Let Me Steal Your Number And Put It In My Purse

Today, K gave me her cell phone number. And I, of course, gave her mine, too, following that. She said it was in case one of us couldn’t make it to class we could call the other and have them sign the roll sheet. You can get in deep shit over that, so I’m not too crazy about the idea of it.

K and I have gotten pretty close over the semester. So close, I’m thinking about asking if she wants to go out some time. Next Friday maybe? She’s definitely a candidate.

I hope she doesn’t think there’s anything special going on between us. I have a bad habit of making it seem that way only to crush their hearts when I run from them after they start making advances. It’s been awhile since I’ve broken a girl’s heart though. I don’t want to do it again (however I’ll admit to enjoying it in a cynical way at times).

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I went to Target today and, for the first time, walked out with nothing. Nothing.

I couldn’t find anything I needed. I went in looking for some dumbbells. They didn’t have any. For a Pink CD. They didn’t have it. For several books. They didn’t have any of them.

So, I left. With nothing.

I didn’t expect them to have many, if any, dumbbells, but I kind of expected them to have the CD and at least one of the books (they weren’t too off-the-wall). Oh well. I would have gone to Academy Sports or the mall instead, but I didn’t have the time or patience to deal with the road construction around that area. I had about an hour before my next class started, so I didn’t want to risk getting stuck in traffic while they took 30 minutes to move a roller to the other side of the road. Ah, progressive.

I always feel a little strange going into stores. I look like I’ve got my pockets stuffed with shit I’m trying to steal. I have my keys and cell phone in one of the front pockets. It looks like I’m rocking a very twisted hard-on. My checkbook usually goes in the other pocket. It makes it look like a big rectangular slab has grown on the side of my leg. I expect five cops to jump out of… somewhere when I’m leaving a store and strip search me (I would only agree if they do it too). But, different pants have different effects. Some are much better than others. My tighter-fitting pants – my butt pants – oddly seem to do better than the loose/baggy ones. Unfortunately, I was wearing one of my baggy pants today (they do a horrible job of showing off my ass too).

I guess I just need to get a purse!