El Guapo in DC

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

Monday, February 19, 2007

Purple Wall

Purple wall. Purple wall. Purple wall. Not my wall.

The secret, if I remember correctly, is to not change your breathing pattern. You always notice a change in breathing patterns. I do not know why this is, but you can not change your breathing patterns.

Yellow sheets. Yellow sheets. Yellow sheets. Not my sheets.

The sun had not yet come out completely and the blues of the morning were beginning to filter in through the wooden shades. Oh, wooden shades. Definitely not my shades.

I felt a warmth of skin against my left calf. Oh tequila… Porque me tormentas? Why do you torment me?

Pieces of the night before begin to come back to me. An arm drapes around me. It’s a white arm. Hairless. Some freckles. Soft. Warm. An arm drapes around me. Breathing pattern theory is done. My heart doesn’t seem to follow my rules and my breathing must keep up with the faster blood pumping through my body. My heart does not follow my rules. Does it ever do what it’s told? What is right?

The hand, manicured, but not painted, begins to rub my chest.

“Good morning.”

Buenas.

“I’m Marjorie.”

El Guapo.

“So, it looks like we met each other last night.”

Oh yes?

“Oh yes! See that pile over there? That’s my shirt and those are your pants.”

Well, at least we put them neatly in the corner. Mi mama always told me to put my clothes away.

“Wow… Talking about your mother in bed with a stranger? El Guapo, come on!”

I realized how ridiculous it was, but I am out of practice. I hadn’t been making much eye contact, but I looked over after she made that comment and realized that she had a look of playfulness that made me have a relieved smile.

Feel free to talk about how your father never hugged you to make up for it. We’ll then call it even.

It went like this back and forth for several minutes. The conversation came easily. I saw what she was doing. She was trying to put me at ease, make me relax, make me laugh. It worked.

“You’re quite a dancer.”

Gracias.

“You definitely have some moves I wasn’t aware of.”

She winked as she said this and once again made me laugh. I needed that laugh.

Mucho Amor,

El Guapo

19 Comments:

At 11:18 PM, Blogger valiantqueen said...

Good Morning Marjorie! Tell me El Guapo, did you meet on Feb. 14th??

 
At 1:07 AM, Blogger Namaste said...

wow, you really must be a good dancer, El Guapo!

 
At 3:10 AM, Blogger emeralda said...

well it was all written in the stars, wasn't it!!!!!! I know Marjorie.

 
At 8:20 AM, Blogger P1P said...

I hope you enjoyed the walk of shame. I was never sure why it was called that. I always find it amusing sitting with the morning commuters in clothes that clearly were from the day before. I can never wipe the grin off my face either.

 
At 11:35 AM, Blogger MelissaLaughing said...

Wow - wow.

 
At 12:47 PM, Anonymous angela said...

!!!

 
At 1:18 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I had a moment like that in college. I woke up one morning and before I opened my eyes, I said to myself..."flannel sheets? I don't have flannel sheets."

 
At 1:38 PM, Blogger Kim Ayres said...

Pink bars. Pink bars. Pink bars. Not my prison cell...

gulp

 
At 8:29 PM, Blogger Facinacion said...

he he... as long as you didn't wake up next to a person you knew and you thought: RUN OUT BEFORE SHE/HE WAKES UP... it's all good.
Seems like she has a good sense of humor... new girl in the block?

 
At 9:13 PM, Blogger Mujer Morena said...

Gracias a tequila, papi.

 
At 9:21 AM, Anonymous Abbi said...

Either you or Marjorie should be buying Miguel drinks:)

 
At 10:02 AM, Blogger Jay said...

If the sheets are yellow it means you drank too much.

 
At 6:52 PM, Blogger Rebecca said...

I hope that you at least remember the good bits.

 
At 10:28 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

My dear El Guapo,

I have indeed been the woman who wakes up next to you in the morning. And, I may testify that your story is a fabrication. Marjorie was not smiling, you smelly pig. Your breath smells of beans, your nasty waxed mustasche smells of cooking lard (yes, usually reserved to those naturalized citizens), and your penis is the size of a small child's when hard. I am speechless regarding how all of these people believe your crap. Wipe the grin off of your pox-marked faced and face the latino music. You do pee the bed, so your readers at least got that reference correct. Enjoy your life, loser.

 
At 3:44 AM, Blogger Nicky said...

Whoa :D Romance is in the air.. or at least something like it.

Don't you just hate it when 99% of the nasty comments are from Anonymous Reviewers? Ah..cowardice.. ;)
I hope it doesn't stop your writing, because I really like to read about you.

Love, Nicci.

 
At 9:55 AM, Anonymous catherine said...

Whoa, That above post hilarious. Sounds like an embittered jealous ex, who can't understand that people move on.
Keep writing, El Guapo, I love it :D
catherine.

 
At 11:13 AM, Blogger V.I.P. said...

EL Guapo!

I absolutely adore your writing and your adventures are always so exciting!

-J

 
At 6:53 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

whoa was that really your linda that wrote that??? what trash class she has

:-(

seems like you are better off el guapo

 
At 12:26 PM, Blogger Crankster said...

Good for you, El Guapo. And good for Marjorie. She sounds like a pretty decent human being.

 

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