I Give You Three Months
I was having a crappy evening (at least I’m completely done with the semester) until Cake Woman decided that it would be good to go to the Flameburger. Her tall (and oftentimes hilarious) friend Dan was coming too, and Cake Woman said that I would be allowed to break the news that she and I were dating. Apparently we are dating. I found some pants and drove like a bat out of hell to get there.
I had suggested that I find the least appropriate way to let him know, and she had agreed, but I chickened out of my plan to kneel under the table amidst the grease and discarded french fries and orally service her. Instead I just sat on the same side of the table as her and announced that I wanted to sit with my lady. We were awfully cute (or just awful and cute) as we smiled and secretly held hands. I think that Cake Woman had been holding back some stories from Dan — now that I was no longer her secret shame she could reveal that she had related a terrible dream to me upon waking up — with me.
Dan mentioned that his Danly duties have been lightened since I acquired a phone that actually rings when Cake Woman calls. Cake Woman informed him that he should buy me a present for taking over his job. I just rolled my eyes and remembered the late night phone call from a couple of weeks ago where I tried to inform her that I wanted my life to be a Cake Woman-free zone, partly because I did not want to be the new Dan — not that I’m anywhere near tall enough. He’s like six foot twenty.
I had to struggle a bit to keep up with the mountains of inside jokes, and I heard a few things that I only wish that I could unhear, but Dan is good folks, so even though he smoked Camel filters the whole time I was glad to have chatted with him. He told tale of recently hanging out with a friend who fished a week’s worth of cookies out of a Holiday dumpster while passing the doughnuts by, because:
“Fuck doughnuts, man!”
Indeed. That’s how I paid for college this summer.
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