My phone rang. Scared the life out of me cause other than my mother, everyone else texts. So it rang, and the caller id said it was the hospital. I went to full on panic mode. Ended up being Pussycat.
Pussycat-:"What. Nothing, lost my phone so stopped in here to use the phone. Oh my god, I couldn't even think where to go to find a phone anymore. They need to bring back phone booths for when stuff like this happens."
Me-:"You bastard! What do you want?"
Pussycat-:"I met a guy!"
Me-:"The guy from Valentine's?"
Pussycat-:"What? No doll, not him he's done. Done had and no repeats remember. No I mean I met a guy for you."
Me-:"I'm not interested." as much as I love Pussycat, I'm not sure I want to trust his taste in men. Which is sad, cause if he were straight, I'd be totally after him. Yeah, dude, that's messed up I know. The irony is not totally lost on me.
Pussycat-:"You know it cost 75 cents for this call? Oh my god, I remember when it was 10 cents for local calls."
Me-:"Well, like you said no one needs phone booths anymore."
Pussycat-:"Well, they should. Make it so much easier for when you loose your phone. But, you need to meet this guy, he's perfect for you. He's a bartender..."
Me-:"I'm not interested."
Pussycat-:"Shut up and listen. He's a bartender, met him in my yoga class. Girl! The ass on him was like a big slab of butter! I wanted to cry his ass was perfect! Like that guy from that superhero movie the British guy Cubberbutt or what is his name?"
Pussycat-:"Yeah that guy. He's hot."
Me-:"Yes he is. His butt is little on the flat side for me but...all puns intended."
Pussycat-:"Well I think it's perfect. Anyways, he's got a beard, long dark hair..."
Me-:"I'm really not interested. No seriously, I hate long hair on men. I'm not overly thrilled with beards either."
Pussycat-:"He's just gotten divorced..."
Me-:"I don't date divorced men either. Give up. Thanks for thinking of me, but everything you just listed, I've dated before. Like, broken my own rules gone against my gut instincts and massively regretted it; dated before. I'm grateful you thought of me when you saw him, but he's not my type in anyway."
Pussycat-:"Okay miss thang. Miss king shit. What then is your type?"
Me-:"For starters, short hair. And I mean short hair, like if it's at the collar it's too long. Clean shaven, thick thighs. Bit of a tummy, chest hair. Men who look like their age you know. I don't want to be with a guy wondering if I should be blowing him or burping him. That too smooth skinned waxing thing men do way too often is a turn off." when guys are like walking skeletons that's a turn off too. I've lost a lot of weight in the last year, but I have this thing about being with men who's thighs are at lest as large as my own.
Pussycat-:"The Salesman had a beard."
Me-:"Not when I first met him he didn't. And he only had the beard for like a month before he shaved it off again."
Pussycat-:"Well, pretend to be interested because I gave him your number told him to text you."