Sometimes I don’t like Miguel. Not because I sometimes think that he is actually certifiably crazy, but because of the situations he causes for me.
This weekend was interesante for me. Miguel made me come out with a couple of girls that he met because, as he says, “I need some gringas on my mind.” Whatever. I’ve been blowing him off for so long that it didn’t make much sense for me to stay indoors.
So I find myself in a group house full of East coast educated women with colorful tapestries on the walls and Depeche Mode on the I-Pod. I looked at the ladies in the room and noted their very black mascara and ill-washed hair. One had black and white leggings with a short skirt and a one side longer than the other hair cut. It was that type of crowd, they were cute, but I wondered how in the name of everything holy did Miguel get hooked up with them.
Then, I realized why. I looked up at mi amigo and noticed that he became very chatty. He was using his hands a bit too much and really being more annoying than normal. One of his new amigas, a quiet one, wearing all black, was also rubbing her nose. I understand. They found each other through a love of snow. How romantic. Miguel has always loved the nieves, but I wasn’t aware that he was playing with the snow too. Oh well, it is his nose. Who am I to judge?
Then the woman with the black and white leggings suddenly began dancing, well, “dancing” in front of me while I sat on a futon covered by yet another colorful tapestry. I smirked and wished that there was a TV I could watch or maybe a baseball bat that could hit my head. She was nice looking and everything, but the Depeche Mode and nose rubbing was beginning to make me nervous. I politely smirked.
“You’re shy aren’t you. You’re the silent type. I like that.”
Baby, I’m not silent. I just don’t want to be around when the music stops. Then she straddled me while still gyrating her hips and arms. Interesante. Depeche Mode chicks dig me. It is the mustache. Then, she kissed me. It was not a good kiss. Mostly because I did not want to kiss her and mostly because it was a kiss full of teeth. Her teeth clanked against mine and I could feel my face tighten as I felt her wetness.
“There, that will cheer you up a bit.”
I didn’t know what the hell she meant by that. Did a dentist teach her to kiss? Why would that cheer me up? God, is this what being single is going to bring me? Sitting in a ill lit room with Depeche Mode in the background?
Then I tried to put that moment out of my mind and listened to the words of the music and watched Miguel Latin dance with the women to Depeche mode. This man will dance to anything as long as he can move his hips.
The laughing, the dark lights, the tapestries, the music. They were all becoming one. The nose scratching was making me dizzy. I needed to go to the restroom.
The restroom had a picture of a pink teddy bear that seemed to smile at me. I did my business and watched my hands. Then, I looked at myself in the mirror. I was looking particularly good looking today. Look at that mustache! Perfectly trimmed. I think I’ll just stay in here and look at myself. That bear, I can see it in the mirror. It waves at me and winks at me. I like that bear.
“What are you doing?”
Just looking at myself in the mirror. Have you seen me?
“Yeah, you’re hot. Come out here and dance.”
No. I rather get punched in the back.
“Well, I’m going to pee.”
This scene repeated itself several times. Several girls came into the bathroom and talked to me while they relieved themselves. One tried to kiss me, but I was having none of it. All I would allow them to do was speak with me and wash their hands. The mirror was mine.
Then the kisser came in.
“Ah. Didn’t do what I thought it would. I was hoping it would relax you, but out there.”
I’m just going to look at myself in the mirror.
“Yeah… I’ve never seen someone trip in the bathroom before. At least you’re not freaking out.”
How can I freak out? I have a mirror in front of me. And that bear. That bear is so nice. Waving at me.
Then, I realized it. The tooth grinder put something in my mouth when she kissed me. I had felt something, but just thought it was my imagination. No. I was “tripping” on something. No wonder I was starting to enjoy Depeche Mode…
To be continued….