Usually it’s a bad sign when guys have a profound bullshit line. That means they’re hoping your brain is small and easily confounded by profound-sounding words, so that you take the deep message and completely miss the fact that they’re about to blindside you with a huge load of bullshit. Panty-men love to use profound lines, I’ve learned. In this lesson, I was hit with the following lines. They sound really profound, don’t they?
“Life… life is full of choices. I mean, you could get what you want out of life, if you make the right choice. So, when it comes to us, what is your choice?”
-Guyana, January 2009
I met Guyana while drinking. I admit, I was looking cute in man-trapping clothes (as my cousin says). I had on a red corset and a pencil skirt. It was the night of the last day of my internship, and all the interns were partying together. For reasons I would not go into here, it had been a rough internship, not in terms of the workload, but the final month had been tough. (RIP. Bless.)
As for that night, it was the 30th of July; we were out having fun, and on a group mission to out-drink the bar, because free drinks were on the menu.
Personally, I was well on my way to doing my part to “buss” the bar, but I had a craving for tequila (family trait), and had to venture to the paying part of the bar. I was standing up in the corner, feeling suave and friendly, and had just lustily asked the bartender for a shot of Patron when I sensed the person walking by me do a double take.
“Oh my God, you’re beautiful.” He said.
As my mother had taught me good manners I said, “Thank you.”
“You have to save a dance for me.” He said, taking my hand in his.
“Of course.” I replied, fully committal to anything that would make this conversation end faster because my tequila shot had just been placed in front of me.
He didn’t see that. He just saw me flash a brilliant smile before he walked away.
By the time I had drained the shot of golden liquid down my throat, I had forgotten the whole conversation. My craving fulfilled, I wandered back to the main dance where my friends and the free drinks waited.
Somewhere later in the night, and a couple more drinks later, someone took my hand as I was passing through the crowd. I stopped, turned around and focused vaguely on the guy who distracted me from my love affair with Patron earlier.
“Hey beautiful, I’m ready for my dance now.” He said, drawing me closer.
I danced with him. I had nothing better to do at the time, and I was drunk enough to think I could dance in time. He led me to a wall, and we began to dance with each other.
I’d like to say that if I wasn’t drunk at this point, this night may have probably gone differently. However, as the blood was coursing through my alcohol stream, I was at a serious disadvantage. He was an expert, grinding of his body against mine, the way he smelled, the way he was holding me, I was in lust.
I managed to retain some vital information: his name, and he was the VIP manager of the club. Hey, more free drinks for me, especially tequila from the cash bar! I was definitely keeping him around for the night.
So I kept him around, played his game, smiled demurely, batted my eyelashes. I was agreeably non-committal in my responses while I flipped my hair, touched his arm, and laughed way too much. My final act that night was akin to Cinderella: when the clock struck 4 am, I slipped through his fingers and went home to my cool, uncomplicated bed.
I saw him once before I left that summer, 2 days before I got on the first leg of my trip back to school. He had mentioned something about friends who could upgrade my ticket to 1st class. I was very interested, provided the price was right. You know the price I’m talking about… it’s never in monetary terms. Funny enough, he still thought I was a nice girl (not too sure what defines a nice girl) and decided to supposedly do it out of the goodness of his heart. Later, I would find out he expected me to be grateful to him, as if it was only first class seats were going to Ft. Lauderdale, and as for the rest of the plane, everyone had to get their on his or her own merit. I didn’t find this out until Christmas, though.
Fortunately, as an only child, I am not manipulated by guilt that easily.
I did get my flight upgraded and enjoyed the benefits that first class can bring. I prepaid for that one by meeting up with him in Port of Spain. We both had mutual business in the city that day. As we’re walking, he related stories of woe: people owed him money; his exes don’t let him see his two kids; trouble at work etc. I kept thinking to myself, is his life really that bad that there is nothing positive in his life? I forgot to mention that compounding on his troubles was the fact that the future love of his life (a.k.a. me) was leaving him for four months to go away… yes, I was going away…to school…in an arrangement that was predetermined long before I met him. However, I stayed around because the promise of that upgrade was enticing, and I was a “poor starving college student” and a nice girl. Yet, as much as he seemed like a nice guy, I did get on the plane and went back to school, without guilt.
We talked during the four months I was away at school. Not regularly, but enough to keep me in his mind. In the meanwhile, I frequented other nightclubs while under the influence of alcohol. Nothing permanent, just to keep me busy when I had free time.
Upon my return to Trinidad, I found out Guyana had a girlfriend. Excellent! Now I would be free not only to pursue other delectable gentlemen specimens, but I could go with these gentlemen to his club and still maintain my perks. I looked forward to going to the club, and even had my gentleman friend chosen in my mind.
However, at the last minute, my new object of distraction cancelled. That was okay, I could still find other people to go with: La Petite Mouse and Bubbles, with G and A tagging along later. So now, I was with my ladies, and I was informed that the dress code was “a piece ah dress”.
Guyana saw me in the “piece ah dress”. I smiled as I walked by. His head followed me, even though he was with clients.
I had warned La Petite Mouse and Bubbles to make sure I did not disappear with anyone during the night, because, truth be told, I was hoping for something more from the new object of distraction, something to elevate his status, and a drunken distraction with some random person (or Guyana) would not help. Confident in their abilities to lead me from evil, I helped myself to a couple rum and pineapple juice mixers. Suddenly, Guyana appeared.
“Why didn’t you come looking for me?” he whispered into my ear.
“I sent you a text message, but when you didn’t reply, I assumed you were busy with work.” I whispered back back.
“I think you look very sexy in your dress.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll check you in a little while, okay?”
“Okay.”
I didn’t see him for the rest of the night. I was okay with that.
A couple days later, he tracked me down by phone. He was upset that he had only seen me once that night, and wanted me to come back that Wednesday, by myself, so that we could spend quality time together.
That wasn’t going to happen. Aside from the fact that my main distraction was in town, and I couldn’t go out Wednesday because I was going to to visit my grandmother, a trip that usually lasted 12-plus hours, including travel time, and never really got started before 11 am. There was also the fact that he had a girlfriend, a fact I called him out on.
“So, I take it wifey is going to be okay with you being more than friendly with another woman while she’s at home? Or is she going to be there too?”
“She wouldn’t know.”
“So you want to have me and her? Sweetheart, what makes you think that I want to be the outside woman in your relationship?”
…and it was then that he went into the now infamous speech about life and choices! It was so much bullshit, I could not keep a straight face when telling it the first few times. In hindsight, he must have really thought I was stupid and young to take his words as gospel. Here he thought that he was so smooth, so sexy, and so eloquent that I would fall for his lame-assed profound statement.
“Life… life is full of choices. I mean, you could get what you want out of life, if you make the right choice. So, when it comes to us, what is your choice?” was the deep line he chose.
I was stunned. I gave a few second of pause, as if I was actually pondering the thought. Then I dropped his profound words right back on him.
“Well, you see, life… life is full of choices. I mean, you could get what you want out of life if you make the right choice. My choice of whether to be the other woman or not, is no. Goodbye.”
I hung up. I have never heard from him again.
