Well, after my ego was kicked in the face by the man formerly known as Muscles and now (un)fondly referred to as "Asshole", it's time to move on. As one of my wise friends put it, "The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else." Preach on, sister!
So, with the help of Millionaire, I am doing just that. He texted me last week about 2 hours before he wanted to hang out with his usual impressive social graces, "What u doing tonight". *Sigh* I've just accepted that this is his idea of pillow talk. I, losing my patience with his last minuteness, told him I had plans. He seemed to get the hint because on Sunday he texted me at 2 in the afternoon as opposed to his usual 5pm, AND it was 2 complete sentences. But at the time I was so smitten with Muscles I couldn't feign excitement for Millionaire. I told him I was busy but we should hang out later in the week.
Later in the week came, and here we are. I head to his house AGAIN, but he actually said let's go out to a movie so I'm optimistic this will be an actual date. When I get there he's sitting in his living room playing his piano. I've gotta hand it to him, Millionaire knows how to catch me off guard. Just when I'm thinking he's some grunting idiot of a caveman he does something like that and I think, hmm, there's more to this guy than I thought.
I took piano for ten years so I have done my fair share of ivory tickling. (I probably would've been much more enthusiastic about piano had it been as exciting as 'ivory tickling' makes it sound.) I ask him if he knows how to play that classic it seems EVERYONE first learns, Heart & Soul. (better known as "That song from the movie Big that they play in FAO Schwarz") He does not, so I sit down and teach him and soon we're duet-ing away. Yes, this sounds astoundingly geeky but it was actually quite charming and fun. Next he wants to show off his new pool table so we head up to his game room. I lose to him, twice, and no, not intentionally. Instead of humiliating me a third time Millionaire is kind enough to teach me some things about pool and lo and behold, I actually get better!
Then, as men are prone to do, he decides to take advantage of me when I'm bent over focusing on a shot. Oh Millionaire, there you go with your predictable ways again. But hey, heeding my friend's advice, I follow his lead. And I gotta admit, hooking up in Millionaire's bedroom while overlooking the city of Los Angeles beats the heck out of Muscles' crappy Hollywood apartment with cracks in the ceiling. Let the healing begin!
Afterwards, we decide we still want to go to a movie. He's getting dressed and he walks out of his massive closet in a button down and jeans and says, "Hey, can I wear this?" What am I, your mother? Wear whatever the heck you want to wear. I say this to him and he says, "Yeah, but look at the holes in this shirt," and proceeds to show me three massive rips he seems somewhat proud of. So, naturally, I say yeah you might want to rethink your fashion choices. He pouts and says, "But my best friend gave me this shirt. I love this shirt." Fine! Then wear the damn shirt, what the heck do I care?! I say this, though I try to be nicer about it, and he seems happy with my answer. Did I just pass a test I was unaware I was taking? He is once again living up to the stereotype of the eccentric millionaire living in the house in the hills, but surprisingly, I find this amusing.
Another surprise is that his friend is going to the movie with us. Now, granted, I HAVE met his mother so I guess I shouldn't be so impressed with myself that I'm getting to meet a friend but still. His friend is a red head and looks like ZZ Top. Cool. Seems appropriate for the hobo driving the Maserati wearing a shirt with three massive holes in it. The friend is very nice and at the end of the evening says he's sure he'll talk to me again soon. Oh really? Hmmm. Could Millionaire actually have told his friends about me?
I still don't think there's any massive love affair that will ever materialize between Millionaire and I, but he makes me laugh, even if he doesn't know it. And when my options are staying at home with my dog eating Doritos in bed and pining for "Asshole" or going out with Millionaire while he's dressed like a homeless person....I'll take the latter.
The only true love is love at first sight; second sight dispels it,
LL
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