaving subway, catch up with babe that was twirling her wavy auburn hair all the while she was seated in front of me on the train, “That thing you were doing with your hair- that would be much more fun if I did it.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked. Friendly-curious, but no laughter or big smile. I don’t like my position, she’s one stair above me on the escalator, and I don’t want to crowd her by taking the same stair to talk paralell, but by my not doing so, she has to turn slightly to answer my questions. From Broward County, Fla. originally, but I sense no connection, and don’t ask for digits.

Number close a shapely belly dancing student who was in a long, slowly-moving line for a belly dancing performance during an expo for this lovely craft, hosted by a hotel a few blocks from my crib. When she asks if I’m going in to see the showcase (I’d held her place in line while she finished a snack), she fumbled for her ticket or something in her purse.

“Do you have a pen in there?” I asked.

She: “Yes.”

Me: “Give me your number, in case I can’t get in.”

She jots hers down, and I give her mine as part of my exit strategy, and they wave forward all those with online reservations for the performance, which includes her. My plan had been to go in, because I’d met a hot, gold-complexioned babe from Boston in a mall near the hotel, and I wanted to find and sit with her (but never found her in the line or corridor)…

…Finish the night at my spot, playing tonsil hockey, and getting orally blessed twice by a Capitol Hill staffer whom I sex-closed last summer, the night I met her during her vacation in a northeastern resort town (word to the wise- if a babe is on vacation or out of town, and is staying alone- walk her home). Sent her home at 1:00 a.m. this morning. As for our encounter- there’s a special place reserved in heaven for those who swallow- which is ironic, because girlfriend is in church as I write this…

(the weekend is young)



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