You know, I really need to start thinking of better pseudo names for these men. I’m starting to feel kind of bad for writing about them. But dammit these stories are just too good not to tell!
Today’s post is about The Pizza Man, since I bumped into him on Halloween and it reminded me that I’ve never told you about him.
The ex and I broke up in the very beginning of March. I spent a solid 3 weeks crying uncontrollably, eating a shit ton of ice cream, and smoking enough pot that I’d actually start laughing while I was crying. I’m telling you-that was the best fix. One thing my ex and I rarely did was go out. I ALWAYS wanted to go to the bars or go out dancing on the weekends and he much rather would have stayed in on a Friday and be in bed by 10 o’clock. And there I was, girlfriend of the year, right in bed with him, dreaming of sugar plum fairies, whiskey and really shitty strobe lights. Alas, my dreams didn’t come true. Why on Earth was I with this man, again?
So after a few weeks of emptying my tear ducts of memories, anger, resentment, and heart ache, I decided it was time for a night out with my friends. The infamous “First Single Night Out.” I got my pretty girl rock on and headed out downtown with a few of my friends. It was actually quite the evening. The bartender gave us free shots all night and I got a few drinks bought for me by a man who thought he was the King of Game. He honestly bought me drinks, turned and bought shots for other girls, and then had the AUDACITY to turn to me ask if I wanted to go to dinner with him sometime. Are you SERIOUS BRAH?
Anyways, my friends and I have a drunken tradition of getting pizza after the bars close. The only pizza place in town that stays open that late is always super mega maaaaad busy, so I’ve started to call them for delivery while in the girls bathroom at the bar. That way, we get home, we drink a little more, and then in a few minutes: POOF. Pizza’s here. No waiting.
I called for pizza. I closed my tab. We left. We got back to my friend’s house and we were absolute messes. My makeup was pretty much dripping from my eyes. I whipped my bra and shirt off, leaving just my tank top, threw my hair up in a messy bun, and smoked a cigarette.
A few minutes later, the pizza man called. I grabbed the money, ran downstairs, opened the door, and—-
That’s the best lookin’ pizza man I’ve seen, maybe, ever? And there I was, looking like a freaking prostitute at 2 in the morning. As I gave him the quick “up and down” with my eyes, I gave him the money, and walked away. I got back to my friend’s apartment and was just star struck. He was beautiful. How did I let that one go?
But then I remembered: He called me. On his cellphone.
In case you haven’t realized this by now, I’m sort of a “go-getter.” If I want something bad enough, I’m gonna try my hardest for it. So I did what any normal girl would do at 2 in the morning and I texted him.
“I just wanted to let you know, you are by far the most beautiful man to ever deliver a pizza to me.”
Yeah, guys. I went there.
He was flattered, clearly. What guy wouldn’t be after seeing something like that pop up from his phone? We texted back and forth for a little bit and then I passed out. I couldn’t believe he even responded. I legit looked like a MESS of a human being.
Fast forward to three months later. He added me on SnapChat. Ohhhh, the internets. Bringing people together since ’00. We snap chatted for a few weeks and then I decided to go in for the kill.
Now, please remember guys, at this point my break up was still a fresh wound. I didn’t want a relationship right then and there. But to go every day makin’ sweet, sweet love to being cut off BONE DRY all of sudden? That hurt a tad bit more than the break up itself.
In other words: I needed to get laid.
Pizza Man kept asking me to go out for drinks, dinner, out with his friends, yadadada and I just wasn’t having it. I didn’t want to go through the motions, I wanted to cut to the chase.
So finally, I just said it.
“Why don’t I just come to your place sometime next week?”
I went to his house that following Tuesday. We sat on the couch and talked about absolutely nothing for like an hour. No spark, guys. I’m glad I didn’t agree to dinner. He was still really good looking though. He finally took the next step and went in for the kill.
And it was….kind of awful.
It was honestly the most boring sex I’ve ever had in my entire life. No connection. No rhythm. Just quick and boring. He had the BRIGHTEST lights on ever the whole time. Now, I don’t like having sex in the complete dark, but I also don’t want to feel like I have to wonder if I’m having sex or being abducted by aliens.
THAT is what I tried so hard for? I could have had a better time in my bedroom, by myself, with some crazy good porn. I wouldn’t have had to drive anywhere, force conversation, or think of a way of making a quick exit.
“Oh, wow. Look at the time!”
Yeap. That’s EXACTLY what I said.
I threw my clothes on and I was OUUUUTA THUUUR.
He’d try to SnapChat me from time to time. I’d snap him back, but then my responses got less and less. It was just sex. I made that clear. So I didn’t feel bad not contacting him. Plus, I really didn’t want to tell him he sucked in bed. He had two kids for Christ’s sake. Who wanted to do him THAT much that he got kids out of it?
Fast forward to two months ago. I went to Trader Joes with a friend to do some organic shopping. I smoked a little before, because, well, grocery shopping stoned is probably the most fun thing ever! My friend went into a different section of the store. I was in the frozen section, pushing my carriage along. I went to take a turn and bumped into this couple.
I looked up with my super red eyes at the person I hit with my wagon.
IT WAS MR. PIZZA MAN.
WITH A MS. PIZZA MAN?
I legit just looked down, said “excuse me” and kept walking. Phew. He has a girlfriend. Now I don’t feel that bad for not calling him back.
A week later, he SnapChats me. I don’t respond.
Fast forward to last Friday. My sister, her friends, and I get to the bar super early and everyone is in costume. We were there for a few hours. I kept seeing this Bruce Wayne looking dude walk by and stare at me, but I didn’t think anything of it. Finally at the end of the night, I went to close my tab. All of a sudden Bruce Wayne is across the bar looking at me again.
IT’S MR. PIZZA MAN.
Talking to a significantly younger Ms. Pizza Man. Who isn’t the same Ms. Pizza Man from the grocery store.
I signed my receipt and left.
He lives 20-25 minutes away from me. Why must I run into him THIS much? Why can’t I run into any other good lookin’ dudes that I actually want to run into?
“Because, Lara. We like to make life interesting.”
Oh. Okay, Universe. Thanks for lettin’ me know.
Needless to say, I blocked him from SnapChat. And I will never do a pizza guy again.