See, I didn’t set out to ruin your day, Joe. I really didn’t. It just so happened that the way my refrigerator is set-up right now, I had to go across town to pick-up something to eat. In fact, I didn’t even want to have to be in town at all. My baby is a delicate, sweet cherub, but he DOES NOT like sitting in traffic (don’t you judge my baby, we all have our faults) so we really would have much rather been going for a drive on the backroads. Chad, I’m telling you, I meant you no harm. Just as we pulled into the parking lot, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” began to play, rounding out our musical soirée of George Lightfoot, She and Him, Cardi B, Runaway June, and a medley of show tunes (variety, people, you have to give the baby variety; just trust me, it’s science).
Anyway, you know this parking lot is an awful one, Bobby, you know it. And, sure enough, as soon as I approached my turn, I realized you and your girl were sitting in traffic RIGHT where I needed to move my vehicle. Do you know what else I noticed? If your car moved juuuuuust a little bit forward, it would make room to glide my moderate-to-high MPG chariot right on through (honestly, great gas mileage, 10/10 would recommend, txt for deets). You know what happens next, Drake. I tried my best to make eyes at your girl first. I flung my hair, tapped the glass, did the universal, “Ummm… hello?” glare and nothing worked. I did just about everything aside from flare my nostrils in Morse Code sequences to get her attention.
But, you unlucky SOB, she never looked. That’s where you come in. I, a dedicated, innovative, resourceful intellectual thought it would be a fantastic idea to turn my efforts toward you – and, man, were you responsive! Almost the VERY instant that I started giving you the hand signal to move forward, you looked right at me. You gave me a thumbs up and a smile, letting me know you understood, Randy, and I know I lit up just like my dachshund Jay does for second breakfast (shh, his dad doesn’t know about that). I thought, “There’s my man, Reggie. Back at it again, comin’ in clutch.” I was sure that you were about to give me the hookup.
We both know that’s not what happened, though. Just as you were about to tap your girlfriend in, she looked at you looking at me and there was no coming back from that. You knew it and I️ knew it. She whipped her head at me so fast that I barely had time to think, Carl. When she turned back to you, she was looking at you the same way that Drew Barrymore looks at butter in Firestarter. You instantly looked like you wanted to cry and started the classic, “Babe, babe, babe, it’s not what it looked like,” and this time, it really wasn’t what it looked like. Poor you, Tim. I could’ve rolled down my window to explain to her that I wasn’t making sultry eyes and was just squinting due to being blinded by the light in my eyes (not even the “sun in my eyes” kind of blinding, it was the “the sun is hitting your rear view mirror and burning itself into your retinas and for a split second you have to wonder if Jesus is coming back in the Year of Our Lord 2017), but I ALREADY TOLD YOU. My baby is precious and I couldn’t risk letting him hear any of the foul language that surely was coming out of her mouth.
I could’ve flashed my wedding ring at her to let her know that I’m happily married and that you’re not even close to my type, Macklemore (sorry), but it kind of looked like the sun was in her eyes, too, and she may not have even seen my ring and she may have thought I was telling her she could catch these hands and I’m not into violence right now. Namaste, Paul. Naturally, there was nothing to do from there except pull my car through, since she finally pulled forward and y’all went out of sight. So, really, I just want to say I’m sorry for leaving you hanging. From the looks of it, you might need a dog bed tonight and I gotcha there, too, if you need it. Just holla.
My Sincerest Apologies,
BookyBabe aka Girl Who Left You Hangin’ xoxo