Single Girl Shock Therapy


What's worse--being the freak or being the bitch?

by Julie Robinson

  He saw me before I saw him, so he may have even been watching me for a while sitting at the bar thinking about getting up the nerve to come over and talk to me. When he did make the call, got me to answer, and ambled on over, the first thing I noticed was the pancake make-up and blush. A split second after that I noted very bad, old hair plugs. On the other hand, it could have been a poorly constructed wig.

“So, you must be Julie,” Toby greeted me with a smile. We had talked on the phone briefly before our first encounter, and the only thing I remembered about him was that he was a pilot and had never been to a Taco Bell. He remarked that since I didn’t have a TV, and because he had never been to Taco Bell, we would be perfect together. What about our interest in Estee Lauder cosmetics, Toby? C'mon--that little bit of information didn't cross your mind? Not even for a second?

“Hello.” I didn’t get up or make room for him on my side of the booth. At the time I didn’t think about this being rude, but seeing that he left almost immediately and didn’t come back, it must have felt that way to him.

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