Intuition Only Works When You Listen To It

Remind me to listen to my natural instincts when I feel like I don't want to go out with someone.

Guierrmo and I met up at The Yardhouse after he got off work (meaning he was still in his little Verizon get-up, an ill-fitting pair of trousers and a button up shirt and clip-on tie combo, and amazingly still a nametag... how sexy) where I found him sitting at the bar drinking the last third of a dual-colored beer. He smiled at me but shyly didn't stand to hug me. I asked what he was drinking. I'm assuming he thought I was born yesterday and thought I would be impressed by the name "snakebite." I replied, "I didn't take you for the type to drink pear cider in a bar with the world's largest selection of draft beer," to which he replied with an insincere/embarrassed laugh, motioned to the bartender, and sheepishly ordered a black and tan. I ordered an Anchor Steam. Off to a good start I see.

He didn't have much to say but kept smiling and staring through increasingly glazed eyes, which only made the situation more awkward. But as we all know, alcohol makes anyone look cuter and seem more interesting, so after a couple more pints I started having a pretty good time. Beer tends to bring out the flirtier side of me and this wasn't any exception.

Further into the conversation he mentioned he had a formal coming up and was wondering if I'd go with him. Uh oh.

"You're in a frat??"

"No, I'm in a fraternity. 'Frat' is disrespectful."

Here we go.

As if being a sleazy, pushy cell phone salesman wasn't enough, on top of a totally over-available desperate 22 year old boy, he belongs to a frat. Yep. A frat. I made a point to refer to it as a "frat" at every available opportunity. Why not? This was only going to go south. But not in the cool sexual way. He asked if I wanted to see where he lived. How could I resist?

We took his car, and upon starting the ignition, found that song, "Beautiful" was on. (You know the one... "You're way too beautiful girl, thats why it would never work, you've got me suicidal, suicidal when you say its over...") He said, "Oh look your song's on!" Fabulous.

When we finally got to his 'hood, which turned out to be about 35 minutes away (great), we parked and walked into the scummiest and most run down living situation.... each piece of furniture was being held together with duct tape, there were beer cans strewn generously over every part of the house, holes upon holes punched into the walls, strange colors of unknown matter smeared across the walls, doors broken off hinges... and I'll spare you the details of the kitchen and bathrooms. I held my breath 'til we got out to the backyard, where there was a party happening that he hadn't been aware of. Hot dogs were being soaked in Bud Light (which everyone was drinking as well) and barbequed. I was introduced to the few guys who stayed home to have about 30 girls over, none of which I was introduced to.

One in particular started shooting me mad-dog glares since she saw me walk out with Guierrmo, and I'm assuming they've either been hooking up or she wants to. After a few more beers she walked up to me, standing right next to him, and slurred a speech about how he's a "scammer." What a scammer is I couldn't tell you, but I got the feeling it wasn't good. She told me I should stay away from him. Not a problem!

I finally convinced him that my headache was bad enough to warrant a trip back to The Yardhouse where my car was parked (case and point.... never depend on the guy to get you somewhere, it's so easy to get stuck) and we drove back in mostly silence, though every few minutes he asked what was wrong, and said he got the feeling I didn't like him very much. I didn't respond with anything but, "I'm just tired."

We got back to my car, and he leaned in for a kiss. I gave him my cheek and said I'd call him. I won't.

Moral of the story: If a guy has to put that much effort into talking you into hanging out with him, you probably shouldn't. Go with your gut.

I guess it is the network.

These days, cellphone technology evolves so quickly that a girl's gotta update her phone on a very regular basis if she wants to keep up with what's hot. And considering my entire life pretty much revolves around this wallet-sized piece of technology, I'm picky.

After doing a tiny bit of research and keeping my eye out for the phones I've been seeing my friends getting, and since I have Verizon and not AT&T (sorry iPhoners), I decided on a Palm Treo.

My New-Every-Two deal was up so I headed into the store to get my new pride and joy, thinking I was going to get a hefty deal on it. No such luck. I ended up having to talk to this guy, Guierrmo (who, I'll admit, is kind of a hottie.... but he needs to pick a new name for suresies), for like an hour and a half to try to work out something better (even a tech-savvy chick like myself doesn't feel like shelling out a whole $600 for something I'm going to drop within a month), since I guess its one of their most expensive models.

Not to toot my own horn too extravagantly, but I can be quite the charmer when I want to be, and I definitely wanted to be. It was clear that this Guierrmo guy had taken a liking to me, with all the unabashed flirting and staring he was doing, and I knew all I had to do was be cute and bat my eyelashes a little to get my way.

I ended up with a greatly discounted service plan and an extra $150 off the phone, plus the usual discount for the new 2-year contract. But that wasn't all. When I got home and started trying to figure out how to use my new gadget, I received a text message.

"Hi, this is Guierrmo with Verizon Wireless.
Feel free to text or call me if you have
any questions about your new phone."

Apparently he'd sneakily written down my cell number while entering it into the computer to update my contract. It was a pretty normal-seeming message, and I had to wonder if maybe I was overreacting... maybe this is a new standard of customer service? As they say... "It's the Network." I wrote back. I had to. Maybe I was a little bit of a smart-ass, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Wow.... pretty personalized customer
service you guys offer huh?"

To which he replied:

"Yeah, it's the network. ;-)"

So that settled it. He was definitely flirting. Customer service doesn't involve wink emoticons, if you ask me.

A few days went by and I did have a question about my phone that I couldn't find anywhere in the instruction manual, so I texted him and asked him why it kept turning the word "anything" into "thanksgiving" when I was sending text messages.

Bad idea. Then came an onslaught (we're talking.... 5 days worth) of texts and phone calls (just voicemails... you didn't think I'd answer, did you?) asking me to hang out, and telling me how awesome and hot he thinks I am, and how he hopes I'm having a great holiday and how I'm his Christmas wish. Wow. Has he ever heard of playing hard to get? I could teach him a thing or two. The Art of Seduction (the book and the philosophy) is all about not being very available... he should read it.

Hate to say it, boys and girls, but my arm's pretty twistable....

We're going out tonight.