Ice on the Snatch

M 1-11-99 2:40 PM

The kids are gone.  A cool breeze comes through the door.  I feel bathed by it.  So Anne seemed mostly unhappy with our get-together Friday night. Certainly I gave her enough reasons to be.  Ambiguity and drunkenness being two of the most obvious.  Spilling a glass of ice water in her lap couldn’t have helped.  She was bored by Kris Kristofferson.  She sat out at the bar.  I didn’t know if she wanted to be left alone.  I went out to see.  I had a bourbon with me.  She said she was tired of standing.  We talked about a used tampon in the trash in the bathroom.  I kept having to go to the bathroom.  I kept saying, “Excuse me, but I’m going to check out that bloody tampon again.”  We went over to Dan Tana’s.  I ordered grub and wine.  She refused to eat or drink.  The waiter recognized us.  “Wilcher ill,” he said.  His daughter goes here.  He was good to me.  Brought me a glass of wine and dessert on the house.  That was around when I knocked the water over.  I don’t know.  A little ice water on the snatch might be fun, but that probably wasn’t the right circumstance.  We left to go back to her place by the fountain in Los Feliz.  She bolted from the car.  Called strike three.  Getoff dropped me at my house.  I went to my game on Sunday morning.  We won fourteen to four.  I was three for four with a double and two runs scored and two stolen bases.  Got a nice scab on my knee.  After the game, I called Getoff.  He wanted me to call Gabi and Esther and set up a date.  I called Gabi.  They were about to go shopping.  Said they’d call back.  I read the paper.  I didn’t expect they’d want to go, but they called around five.  I told Getoff that we were the Fonz going out with the Limon sisters.  We took them to Renee’s in Santa Monica.  Walked the Promenade and the out onto the pier.  It was very romantic.  I told Gabi my engagement was over.  She told me she’s seeing a paramedic.  Swing and miss—strike three!  It all makes sense.  It was an awkward drive home.  Shirelle wants me to move out.  I’m going to say this for the last time: Bitch.  I definitely felt like a loser.  I was terrified to see Anne.  She stayed away during the morning assembly.  I stumbled upon her in the mail room during recess.  Gulp.  “Hello,” I said.  She asked if we did anything after.  I was heartened she was showing signs of curiosity.  I said, “No, we just went home.  I was falling asleep in the car.  How about you?  Did you do anything Sunday?”  “I had to do things for school.  That’s why I had to leave so early.”  Again, I was heartened.  She seemed to want to explain that she wanted to stay out longer.  Maybe.  Maybe my drunkenness and ambiguity were not the main reason for her wanting to leave.  Wishful thinking?