I met Dirty Old PR Guy a few months ago at an event that his really, really important PR firm was hosting. I was there out of obligation (read: open bar).
PR Guy and I chatted over the shrimp dip for a while. I have this problem, everything I say is fascinating. It's a curse, not a gift. Also, my skirt was inappropriately short for the occasion and the drinks were strong.
We waxed philosophical for a bit. I told him my opinions on public stoning (I am pro-stoning) and mentioned my desire to be featured in Beaver Hunt. I could tell he was smitten immediately. I am a charming young lady.
We exchanged numbers and I did my best to remember his name.
We met for cocktails a week later. Cocktails were followed by shopping (have I mentioned that I worship shoes?). I may have stuck my tongue down his throat, but it was for a good cause (please see shoe reference above).
Over the next two months, we met for drinks, shoes, and my tongue down his throat in the parking lot a few times. Then, I grew bored of his company. I stopped answering his calls.
I ran into him at another event last night. He was with his wife. His lovely, philanthropic wife. Seriously, she does G*d's work when He is too busy. I was enraged. He needed to be Taught A Lesson. I stewed for hours.
When I got home, I called L to tell her about the evening. I have to explain that L only appears appears to be sensible. Her advice makes sense at the time, but the morning after, I have to wonder what kind of drugs we were doing and where I can get some more.
"Call him," she says. "Put him in his place."
how the conversation went, as I remember it:
Me: I'm glad you answered.
Dirty Old PR Guy: I'm glad you called.
Me: I've been thinking about you. Have you missed me?
Dirty Old PR Guy: Like crazy.
Me: I have a question and I want you to be completely honest with me.
Dirty Old PR Guy: (Pauses) Okay.
Me: Do you like vibrators?
Dirty Old PR Guy: Um, yeah.
Me: Then why don't you go buy one and f*ck yourself?!
Then I hung up.
I am seriously considering enrolling for seventh grade at the local middle school.
Asshole. Still, I am eternally grateful for the shoes.