My Friend Leslie
Heavily Revised 5/8/2012
In Early January of 2009, I was at the Ambassador in the Hollywood District of Portland, Oregon performing some karaoke. I had just done Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up. (Which I owned, by the way. Everyone was sufficiently Rick Rolled.) I was taking my bow and walking back over to my friends when this blonde girl grabbed my hand and walked me over to the bench where she and her friend were sitting.
This was a new experience for me. I was not used to being led by the hand, especially not by strangers, especially not by strange women. She guided me over to her booth where her friend, who was significantly more attractive then she was, was sitting.
Once at the booth, she told me her name was Leslie and that she loved me "right now" and that she was from Las Vegas in town for work.
I told her I used to live in Vegasand asked her what she did for a living. She told me she worked for an airline. I told her I was a teacher.
This was pretty much a lie.I was also in no way attracted to this girl at all. I was just trying to be polite.
She wasn't ugly. She seemed like she took good care of herself. She smelled nice. Yet, there was just something about her that I found unappealing. Perhaps it was her boldness. Perhaps it was her wonton availability. It kind of reeked of desperation.
She asked me if I wanted to hang out sometime and I said sheepishly "sure" but made no effort to get her number- nor give her mine. She kept staring at me and I did my best not to look directly at her face because I was afraid she would kiss me. She kept telling me that she thought I was really cute and she asked me if I thought she was.
What I should have done was lie and say I had a girlfriend. Or that I was gay. Or married. Something. Anything! But, I wasn't thinking. I said simply, not wanting to hurt her feelings, that "I'm not really attracted to you- but, I generally am not attracted to blondes.”
This was probably the absolute wrong thing to say, and had the exact opposite effect on her from what I intended.
At that point, my wonderful friends Josh the Terrible and Niira Danger- who were my backup plan to leave Leslie's side- left the bar, and thus left me to be slaughtered.
All the while, Leslie was rubbing my thighs and inching closer to me. At one point, she even put her hand on my ass. When I looked down at her hand, she quickly moved it away, but was still seemingly undeterred. She said I didn't have to sit and talk with her if I didn't want too, again telling me she thought I was cute and asking me if I thought she was.
I told her “I really admire your forwardness but I’m not used to that, and it makes me uncomfortable.”
She kept touching me, and I started to feel my hormones unwillingly gathering to attention. I had no physical attraction to this girl, yet my testosterone was coming dangerously close to clouding my judgment. It didn't help that I was somewhat lonely and was mildly on the prowl for a mate. Could be worse things than going home with a crazy girl, I thought.
She said she wanted to go bowling with me at this 24 hour bowling alley she found, though I strongly suspected she had a different game in mind. I do love bowling, though, and I have to admit that this idea was tempting. Meanwhile, her face kept inching closer to mine and her lips came dangerously close to mine. I could smell her cherry lip balm.
Finally, I freed myself from her talons and fled like Joseph from Potiphar’s wife. I almost felt bad for the girl- she looked so sad when I left. She also did not smell in the least like alcohol so she was either was just naturally bold. Or, and I particularly like this option, she just found me totally irresistible.
Of course, this could have also just been a dare, a bet of some kind, and if it was, I hope she won it. That kind of forwardness deserves a reward.
To my friend Leslie: Good luck in Vegas- or wherever you are.
Thanks for Reading.
PDXKaraokeGuy, also known as Justin W. Price, is an author with Sweatshoppe Publications, which will soon re-release his poetry collection, Digging to China. Additionally, the managing editor at eFiction horror and The New Bridge online newspaper.. Husband to Andrea, father to two dogs. writer.poet.baseball fan. tattooed. He is am amateur theologian with a rabid sweet tooth. He resides in a suburb of Portland, Oregon.He has a poetry book available for Amazon Kindle, and also maintains a blog, FirstBlog. His work has been featured in the Crisis Chronicles, efiction Magazine, The Hellroaring Review, the Bellwether Review, eFiction Humor, and the Rusty Nail. Please visit his profile page for more information. Thanks!
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