If It Swells, Ride It

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

I was the 17-year-old hostess at the local Italian restaurant. He was the 23-year-old bartender. I’ll leave out all the gooey teen-love-flirtation crap, and skip to the part where we started dating. At first it was intoxicating. Here was this older guy, this older HOT guy (did I forget to mention the washboard stomach and rock-hard pecs?), who was taking ME out to dinner, bringing me lunch at school (to the envy of all my friends), and making going to work a thought that made me weak in the knees.

After a couple of weeks of that giddy headrush of infatuation, it occurred to me that he was an older guy. An older guy who worked in a bar. Perhaps he had certain mistaken ideas about our physical relationship. At this point, I was convinced that I was going to wait until I found my One True Love and keep my virginity until my wedding night, but he didn’t know that. So I gathered my courage and told him that I was saving myself for marriage. Surprise! He was okay with that! He said he respected my decision, and he would not go any farther than I was comfortable with. All was well, and I was twice as attracted to him for being so sweet and understanding. Here, at last, was a guy who wasn’t just after sex! I couldn’t have been happier.

Until I got the note on my car the next day after school. “I want you.” What?? Had I not made it abundantly clear that I was NOT going to sleep with him? As I saw it, the possibilities were the following:

  1. He had misunderstood me. After all, anyone could mistake “I’m not going to have sex with you” for “Let’s do it, baby!” right?

  2. He wasn’t talking about sex. Maybe he just wanted to have coffee or whistle Dixie with me (is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?).

Of course, that was it! He wasn’t talking about sex at all; I was just letting my fears get the better of me.

The next day there was another note. Guess what it said? Right. “I want you.” By now I’m getting really nervous. Plus, the infatuation had started to wear off, and I’d noticed a couple of things about Mr. Bartender; namely, that he was not the sharpest tack in the drawer. That, and he seemed to be obsessed with his body. He was always getting off the phone with me to go work out. It could be 2 AM, and he would go to the gym to make up for a missed workout. Also, he seemed to be obsessed with my body. Some actual conversations we had:

Bartender: On a scale of 1 to 10, how important is your appearance to you?

Me: Huh?

Bartender: You know, how much pride do you take in your appearance? Personally, I’d say it’s an 8 or a 9, for me. What about for you? And don’t give me any of this modest 3 or 4 crap, cuz damn girl, you look *good[/]!

Another time, as we’re driving down a busy street:

Me: So what are your hobbies? I like to read…

Bartender, cutting me off: Cars, man! I LOVE cars! I can tell you the make and model of any car you see on the road <at which point he spends the next 30 minutes identifying makes and models of every car that drives past, ignoring all my attempts to have an actual conversation >

So what with the notes, and him being a moron and all, I decided to break it off with Body McBartender after work one night. But shortly before I got off, Body dragged me into the walk-in freezer, kissed me, and shoved a note in my hand. I bet you can’t guess what it said. Go on, guess! Pretty close. I unfolded the note, and read, “I can’t take this much longer. I want you VERY soon.”

I was through kidding myself. I knew what he was after now, so I told him politely that I didn’t think we should see each other any more. He did not take the news well. He peeled across the parking lot in his truck, and promptly paged my best friend 911 (this is before the omnipresence of cell phones).

Best Friend: Who is this? What’s the emergency?

Body McBartender: It’s Bartender!

Best Friend: October’s Bartender?

Bartender: Not anymore! She dumped me! What do I need to do to get her back? I’ll do anything! Just tell me what to do!!

Best Friend: Well, honestly, those notes were freaking her out. You should probably just back off.

Bartender: Yeah, I can back off. No, wait! I have a better idea! I know what to do to get her back! I have to catch her in a situation where my shirt is off, or I’m wearing a tank top!

Best Friend: <hangs up and calls me, laughing her ass off>

So guess who showed up at the staff meeting Saturday morning wearing a tank top? Yup. A white one, with hot pink letters across it, reading, “IF IT SWELLS, RIDE IT.” It was about surfing.

Damn, what was I thinking, letting that one go?

2

Very entertaining story. You had me at “ride.” Plus the pager reference was a nice trip down memory lane.

And welcome to the Boards.

:slight_smile:

Happy

3

Wow. You’re not from Long Island, are you? Heh.

(BTW, I think this is post 1000 for me. Woohoo!).

4

Damn. I thought it was going to be about surfing. Like when a storm is in the Gulf and the waves in Galveston are finally are big enough to be fun.

5

Congrats Cosmo. And welcome October I think I am going to like er, you.

6

Geez, October, it seems the good ones just slip through your fingers like sand on the beach, doesn’t it? I feel your pain. I once had a guy seriously ask me (or leer at me more precisely), “Do you come here often?” And with the foolish impatience of youth I replied, “Obviously once too often since I just met you.” Aahhh, the nights I’ve spent longing to hear those words again, wondering what if…

7

'Cause you’ll come more often with me.

Ah, yes… all those apparantly lesbian women who turned me down.

:wink:

for the easily offended, this was a joke

8

Happy, Lobsang, thanks for the welcome!

Congrats, Cosmo.

You know, for years now I’ve been saying that I’m going to write a book about all the wacko guys I’ve dated. I just never had enough incentive. Now, finally, I feel compelled to write these stories down and post them on the web for the amusement of thousands of complete strangers.

It’s kind of messed up, when you think about it.

9

Naw… not messed up, it’s a start!

Guess, for those who Really have been doing their research, was this body-conscious (yours and his) car-lovin’ fella a Bather?

10

… or worse yet, a voter?

11

Wyatt, are you referring to Eve’s thread? If so, of course he was a bather (remember his personal appearance scale?) If not, please enlighten me.

Lieu, this guy had the IQ of a rock. I’m not sure if he could identify the major political parties, much less actually pick a candidate and get himself to a voting booth. Thank goodness.

12

LMAO! VERY funny October!

You just gotta love guys like that! They’re soooooooo funny to tell your friends about!

13

Not messed up at all. You have found your One True Home.

See if you can scare up a link to the “funny things said during sex” thread. Hours of eyewatering, thighslapping amusement.

Then think up more embarrassing stories you can share so we can point at you. :wink:

14

Why, Miss October!
Of Course I’m referring to Eve’s thread.
“Don’t you go thinking I’m stalking you … but I Like reading your stuff!”
(Makes note: October’s tea is also hot – do not stand in front of her when she is reading --)

15

All I can think of is Bartender going through his tanktop drawer, trying to find the one shirt that best expresses his feelings. “Save a Tree, Eat a Beaver” - no, too casual. “If I Said You Have a Beautiful Body, Would You Hold It Against Me?” - no, too formal. “Co-ed Naked Skeet Shooting” - no, too political. But then he finds what he’s sure is the perfect shirt - “If It Swells, Ride It”. This is it; a love sonnet in five short words.

16

Ha! Very funny, Little Nemo! And sadly, probably accurate…as disturbing as it is, he probably spent a great deal of time on his appearance that morning–what with his personal appearance scale, and all.