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I go to ****e's place yesterday to get a well-deserved fuck. Something is amiss when I walk from where I park my car to her place and I see a guy put out her dogs on the deck. Ah, shit, man -- she said she had no clients that day, and now she does? Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit.
Well, maybe she did him early and he's leaving. I ring the doorbell a few times. Eventually, the guy answers. He says ****e is in the spa and she'll need a half-hour. OK, so I go back in my car, open up my data on my phone and listen to Stephanie Miller, then march right back up to her place at 11. Ring the doorbell a couple more times: No answer. I try the door and, unlike at 10:30, it's open. I see the man again, but no ****e. I don't know that to do, so I close the door, try the doorbell a couple more times, the guy doesn't come down to get it, so I just fucking open the door and let myself in.
I am greeted by a couple of ****e's dogs who walk down to the bottom of the stairs, but no ****e. The guy, though, he sees me, and tells me I need to go. Now, I can take the guy; he's old and he's stammering his speech and he has trouble walking, so maybe I could bow up and bully him into telling me where the hell is she because I was supposed to fuck her. But I didn't see her, so I decided to just leave and text her later.
But just as I was about to leave, I hear ****e's voice: "Who's there?" It's coming from her bathroom. Fortunately, I have direct eyesight up to the bathroom from her entryway. "Oh, I have to go to the doctor's," she said. The doctor's? I thought you were free? Whatever. I texted her last night and she said she had an anxiety attack. I told her I'd catch her next time. She said, "Sure." No apology? I'd be so upset that I'd lay off her for a while, but I have no one else in my life who I sink balls deep into, so shit, I'll be seeing her soon.
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So instead of that, I went to the Megamall, texted up a couple other stripper friends who could be free for either a rubdown or a handjob. While I was waiting I decided to cool my heels at Hooters and eat 30 wings, and I described how that destroyed my colon in my last blog post. Also, I sharted, so I have had to replace my underwear four days early. Oh, and neither girlfriend could help me in my afternoon of need.
And then, while walking out of the mall to get my Doc Martens shined in downtown Minneapolis, I had an epiphany that hit me over the head like a hammer. I couldn't see my shoe-shiner. Because I wasn't wearing my Doc's. I had decided to wear my slip-on shoes that day, because (and I remember thinking this yesterday morning) it was my day off, I wanted to wear something light, and I usually don't wear my clunky Doc's when I see ****e. And it amazes me, and makes me feel stupid, that I once again did not marry two facts that do have something to do with each other. What I mean is, I made a point of bringing my shoe polish in the morning ... and then I thought to myself, on my way out the front door, "Yeah, I'm going to ****e's, so I will wear my slip-ons." At no point did I think, "Hmmm, if I am going to see my shoe-shiner to get my Doc's polished, I should wear my Doc's today, shouldn't I?"
Now, I will say that my overriding urge yesterday was to get fucked. And I don't think I have ever worn my Doc Martens to her place. But still. And also, it was yet another big thing I planned to do that did not happen, and this time around, this was my fault.
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It's at this low point in my life that I am mentally climbing the walls in order to have some good come from this day. And so, after I went back home (after getting a couple Pepsis and taking a quick walk around the park to work off those boneless wings) with shoulders slouched, I stayed in my car and I finally made a dentist appointment to get my teeth checked for this first time since the pandemic began. And that felt good, to be productive at all ... until I realized that I should have made my appointment for a week later. And I don't know when I'll have the time to change it.
Fuck my life. I have to go into work now. Maybe that will mean that my day won't wind up so shitty. Or, it might be just as bad.
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