lundi 5 décembre 2005

If I drank less, I'd remember more, but what fun is that?

The promise of four future residences.

That's what it takes for me to give a guy my number.

It's also always easier when I'm liquored up and haven't eaten dinner.

That the four promised residences are in LA, Paris, and NY aren't bad either. I don't remember exactly where in each city our future houses are going to be (hi, alcohol = memory like a sieve!), but I do remember that I asked and apparently he gave good enough answers. Oh, and the fourth residence is a YACHT.

I'm easily sold, sometimes. Because I'm a real estate whore like that. However, I'm not terribly interested in him, and if I remember correctly, he's definitely not my type (and I was far more interested in another guy at the party, but I'll be seeing him with friends tonight) but I would go out on a date or two because he was a good talker, and anyone who knows me knows how important that is for me, and also, he happens to be the brother of a rather notorious character. (Sadly, I don't remember his name. Goddammit. But I never remember anyone's name.) The stories, y'all. I go on dates for the stories.

But I will be fascinated if he can follow directions, as I specifically said to not call until after Friday, when my papers are over. I'm all sorts of demanding, you see. It is sad, but there have been guys in the past who have NOT followed a simple instruction like, "I promise I will call you on Monday, but I'm busy until then so please don't call." Nope. They call, I scowl at caller ID and chuck my phone across the room. I like guys who follow rules, as long as they're my rules. It really does make life so much easier.