El Guapo in DC

I am El Guapo. The most Guapo man in all of DC. Mucho Amor

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Payback: Guatemalan style

Well look at this. Look who it is minding his own business and going about his life. Look at this. In life, I believe, there are occasions where one must break out of their “mould” to make a statement or, in my case, to have a story to tell. Sometimes it isn’t even about the story. Sometimes, well sometimes, it’s about being the voice for all the little people out there. I had one of those days today.

I went grocery shopping today. You guessed it. I was completely out of flan. For some odd reason, Goya Flan isn’t sold at the Safeway in Mi Linda’s neighborhood. How these people can survive, I don’t know. What I do know is that I saw a special person today. A person who has haunted my nights since I was old enough to say, “So, do you want to go out?” This is a person who has the uncanny ability to find me regardless of where in DC I decide to go.

For a while, I thought he had radar for ridiculously good looking Guatemalans, but then I heard he stalks others (even those who aren’t Guatemalan or good looking). This is a man who interrupts conversations, a man who changes the flow of the “connection”, a man who makes you seem cheap, a man who, I’ll just say it, a man who is my sworn enemy and I hate him.

Who is this? Have you guessed? It’s the DC rose guy. I hate him.

Do hope that he gets force-fed rotten flan and Vegemite by an Argentinean Kiss cover band? Hmmm, now that I think about it, yes. I would, but I wouldn’t want them to physically harm him or anything. Maybe if he got a bit scuffed up while he was being force-fed. That would be ok. Or if some of the makeup got on him, but that’s part of the game. Anyway, yes, I wish him extreme discomfort.

Look DC rose guy, don’t give me that look! I’m soooooo sorry that I don’t want to buy your mierda roses for $5 a pop. Look at these damn roses. The petals are falling off. Why do you have to come with your wicker basket to ask me if I want to buy a rose? The date was going so well and now you make me look like a cheap bastardo. Didn’t you see how my date was touching my leg with hers under the table? Oh yes, I know you saw this. I knooooow you saw this. This is when you pounce. You wait until the date is going so perfectly that I cannot say no. I have to smile and say through a tight lipped fake smile, sure DC rose guy, of course I will buy the cheapest rose in the world from you. Thank you so very much DC rose guy! Thank you so very much!

Oh! And what happens when I decide to fight you? You give my date a look! You raise your eyebrows and tilt your eyes to the upper right hand side while tilting your head ever so slightly like in the 3rd grad picture. I know that f-ing look! It’s the good luck with this cheap bastard look! Then, after I say no, I start to doubt myself. I wonder if she thinks that I’m a cheap bastard. I think about telling her about my disdain towards the DC rose guy, but then I don’t want to risk being the guy who hates the working class man. Hey! I AM the working class. I don’t go around pushing shitty flowers you dirty son of a…. I apologize. Let me calm down.

Ok, so I was at the supermarket and guess who I see? Si, I saw the DC rose guy with a young lady. Like a detective on CSI, I watched as they walked up the bread isle, his hand gently placed at the small of her back. They lovingly discussed whether they should get the wheat bread. All they had was a small, green basket, so I had to act quickly. Should I tackle him into the bread and force hundreds of loaves to crash down on him? Totally. I should, but I won’t. I don’t want to create more work for someone else. You see, I AM the working man.

So, I decide to play his game. I run over to the flower department and pick out an exotic flower bouquet of some kind. Thirty some dollars. Perfecto. Nice and overpriced. They’re still in the bread aisle, but making their way to the register. Run!

Hey! Wow! It’s been such a long time! How are you?

We shake hands and for the hell of it I hug him. His body is tense and confused. I’m Latino and can get away with the hug, but he doesn’t like it.

Man, I haven’t seen you for such a long time! It is such a coincidence to see you here today. I was just having a conversation with Manny about you the other day! He told me the good news. Congratulations!

“Yes, we are very proud. The first in our family to go to university.”

Oh, how perfect.

Wow! I still can’t believe that you two are old enough to have children going to college! That’s great. You’re a lucky man!

The “lucky man” part was said while shaking my finger at him in a teasing way. The entire scene was a bit ridiculous.

When was the last time you told her “thank you” for putting up with me and giving me genius children? Here. Take these, give them to her. Beautiful women should never be without flowers.

I then saw her give him a look. The look that I’ve seen too many times. The look of hope. The look of a desired romance that has been hidden for too long. He knows this look. He causes this look hundreds of times a night. How does it feel you bastard? How does it feel? He smiles, and takes the flowers, hands them to her.

“Thank you my friend. It was great seeing you again.”

Then he gave me a look. I knew this look. I’ve given him this look many times. I then winked and walked away.

How do you like me now?

Mucho Amor,

El Guapo

17 Comments:

At 3:53 AM, Blogger sara said...

Revenge is sweet!

 
At 6:14 AM, Blogger P1P said...

JUSTICE!

I hate them. You are getting intimate, perhaps getting ready to suggest coffee at her place when they come in and wave some crappy flowers at you.

Don't give in to them. Send them away if necessary turn up the next day with a bouquet that will make her forget that he even lives.

You have struck a blow for the rest of us.

Down with the flower pimps!

 
At 6:58 AM, Blogger MelissaLaughing said...

Brilliant. Simply brilliant.

Just know that we women hate & pity the women who screw the rose guy.

Oh, women ALSO hate (some of the) half-naked boobie girls who sell $10 shots to our drunk boyfriends. Hello, boobie girls? Why don't you just ask him for $10 to do body shots off of US sometimes?

*now I'm sad*

Hey --> who are you going for in the World Cup Finals???

 
At 8:35 AM, Anonymous wonderWoman said...

You are a riot, El Guapo. I've been reading for months and love your blog. I hate the rose guy, too! And I'm a woman. I'm a woman who doesn't like cheap-ass flowers forced on you by "flower pimps." (Thanks for that on-the-money description, p1p!)

 
At 9:41 AM, Blogger rock_ninja said...

I have to reiterate that we women are not suckers; we know the DC rose guy is an hijo de una puta. Actually, I call on the women of DC to be the first to say "no, go away" to the rose guy before your date can. Let's demand better flowers and romance that isn't forced.
By the way, i think you should root for France in the World Cup, since Italians are just like Argentinians- shiny, tan, hair-gelled bastards.

 
At 11:53 AM, Blogger KFarmer said...

That was (simply put) PERFECTION.

 
At 12:05 PM, Anonymous kbean said...

Why are you dating women who want rose guy flowers? I always say no to the guy before my date can because I don't want a) him to waste his money, b) to be that tartlette walking down the street clutching a half-dead rose to the mockery of all passerby, and c) (let's be honest here) if you act pleased with a $5 flower on date one, you're setting the bar pretty low.

 
At 1:25 PM, Blogger The Blonde Menace said...

Brilliant!

 
At 1:42 PM, Blogger Rev. Smokin Steve said...

The Philly rose guy is just as bad.

But the Philly rose guy might sell you some soft pretzels too, which is good.

 
At 1:50 PM, Blogger Raincouver said...

I just can't wipe a smile of my face... that's brilliant indeed!

 
At 1:52 PM, Blogger Coley said...

Good assessment Rock ninja. Anytime I'm out, and see the flower-ass sidling up to my table, and my date starts shifting uncomfortably in his seat, I tell the flower guy "no thank you." Don't even give him time to throw some guilt.

Prepackaged romance is for people with no imagination.

 
At 5:10 PM, Blogger jali said...

Outstanding!

I have to always tell the rose guy, the photo guy, the stupid stuffed animal with hearts guy that I don't want their stuff so that my sweetie doesn't waste money on cheap stuff I don't want or need.

 
At 8:27 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

How come we don't have rose guys in NYC?

Of course we have flower guys--but no rose guys.

 
At 3:14 PM, Blogger DCThrowback said...

I still think you can get even better revenge by being that guy for Halloween.

 
At 10:15 PM, Blogger Rev. Brandy said...

This post about the DC Rose Guy is absolutely brilliant. Bravo!

 
At 6:05 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

A bit late, but would just like to say this post is outstanding.
Living in DC I couldn't stand the rose guy. I didn't have a boyfriend, but often went out with guy friends to chill in Georgetown. Bastard would always create a akward moment when he'd come up to our table, especially if my friend had a non-present girlfriend. Questions like "she's my friend, do I buy her flowers, will she think I like her, even though I'm dating a perfectly nice girl, will she tell anyone if I do, because this guy is making me feel like I ought too, even though this is just hanging out, and nowhere near a romantic evening, and if I do, will someone see and report it back to my girl, and make the situation very complicated just 'cause this @$$hole is giving me a look telling me I'm a cheep bastard & shouldn't make my date look bad, even if she's just a friend, and its not a real date."
So, thank you El Guapo, for stiking it to the rose guy, especially on behalf of my friends.

 
At 9:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

That is awesome. I hate the DC rose guy. Actually I think there are rose guys everywhere... I was just at a discoteca in Maryland getting to know a sexy Guatemalan and the rose guy had to make things awkward... wonderful

 

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