Benched

Hey, there! Mind if I sit down? You’re sure? Thanks...
I see you’re enjoying the afternoon, getting a bit of cool bench action, here, hitting the rays, watching the peeps and so on... Ha, ha. Don’t worry, I’m not a weirdo. Well... I guess that’s what all weirdos say, but really: I’m not one. Scout’s honor. Yeah... Ha ha. Lovely day, isn’t it? Yeah. Yeah... I see you got a ring on your finger, there. Married, then? Oh, yeah? Lovely, lovely. Good for you. Marriage is one great thing. Awesome wholesomeness and what have you... Me? No, no. Not married, no. No, no, no, no. No. Ha ha. No. Nope, no no. No. Definitely not, no...
Not that I’d mind, of course. But no. Haven’t found the right lady yet. Who’s single and got thumbs? This guy! Yeah... I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had many girlfriends, but... I don’t know... They were all sort of... Well... totally fucking crazy. I’ve gotten into the habit of calling myself a ‘self-labeled pride-less psycho magnet.’ Haha. Yeah, no: no pride, not anymore. I mean... At some point you gotta realize that pride is pretty goddamn pointless. What do I have to be proud about? I’m an overweight, late-thirties loser with no accomplishment whatsoever. Shit, I’m a waste of space, really. I’m sucking up the oxygen from the worthy people, you know? I mean, no, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’m scum or that I’m totally repulsive, but hey: I’m no spring chicken, and I’m no looker either. I know, I know, supposedly looks don’t matter. But that’s complete bullshit and you know it and I know it and they fucking know it. Yes: ‘they.’ The women... Man oh man...
Can I tell you something? Something pretty personal. Something I haven’t told anyone, ever, but... Well... Beautiful women make me sad. They really do. I mean there they are walking about, living their lives and I see them and I fall in love instantly and I think: ‘Wow, it would be amazing to kiss her lips. It would be amazing to caress those legs. It would be amazing to fall asleep next to this woman every night.’ And of course,  I mean we’re men, here: ‘Wow, I’d love to fuck her brains out.’ But of course that never happens. Because they’re a different breed, a different race, a difference species all together! They glide by, knowing men and woman alike want them and they know they’re at the top of the proverbial food chain and unless you’re some toned asshole, or some rich asshole, or just some asshole, you’ll never find out what color their panties are. And that’s totally fucked. I mean, for example... There’s this bar I go to sometimes and there’s this really cute waitress there. I don’t wanna say gorgeous or beautiful, but just super cute, she just looks... well... tight. I don’t mean her poon, you know, I mean her body. You know? She’s... she’s petite and fit, right? I know, I kinda sound like a Google’s search result of '1001 perversions,’ but you know what I mean, yeah? Anyway, I say hello when I go there and she says hello and I always want to talk to her but I never do. You know why?... That’s right, you said it: 'cos she’s a fucking waitress! I mean a guy chatting up some waitress, her freak radar goes ape-shit, her defensive walls go up and at best she politely smiles at you. At worst, she calls the bouncer and his biker friends and you end up in the hospital with broken legs and your dick shoved so far up your ass they gotta perform a tonsillectomy to get it out. You know what I mean. Anyway, it’s fucked. How many creeps chat up this waitress every night? My estimate is a baker’s dozen. At least. And anyway, a woman like that has to have a boyfriend, you know? I mean a girl like that can’t be single and-- what’s that?... Yeah, okay, sure: she could have a girlfriend. Point is: she’s taken, unavailable. Plus, you know what? I lied... I said she wasn’t gorgeous or beautiful. That’s a total lie I tell myself so I’ll fall asleep without weeping. She’s pretty damn stunning. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Were she a blind single desperate nympho, I’d still find a way to fuck it up. Yeah, it’s fun to be me...
Excuse me? Oh, no, no. Surprisingly, no. My girlfriends have always been super hot. Or least above average. On average.  At least that’s my opinion, which at the end of the end is the only one I care about, you know? But I’ve always felt the girls I was with were out of my league, but they seemed to like me enough. But you know... As soon as a girl likes me, I figure she’s full of shit because I know there’s no way a girl like that would like a guy like me. So I don’t trust her. Yeah, no, really: it’s fun to be me.
Shit, talking about that waitress and that bar made me thirsty. Want a drink? No, I know there are no bars around here, but I always carry a fifth of bourbon in this here pocket. And one of rum in that pocket, here. Yeah, well... My father used to say: 'There are 'the glass-is-half-full kinda people and there 'the glass-is-half-empty’ kinda people but that doesn’t matter because trouble only starts when the bottle is half empty.’ Ha! So, yeah. Bourbon for me. Want rum? no? You sure? You can have the bourb’ I’ll go for the Jamaican fire water if you want. No? You sure? Suit yourself. Don’t mind me...
Oh, yes: That hit the spot! Anyway, what was I saying?... I don’t know either!
Huh?... Oh, yeah: some of my girlfriends were hot. Yeah. Weird. I was with this one girl, really great body, amazing in bed and all... And God she loved me. I mean it was scary how much she loved me and how quickly she decided that she did. But she did. And she showed it... Every time she came over, she brought me a little gift and she cooked for me and when she was looking at me, I could see love in her eyes like I’d never seen it before. Or since. I mean, it was absolute devotion. But at the end of the day that wasn’t enough for me. I mean... the love and devotion, she was like a cooking puppy that I fucked. It’s cool, but just not enough, you know? Yeah...
So I broke up with her and she wept. I mean literally. I had never seen anyone weep before. It was weird. And lemme tell you something else: that got me hard. I almost proposed a good- bye fuck, but I kinda had the feeling that would not be the right thing to say at that particular point in time. But I’m sure I coulda gone away with it, somehow.
Funny thing is: she still calls me and wants to see him. I was a dick to her and she still likes me. So, yeah... Being an asshole always work. That’s fucked up. I’ve written poems for girls, I’ve wined and dined them, I was gentle and affectionate... And I got dumped. Because I was too kind or too gentle.
Fuck... Seriously... I’m gonna turn into a raping cannibal and then I’ll get all the poon I want!
Haha, no, no: don’t get nervous, I’m only kidding. I couldn’t rape anyone, I don’t have the stamina. I even had a girlfriend who asked me to pretend I was raping her and I couldn’t do it, so you know: I’m cool, don’t worry.
Shit, bourbon on a summer afternoon is nice. You’re a cool dude, man, I’m glad I ran into you. I’m sorry I’ve been rambling a bit, but you know how it is... Yeah? You gotta go, really? back to work? Well... Shit... Good luck, man. You sure you can’t stay a bit longer? No, no, I understand, you gotta go. Work calls! Yeah, you take care, too, buddy. Bye! No, no, don’t worry about me, I’ll be here with my drinks and my thoughts, perfectly happy to be on my own.
Yup.
All on my own.