The new one is a professional swimmer. He has raced with Michael Phelps, he must have to say as soon as every single person asks about Michael Phelps. He can swim slightly faster in a straight line than virtually anyone else in the world, except Michael Phelps. Also, many creatures with no frontal cortex can beat him easily. But he is connected to something shown on television. I bet guys who worked for Bernie Madoff got pussy when he hit the news. Just be something they’ve heard of.
Before that it was a guy who worked for Brad Pitt.* She liked him. He had access to Brad Pitt’s luxury box at Dodger Stadium and she took her kids and they all met Brad Pitt. Before that it was some director. Before that, some DJ. Before that a porn star, whom I envied until I saw what he had to fuck in his porns. I hope they paid him well. Before that it was a comedian. Then an editor who had money somehow and had just moved out from the South where he was cutting cartoons; before that a guy who had his own theatre production company. A guy who had worked at the White House as the Undersecretary of Something. The old guys with white hair had money, always. That was nice. Nice dinners, a present for the boy.
There was a professional wrestler, but he was transitioning out of it to produce his own “filmed entertainment.” He had the Hollywood spiel down. Saying you’re producing a short film starring the fifth lead in Arrested Development must sound like fairy dust to some chick in Des Moines but out here there is sadness behind it. You have foreknowledge of his failure that you try not to tip him off to, out of politeness. He probably financed it on credit cards. I will pray for him.
Another guy, with family money. This one was going to film school. He told a story about fucking his niece when she was fifteen. I was told he had a larger than average penis, which I imagined going into his niece. Their cocks were always described as large or average, never small. How is that possible. But I always had to ask, did he have a big dick. Otherwise she would go on and on and on about he’s a Creative Director for an advertising firm that helps nonprofits spread awareness of sex trafficking in Namibia. But did he have a big dick, I would say. How is this not the first thing you bring up.
Men and men and men; mostly it was East Side types, usually they were Jewish, usually they had three days growth of beard and wore those glasses that everybody in that part of town wears, usually they were the type of person who owns a corduroy suit. I have a thing for nerds, she said. They all love nerds, girls who don’t know what nerd means. Girls think nerd refers to the type of shoes a person wears. Converse means nerd because a guy in a band who wore glasses like a nerd also wore Converse. Girls have never seen a Warhammer 40K rulebook with half the pages dogeared, online argument upon online argument about Star Wars Expanded Universe novels.
Good looking men, fine men. I met many of them; they were charming as shit and interesting to talk to. She was getting bargains. But then, most girls are so boring. Most girls are so useless in conversation, and she isn’t. Her womb’s expired and she has three kids and drinks until she pisses herself; she lives in a shithole where her teenage son plays loud rhythmless Pink Floyd songs on an out of tune guitar over and over and over and you can’t even put a six pack of beer in the fridge because it’s packed to the gills with lamb tongues and giant school cafeteria-sized bags of rutabagas and there’s always cat shit somewhere. It’s cluttered and filthy and loud and it takes fucking forever to get there but you still go because she has pretty eyes and she can talk. She can make you laugh. The only woman, ever, in history, who has been able to do this and don’t you dare tell me about Maria Bamford or Tig Fucking Notaro.**
She remembered men by their jobs. Like name tags at a conference. This guy and this guy and this guy. I remember women by their tits. Less dehumanizing.
* Celebrity name changed
** Not to disparage their fine work