The Married Guy

         It was a girl’s night out kind of weekend for us.  I mean we went dancing, drank fancy martinis, and basically made fools of ourselves.  We went to this newer club in Connecticut where it was darkly lit, there were men in business suits, and there we sat looking like high-class trash sipping chocolate martinis. 

            As the night went on we talked about typical girls night things; sex, drinks, more sex.  You know, the normal stuff girls talk about.  Let's be honest here, what else do girls talk about?  Were like men with vaginas, but there’s no comparing vagina shapes or sizes like guys do.  Evolution is a hell of a thing isn’t it? 

            While outside for a smoke break, a little ‘fresh air’, our friend Zola met one of the bouncers that worked at the club.  He was cute, light hair and eyes, nice build from what I can remember.  We would chat with him whenever we went outside for a break and he would laugh at our stupidity.  I mean, really?  He’s a bouncer; he must see shit shows all the time in his line of work.  If there weren’t people like us, he wouldn’t have a job, so I think he should be thanking us.  Whatever. 

            Our girlfriend, Cheese, had to call her boyfriend to come pick her up due to her martini intake.  So it was just Sando, Zola, and me at the club.  Honestly, I should have gone home with Cheese because it had gotten to the point in the night where I was swaying and slurring. I drink a little bit more than I should, but I never get to the point where I don’t know what I am doing with my own self.  Fail for the night.

            As I’m swaying, in a rhythm I like to call dancing, I dip my entire ponytail into my martini.  Now, being that I am a weathered and seasoned drinker, I didn’t want to waste any of my $9 drink so what did I do? I rang my ponytail out back into my martini glass.  What!??!  It’s my hair! Judgey Pants!

            That was the low point of my night.  Actually, that could have been a low point for the last six or so months.  Who does that?  I do.

            Back to Zola and the big bouncing man (I am done embarrassing myself for the moment), I walk outside with Sando to find Zola, and there she is with her tongue down the bouncers throat.  I started giggling like a little schoolgirl.  Sando was laughing at her too.  They exchanged numbers and I didn’t think much would come from it.  Like I said before, he is a bouncer, he probably gets a lot of numbers. 

            How wrong we were!

            He started a little texting relationship with her for about a week or two.  We decided it was time.  We would Facebook stalk him to learn a little something about the guy.  He was wanting Zola to come meet him in the Bronx and such, us being good friends said we should probably stalk him before we let her hang out solo with the guy.  Good plan on our part, were good friends.

            So here we are, stalking, and we learn this; he’s married with a child! 

            I mean, what kind of ass clown is going to make out with someone in public and sext them and such when he has a wife and a child at home waiting for him into the wee hours of the morning!?  Doucher.  Once again, proving my point when I say all men are not to be trusted.  They set you up for inevitable disaster.  They tug on girls’ heartstrings and then play the puppet master, all the while concocting a plan of emotional distress and hurt.  Fuckers.  Sorry for the rant, but come on girls!  Open your fucking eyes. 

            Zola was a little put off by the whole wife and kid thing.  She didn’t want to be a home wrecker.  I don’t blame her; I wouldn’t want to be the other woman in that situation.  For another week or so we stalked to see if there were any changes in the status of his Facebook relationship.  Maybe a new ‘daddy and baby’ picture posted?  Nothing.  We got nothing. 

            Then he sent her a text asking to hang out.  She brought me and Sando as back up (and protection) and in he strolls looking right, and smelling wonderful.  I don’t think anyone can break the ice in the situation involving your significant other and potential child.  So instead of saying my favorite line, “so, how much does a penguin weigh?  Enough to break the ice!  Let’s get down to brass tacks, are you married with children?” we had to be a little more subtle about it.  I mean, honestly, that’s a touchy conversation to be had.  We didn’t want to upset him if they were separated, but we didn’t want to point fingers and accuse him of being a typical Doucher of a man either.

            Somehow the topic of marriage came up, I don’t know how but Sando blatantly asked him, “so, have you ever been married?”  He shifted uncomfortably and said no, he hadn’t been married or anything like that.  (Lies).  We dropped the subject, why, I don’t know, but I think it was because it was very uncomfortable after that.  That was our chance!  It slipped through our fingers!  Shit!

            While all this is going on, I am texting Guy #1, who has been strangely in tune with me and my goings on.  I thought it was strictly a sex thing with him, but oddly enough I had a feeling he may like me a little more than just a fuck buddy.  I mean, I am not ready at all for a relationship after my last disastrous one, which ended in misery and deplorable hurt.  He was too cute though.  I am a crack head to him.  (Pathetic, loser, ass hat.  This is me verbally bashing myself again.  I am good at it now.  Down to a science really).

            Another few days goes by, and Zola texts the bouncer saying she found him on Facebook and was there something that he wasn’t telling her about his status?  His response was, “that’s my brothers wife and kid.  I live with them remember?”

            I don’t know if she really accepted his answer, but me personally, I didn’t take that bait.  I’m sorry but lets be for serious here for a second.  You mean to tell me that you live with your brother, a cousin, a child, and a wife.  All of you in one house?  Right.  Are you twins with your brother?  Do you share the same name as well?  Something smells like a load of bullshit.  But I don’t know.  It’s not my problem really.  I’m out. 

            As far as I know, they’re still talking, which is fine if he’s not married with a child.  I’m still talking with Guy #1 (and having sex with him regularly).  Sando is on a roller coaster ride at the moment.  But her story can be told in another entry.