him. He picked the place, he ordered his food. He ate his food and since I can be a slow eater at times, he then decided he should help me eat my food. No, I did not ask him to eat my food. If I could not finish it, which I can, then I would take it home to eat later.
"I do not know what to say to that." I respond snapping back into the conversation.
"Say yes and give me your car. Come on! You can just buy another one." He says while he continues to eat my food.
"Actually I can't." I say crossing my arms.
"Yes you can." He whines grabbing hold of my soda and sipping it.
"No I can't, I really can't even afford this one." I say motioning to my car.
"You are the one percent." He accuses, dunking another one of my French fries into salad dressing.
"I'm not; I'm really the 99 percent." I plead.
"Look, I'll make you a deal ok. I will buy you a bus pass in exchange for your car." He offers. What the what? He will trade me a ten dollar buss pass for my fifteen hundred dollar car. How is this a fair trade.
"No." I say with confidence.
"Why do you put me down? Why are you doing this to me?" He bangs his fists on the table.
"But I'm not doing anything." I plead.
"You are not helping me." He shouts.
"I can help you by not giving you my car." I raise my voice.
"How can you help me then?"Markus asks calming down from his outburst.
"I can tell you to use the bus pass for yourself."' I suggest.
"You just don't get it, do you?" Markus assumes. He assumes I don't understand why he needs my car; he assumes I am just some fat cat who works in a corporate office, who makes a six figure income. He assumes that this is a justified request. That me losing my car is like me misplacing a pen. Perhaps he also assumes that in me giving him my car I will be saving the world. But it won't. The only thing that giving him my car will accomplish is him getting a car and thus me loosing mine. It won't touch the hearts of the rich because I'm not rich. Plus, what makes him more deserving then me? Why should he get something of mine? I think people make too many assumptions. Don't you hate people who expect everyone else to give them stuff? Why don't they work hard so they can have the things they want? But, why should they? People often do give them things. People who deserve thing to be given to them have to work and work for nothing, while people who don't deserve anything get everything handed to them. Life sucks!
"I'm sorry" I say meekly. He wouldn't understand that I wasn't rich. He sees me as someone who has something he wants. That's it. He didn't want to date me, he just saw that I had a car and thought he could get me to give it to him.
"You should go." He demands. He is right, I should go. There is no reason for me to stay on this mock date. Because it was never a date remember? It was just a camouflaged extortion attempt.
"Ok." I say, then get up and leave. Is it weird that I'm more upset that he ate my food than I am at another failed relationship attempt? I think it can be easy to be offend. Hell, he ate my food and bugged me to give him my only car. However, I'm not. Sometimes dates affect me differently, it could have been worse. He could have stolen it.
Chapter thirty three
Thomas Wagner, twenty eight, blue eyes, black hair and a gnarly tattoo of Mickey mouse on his arm. The cop mustache is a bit much, but everything else is looking good-really good! Now you I like. You are like a gangster, no hipster nonsense for you. Let's text shall we.
"Hi Tom. How are you?" We text a good half a day. Hooray, go me. We start sending photos and something looks off. In all of his photos he is wearing the same uniform as everyone else. He is in some sort of encampment. These pictures just don't sit well with me. " Are you in jail?" I ask.
"Nope, I got out a month ago." Thomas quickly texts me a updated headshot. In this photo he is smoking a cigar and sitting on a bookcase. Surprising as it might sound, being an ex con is fairly common.
"I do not know what to say to that." I respond snapping back into the conversation.
"Say yes and give me your car. Come on! You can just buy another one." He says while he continues to eat my food.
"Actually I can't." I say crossing my arms.
"Yes you can." He whines grabbing hold of my soda and sipping it.
"No I can't, I really can't even afford this one." I say motioning to my car.
"You are the one percent." He accuses, dunking another one of my French fries into salad dressing.
"I'm not; I'm really the 99 percent." I plead.
"Look, I'll make you a deal ok. I will buy you a bus pass in exchange for your car." He offers. What the what? He will trade me a ten dollar buss pass for my fifteen hundred dollar car. How is this a fair trade.
"No." I say with confidence.
"Why do you put me down? Why are you doing this to me?" He bangs his fists on the table.
"But I'm not doing anything." I plead.
"You are not helping me." He shouts.
"I can help you by not giving you my car." I raise my voice.
"How can you help me then?"Markus asks calming down from his outburst.
"I can tell you to use the bus pass for yourself."' I suggest.
"You just don't get it, do you?" Markus assumes. He assumes I don't understand why he needs my car; he assumes I am just some fat cat who works in a corporate office, who makes a six figure income. He assumes that this is a justified request. That me losing my car is like me misplacing a pen. Perhaps he also assumes that in me giving him my car I will be saving the world. But it won't. The only thing that giving him my car will accomplish is him getting a car and thus me loosing mine. It won't touch the hearts of the rich because I'm not rich. Plus, what makes him more deserving then me? Why should he get something of mine? I think people make too many assumptions. Don't you hate people who expect everyone else to give them stuff? Why don't they work hard so they can have the things they want? But, why should they? People often do give them things. People who deserve thing to be given to them have to work and work for nothing, while people who don't deserve anything get everything handed to them. Life sucks!
"I'm sorry" I say meekly. He wouldn't understand that I wasn't rich. He sees me as someone who has something he wants. That's it. He didn't want to date me, he just saw that I had a car and thought he could get me to give it to him.
"You should go." He demands. He is right, I should go. There is no reason for me to stay on this mock date. Because it was never a date remember? It was just a camouflaged extortion attempt.
"Ok." I say, then get up and leave. Is it weird that I'm more upset that he ate my food than I am at another failed relationship attempt? I think it can be easy to be offend. Hell, he ate my food and bugged me to give him my only car. However, I'm not. Sometimes dates affect me differently, it could have been worse. He could have stolen it.
Chapter thirty three
Thomas Wagner, twenty eight, blue eyes, black hair and a gnarly tattoo of Mickey mouse on his arm. The cop mustache is a bit much, but everything else is looking good-really good! Now you I like. You are like a gangster, no hipster nonsense for you. Let's text shall we.
"Hi Tom. How are you?" We text a good half a day. Hooray, go me. We start sending photos and something looks off. In all of his photos he is wearing the same uniform as everyone else. He is in some sort of encampment. These pictures just don't sit well with me. " Are you in jail?" I ask.
"Nope, I got out a month ago." Thomas quickly texts me a updated headshot. In this photo he is smoking a cigar and sitting on a bookcase. Surprising as it might sound, being an ex con is fairly common.
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