What About the Cake?

Allusions have been made, but I’m waiting for some paperwork to go through before I say anything. Hell, Cake Woman and I haven’t even been on a real date — what am I saying? It’s like we’ve been dating for months, except that she routinely called me creepy and gross. Actually, I kind of miss that — she’s been eerily nice this week, almost as though she actually likes me.

For all those people who said that I was crazy for hanging out with her so much, this is not why I was hanging out with her. Amidst all the confusion of the last eight months Cake Woman and I had a bunch of really good times. Any new developments in our friendship are in a different area altogether. Change might fuck everything up, and then who would go to the museum or eat “hot dogs” from Superamerica and “burgers” from White Castle in one night with me? On the other hand, what new lady would let me hang out with Cake Woman?

“She made you a cake? Hell no. You are not going over there and getting drunk again.”

It’s kind of reassuring when Cake Woman threatens to get rid of me after a week. Business as usual.

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