It's been almost a year since I met one of my favorite bar stars. We met during a costume party...at a bar (i mean really, where else would I meet someone of this d-bag caliber?) He was dressed as (hint: the most creative male costume known to man)... a well endowed athlete. Yes, he had big socks placed inconspicuously (or maybe not so inconspicuously). I believe I punched his socks as he walked by and that is how we got to where we are today. That and the fact that he played baseball at an ivy league school and had a phat condo.
I got ditched the night I met sock boy. He and his friends were kind enough to wait outside with me while I got a cab. A few short text messages later, I realized we were about to text our way to love. It became a weekend event. One of us would text the other and we would meet up while out on the town. If he rolled the dice right, which he usually did since his tab was ALWAYS open, then I would go back to his place for a night cap. The first time we walked (yes folks, we're responsible) back to his condo, upon realizing where we were going, I said "you seriously live at such and such?" and he said "you will not be using me for my condo." I replied with "oh, I most certainly will." We had several fun after parties of two at his audacious (does that word even fit?) condo with spectacular views.
My favorite after party was the night he called and said he was sweaty and needed to come over. I lived in a condo about 12 blocks away from his, but four blocks from the 80's club. I had just gotten home from a holiday party with yet another winner and the thought of sock boy was invigorating (still is, actually). Sock boy showed up, drenched in sweat from head to toe. It was almost Christmas and freezing outside. I asked him why he was so sweaty and he said "I have been pumping my fist for three hours." Of course you have, sock boy. You WERE at the 80's club, after all. Sock boy comes inside, removes his construction worker boots and blue jeans, climbs into bed and passes out. The next morning, he wakes up, asks me how he got there and then wants to know why his jeans are wet. I DO NOT KNOW. you said you were PUMPING your fist for THREE hours. Maybe your testicle implants leaked? You got me, buddy.
I stopped making a habit out of sock boy after that episode. It just got weird. Plus, by this time, I had a crush on sock boy. but true to the rules of dooshbaggery, he could never actually call me to take me on a date - he just would make empty promises of taking me to dinner. he was a master dooshbag artist. He would text me just enough to keep me intrigued, and call spontaneously enough to keep me thinking he had a crush of his own. Every now and then I still get a text or a facebook message from him. He also drunk dialed me and told me he missed me and he needed me. I also have a hilarious picture of his BICEP that he texted me one night. The last time I saw sock boy was the last time I went out alone (those always seem to be the craziest nights). He wanted me to come to the bar with the outside patio. I went because the tomato farmer was at the same bar and also wanted me to come by. I knew it would cause a ruckus. I made sock boy walk me back to my car, we kissed, and that was it.
Sock boy never really disappears though. He called me the other day from his work phone to say hi and to tell me he was going to take me to dinner after his vacation. He's been back from vacation for a week and I've heard nothing. Which is fine. He's a sweet guy, really smart, really sexy, but he's also the same kind of guy who dresses up as a well endowed athlete and plays poker 6 days a week. Sock boy is the kind of guy that is so hard to let go of but you know you should.
You can't change a dooshbag, not matter how much you really believe they don't want to be a dooshbag. I guess it isn't fair to call sock boy a doosh. He's a tool. He can't help it. It's the way boys are these days. At least he's a sweet tool. And costume season is quickly approaching...perhaps I should go to a party at the 80's club?
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