Organ Harvesting

When I got home from dinner with DGII last Tuesday I wasn't feeling so great. My new dating schedule has me drinking 4-5 nights a week, so naturally when the right side of abdomen felt like I was kicked by a mule I assumed the worst: sirrhosis of the liver.

I was on the road for work Wednesday, main-lining coffee and eating rich foods, so when I still didn't feel great that night I didn't think much of it. I wasn't in any real pain, there was just a dull, throbbing, pressure in my belly like I was bloated.

However, I woke Thursday morning to an intense shooting pain under my right lower ribs. A quick consultation with WebMD changed my self-diagnosis from liver disease to kidney stones. I was supposed to fly to South America Sunday night for work so I decided to deviate from my normal "no doctor" policy and scheduled an appointment to get the problem checked out before I got on a plane for ten hours.

As expected the trip to my doctor was a complete waste of time. After hours in the waiting room and a five minute exam he sent me for a CAT scan, which because of health care red-tape could not be scheduled until Friday morning. In the meantime I was treated to two giant containers of barium sulfate, which if you haven't had the pleasure, looks, smells, and probably tastes like lead-based paint. Delicious. After the scan I grabbed lunch then headed home to await the call from the doctor with the results.

At 3:30 my doctor called and said my kidneys looked clear but my appendix was enlarged. I was no longer in pain and he surmised I was likely in the clear, but that it would be prudent to have a surgeon take a look at the scans and clear me for travel. Being late in the afternoon on a Friday my doctor said the only place I could likely see a surgeon was the ER. I asked him if he thought this was absolutely necessary and he said he "strongly encouraged it". Given the length of my flight and the medical care available in southern Chile I opted to go to the ER for a quick look.

I pulled into the hospital and parked in the visitor's lot thinking that I would be in and out. I signed in at the front desk and explained that I needed a surgeon to review my scans and clear me for a flight. Within twenty minutes I was half naked and a nurse was inserting a rather large needle into my arm to start an IV drip. I kept saying "No, this really isn't necessary, I just need the doc to take a look at my scans". The nurses all just nodded and kept on swabbing and poking.

Finally a doctor introduced herself and asked me why I was there. I told her the story and she gave me an exam. She said that since I wasn't in any pain I would likely be cleared to fly and sent home, but that she wanted the surgeon and radiologist to look me over first. A short while later another doctor examined me then walked off with my scans. I was hooked up to an IV and was only wearing a johnny coat, so I just sat there and read the book I had brought along. A nurse darted in and out of my room so I flirted with her for a while until she asked me when my last bowel movement was, which pretty much killed any connection we had established. I may use that next time I'm in a bar and want to get away from a girl.

Thirty minutes passed before Nurse Bowel Movement returned and started hooking up new bags to my IV drip and asked if I wanted to call anyone. I said "No, why?" and she said "To let them know about your surgery." I said "What surgery, no one told me about any surgery", and she said "You have an acute appendicitis, they are going to remove it. They called the PA and anaesthesiologist, they should be here shortly"...I said "Sweet".

Now they put me on a gurney and rolled me to an elevator. We went up a floor or two and when the door opened we were greeted by four women who started hammering me with questions. "Do you smoke, do you do cocaine, do you smoke marijuana, have you ever had abdominal surgery before, do you have a living will, how did you get to the hospital, are you allergic to any medications, who would you like called in the event of an emergency..." The list went on and I was starting to get nervous. I was still in my johnny coat but I had all my clothes and my cell phone in a plastic bag on my lap, so I went through the bag and pulled out my phone. I quickly called my parents to let them know what I was going on. I didn't tell them earlier in the week about my abdominal pains because I didn't want to get them nervous, so naturally they were pretty shocked to learn I was being wheeled into the ER at that very moment. I finally said "OK, Mom, I gotta go, they want to put me under now..." and hung up. I later got a good yelling at for that.

The last step was when a security guard come up to me and said "I'm here to inventory your belongings". The guy counted my cash, made note of my credit cards, wrote down the model number of my cell phone, then made me sign two inventory sheets. I said "This is kind of like jail" but no one found that funny. He was just about to walk away and the nurse said "You forgot his watch". Anyone who knows me knows I don't take my watch off for anything except to put on another watch. I said "I'm not taking it off". She said I couldn't go into surgery with it on. Reluctantly, I took off my Rolex and handed it to a complete stranger. This went against every instinct I had. I signed off on the watch and the guard promptly dropped it on the floor. I said "Oh, yeah, that's great for it. The owner's manually actually says to drop it on the floor once a month. Thanks." and with that the guard walked off. I came to terms with the fact that I would probably never see the watch again. I probably should have been more concerned with my appendix than my watch, but it took my mind off the fact that I was about to gutted like a pig.

I don't remember much between the watch hitting the floor and waking up in a room late that night. My first thought when my eyes opened was that I felt like I had been in a fight. My stomach, throat and groin were killing me. I later learned that I had been intubated to keep from choking and a catheter was inserted to drain my bladder. So I was wrong, I hadn't been in a fight, I had been raped. Thanks, hospital.

Since the surgery I have been splayed out on my couch watching movies and reading. I can move around a little, but I feel like an octogenarian. I walk hunched over, can only wear sweatpants and loose t-shirts, I keep forgettting what day it is, and I haven't really left the house since Saturday.

DGII

After a few weeks of trying to schedule a time to get together, DGII and I finally met up last night for dinner on the Hill. She's a cool girl and overall the night went well, but I did not get the sense there was much connection.

I spoke with DGII Monday night and we decided to get together for a drink after work. We agreed on a spot and I said I would pick her up at 7pm. At 7pm she called and asked for a "courtesy fifteen". Not a problem on the first date, so I said sure and gave her a "courtesy thirty".

I showed up at DGII's house, knocked on the door, then heard a bunch of yelling inside. I thought I heard "Come in!", but just before I opened the door I thought "Maybe she said coming, and not come in" so I decided to wait for her to open the door. When she did I was greeted by her and a little growling pit bull.

I had only briefly met DGII a couple of times, and I think both at night, so I didn't really remember what she looked like, but I was pleasantly surprised when I saw her again. She's about 5'8", thin, with long strait jet-black hair and really big brown eyes.

Our plans were to get drinks but when we arrived at the restaurant it was packed. Most of the tables were full and there were no open seats at the bar. We walked to the hostess station and DGII said "Did you make a reservation", and I said "No, I didn't think we would need one on a Tuesday night". She said "That's OK, I called ahead". Normally I would think this was a presumptive move, but given how busy the place was I was impressed. To be honest, I felt like a dick for not thinking of it myself.

I thought dinner went well. We had a fair amount in common and she is easy to talk to and likes to laugh. She is very confident and wasn't afraid to swear or touch on topics that most girls avoid. For instance, I told her I was from a large family and that I was a "surprise" to my parents. She laughed then started to say something, but then stopped and I could tell she had something funny but was holding back. When I pressed her she said she has a friend who was also a "surprise" and that he refers to himself as "a load that was meant to be swallowed". I thought it was hysterical, and I've never heard it put quote so delicately before.

The other noteworthy thing about DGII was that her voice and delivery didn't match her appearance. She has a quiet, reserved look about her, but she talks like a Brooklyn trucker. It's more how she says things than the actual content (above example excluded). DGII has a tough-guy chip on her shoulder like she grew up with a bunch of big older brothers (which I later confirmed she didn't). It would be easy to catigorize the way she talks as unpolished, but I like it and took it as a sign that she was relaxed.

We finished dinner around 11pm and I was exhausted so I didn't suggest getting a drink afterwards, but it was late enough on a school night that I didn't think a night cap or anything else was expected. We talked about music and a few other things on the drive home, and when we pulled up to her house she just kept on talking. At first she was just finishing her story, then she started rambling on and I wasn't sure if she was stalling waiting for me to do something or stalling so that I couldn't make a move. When she ran out of breath I said "OK, well, I had a great time, let's do something when I get back into town in a few weeks (I have two weeks of business travel coming up)", she said "Yeah, that would be great", then spread her arms really wide and came in for this big exaggerated hug, which in my experience is never a good sign.

I didn't hear anything from DGII today and didn't call or text either. However, I think tomorrow I will shoot her a text just to say I had a good time.



I

Criticism

I thought I should briefly address the recent criticism. In short, I don't know any of you and don't care what you think of me. I don't care if you read my blog or like my writing style. I don't care if you think I'm an asshole (which I generally admit I am) or full of shit. I am simply retelling events in my life because I think the dating scene in DC is interesting. Often I just copy and paste emails that I sent to friends into the blog then change names, places, or slightly blurr timelines to cover my identity. If you want to read something that has been fact-checked go buy a New York Times. If you want to criticize, I am fine with that, believe me when I tell you that you're not hurting my feelings. The comments are usually amusing to me, especially when someone accuses me of defending myself as an anonymous poster. The irony is that if I did have something to gain from this blog I would be better off posting anonymous criticism than defensive rhetoric because the hits on the page go through the roof when the criticism is posted.

Enough on this, go about your day.

Special Brownies

Saturday night I had plans to get dinner at Marvin and see a show at the Black Cat with ME. ME has never done any drugs, but had been wanting to try weed, so to spice things up a bit I brought along some special brownies.

Before I get to the brownies I need to talk about ME's inability to be on-time for anything. We've gone out thirty or forty times now and she's never been on time. She's always thirty minutes late so I've started just factoring that into our plans. Saturday night the show started at 9, and I figured it takes an hour to eat, so I asked her to meet me at the restaurant at 7:30.

I arrived at 7:25 and like clockwork received a text from her saying she was running a half hour late. Then, at 8 she sent me another text saying she was 20 minutes away. When she still wasn't there at 8:30 I texted her and said I was leaving when I finished my cocktail, so she had about ten minutes. ME's next text said "Wait, trust me, I'll make it up to you". I wasn't really going to leave but I was pissed. She showed up just about ten minutes later.

After I gave ME shit for a few minutes I pulled the brownies from my coat pocket and placed one on her bread plate and one on mine. She said "What's that?", and I said "It's a brownie, a special brownie". ME was confused, she picked it up, smelled it, and asked where I got it. I told her my friend made them for me for Halloween. She said "Why would you keep a brownie that long, what's so special about it?" Maybe they don't have pot brownies in the middle east. Despite her heavy accent I sometimes forget ME didn't grow up in the US and doesn't always understand my pop culture (or drug) references. In a hushed tone so the couple at the table next to us couldn't hear I said "It was frozen. It's a pot brownie. You said you wanted to try them?".

I was expecting a million questions from ME, but instead she just popped the whole thing in her mouth, chewed a couple of times, swallowed, then said "It's dry, but good". I shrugged and ate mine as well.

My sister had tried one of the brownies and said it was VERY strong, like "stuck on the couch all day" strong, so I cut one brownie in half for ME and I to share. It was her first time and didn't want her to be overwhelmed.

Within twenty minutes I started to feel the tell-tale tingling sensation of the pot kicking in. I asked ME if she felt anything and she no. A few minutes later I saw her muttering to herself so I asked her who she was talking to? ME said "I was just saying my address." I asked why and she said "Because I thought I forgot it". I leaned in and said "You're stoned, trust me".

When we got to the Black Cat we were in the full grip of the brownies. I got us drinks as the opening act took the stage. When they started to play ME said "The music, it's too much. I feel like they are playing inside me". Then the light show started and ME about lost her mind. The main act, Si Se, came on a short time later and put on a great show. However, the combination of a violin and an overzealous percussion guy proved to be too much for ME and she asked if we could go back to my house. I said sure and we cabbed back to my place.

When we got to my house we went right to the bedroom. ME had on stretch pants, a tight shirt, and this furry belt around her waist. I took off her shirt and pants, but couldn't figure out the belt, so we just left it on. ME is a handful in bed to begin with, but in her heightened state of euphoria she was almost out of control.

Fifteen minutes into round one ME was on top of me grinding away. Instead of grabbing her hips I looped my hands through the belt, gave each side a half-twist, and used it like a handle to manipulate her body. Maybe it was the drugs, but having that handle was like finding another gear, she went even crazier. The noises she made were disturbing. They were a cross between grunts and guttural groans, like GRRRRRR's and UGGGGHHHHHH's combined in short and long bursts. They were sounds I've never heard come out of a human before. I imagine it's the sound a woman would make if you stabbed her in the belly, very hard, with a large knife. I liked the groans and found that if I hit certain spots inside her the groans would get louder or softer, depending on the spot. The downside was that I was terrified my tenant was going to call the police. Being somewhat paranoid I kept one eye on my window and expected to see flashing lights at any moment.

At 3am ME woke me up and said she had to go home. I hate the fact that she can't spend the night because each trip to her house takes an hour round trip. I had sobered up but still wasn't happy about the drive. She said I could drop her off at Union Station to catch a cab, but the last time I did that she laced into me about how she almost froze to death, so that lesson was learned and I just drove her home then turned around and came right back to my place.

Changing subjects, I got a call from DGII, the chick who I left the note on her car. We have plans to get drinks this week. Apparently she didn't think the note was creepy.

Can't Win Them All

I met a girl in my neighborhood just before the holidays. She was walking her dog by my house and we stopped and talked for a few minutes. Then, during the last snow storm I saw her in a car stuck in the snow on the side of the road. I pushed her out and we exchanged names, and I thought I picked up on a connection, but I haven't seen her since.

Last Thursday night I was walking the dog and saw her car parked in the same area she had gotten stuck. Snow was in the forecast that night so I went home and wrote the following note (paraphrased):

"Dear [Dog Girl 2],

I saw your car and remembered the forecast is calling for snow tonight. My number is below, give me a call if you get stuck again and need another push...or would like to get a drink together sometime.

-[signed with full name]
[my phone number]"

I put the note in an envelope with her name on the front, placed it in a plastic bag, and put it under her windshield wiper.

I talked to some friends and they said there are four possible reactions she could have. The first is, "Holy shit this is creepy, the dude is a stalker". The second is "It's kind of sweet but I have a boyfriend". The third is she's single but didn't find me attractive and the fourth is she's flattered and calls me.

She hasn't contacted me. Aside from feeling rejected, I'm pissed because she lives on my favorite dog walking route, which I now have to abandon because I don't want to bump into her again.

Tiny Balls

I've begun phasing Bartender out of the picture because I've noticed some disturbing personal hygiene habits. On the ME front, things are going relatively well, except for the fact that she can't stay out and we keep having sex on her neighbor's couch and floor.

Two weeks ago I stayed over Bartender's house after a night of bar hopping. We had sex several times and when I was about to finish she said "cum on my face" which of course I obliged. I also came on her chest once later that night, then we passed out.

Fast forward to me getting jolted out of bed by a terrible buzzing noise at 9:30am. It was an alarm, which was something I've never heard at Bartender's house before. I nudged her and said "what's up with that?", and without moving she said "I'm working brunch today". I got up, put on my pants, then went to the bathroom to take a leak. When I came out Bartender had her pants on and was buttoning up her black dress shirt for work. I sat on her bed and started pulling on my boots, and she went into the bathroom. Three minutes later she came out and said "Do you want to walk together". It's at this point that I realized she wasn't going to take a shower before going to work.

Call me obsessive compulsive but I was grossed out that she would go to work, where she serves food and drinks, funked up from sex and with my cum all over her. Think about that next time you see something in your waitresses hair at a restaurant. I'm sure worse atrocities take place in kitchens all over the city, I just don't want to know about them, much less sleep with them.

It gets worse, for me at least.

Last Thursday I had bartender over for dinner and to watch a movie. After the movie we went to bed and I went down on her. While I was down there I noticed a tiny little ball of something on my tongue and pulled it off with my fingers and went back to work. A minute later I noticed another little ball on my tongue, but this time I investigated further and realized what it was. The tiny little ball was toilet paper that had rolled itself into a nub. I felt around and there were more. I stopped, I couldn't continue with the combined knowledge that she doesn't seem to shower often enough and that I was now encountering tiny wads of toilet paper on her vagina.

Let's just move on.

Things with ME are going well except for the minor inconvenience that her mother lives with her and she can't sleep out. It has its pros and cons, the cons being that we are reduced to quickies at my house followed by an hour in the car driving her home. The alternative is having sex at her neighbor's house, which needless to say is odd. I was hoping those days were behind me after I graduated high school.

Logistics aside, I like ME. I think she's a fantastic person. She's very smart (a doctor), compassionate, well traveled, well read, knows a lot about art, is opinionated but open to new ideas, etc. However, she lacks some things that I always thought would be important to me. For instance, I love the ocean and sailing, and as I've said before she is afraid of the water and can't swim. Actually, she doesn't like the outdoors in general. Camping, hiking, white water rafting, these things don't interest her. Lastly, and probably most importantly, ME is pretty high maintenance. She likes and is used to the finer things in life. As an example, on Sunday she told me that she would only drive German cars, and I don't think she was referring to Volkswagen's. She cited safety as the reason, but I bet she wouldn't drive a Volvo, one of the safest cars on the road.

What is interesting to me is that these things don't seem to be deal breakers.

Meep Meep

Last night I grabbed a bite to eat with ME at Zaytinya, then we had a cocktail at Proof after. While we were having a drink I witnessed one of the most bizarre date exit strategies ever employed by a man.

ME and I were sitting on the couch, which is fairly large and can seat about six, when another couple came in and sat on the far end. The guy was a little older than I and wearing a suit. The woman was a bit younger, blond, cute, wearing a short dress and heels. The guy looked familiar to me and after a few minutes I placed the face and realized he works for one of my vendors. We met once or twice before in person two years ago and have spoken on the phone several times. However, I don't think he recognized me and I wasn't anxious to strike up a conversation with him, so I basically ignored him while he and the woman shared a drink.

An hour later ME and I were getting ready to leave. Me excused herself to go to the restroom, so I sat there and finished my wine. While I was sitting there I heard the other couple have the following conversation:

Guy: Well, I am going to head back to my office.
Girl: Now? It's 10:15.
Guy: Yeah, I have to go back for a while.
Girl: To your office!
Guy: Yeah. You can get home, right? Take a cab or something? You can get back?
Girl: Yes, great. I'll just take a cab home while you go to your office.

They were speaking in hushed voices, but the girl was getting pretty angry at the guy. As she spoke her volume would spike on certain words to stress her point. The guy, on the other hand, kept completely calm and monotone, which only seemed to make her angrier.

She continued:

Girl: I can take care of myself. I can cab home, or Metro. And you're going back to your office!

After this the guy said something I couldn't understand. At first I wasn't eaves dropping, but they hooked me in and now I wanted to hear what the debate was about. I was trying to piece together the conversation and construct the background story to this meeting.

I sensed history between the two, so that ruled out a first date. The guy seemed aloof and even distant, so maybe they were former flings having a reconciliatory get together. It could have been a break up, but everything up until the "I'm going to the office" comment was so civilized that this was unlikely. My money was on the story that they were former flings and the girl requested a meeting to try and patch things up, and the guy wasn't interested.

The girl was still muttering something to the dude while he signed his credit card receipt, then ME came back from the restroom. We were ready to leave, so I was momentarily distracted from the scene next to me as I stood up and reached for our coats. Then I saw a flash of grey go through my left peripheral vision and a blast of cold air rush at me from the front doors. When I looked up I saw the front doors slowly swinging shut and the dude was already thirty feet down the sidewalk and moving fast.

The girl yelled "Tom!" and scurried to get her coat and purse together. ME turned and asked what was going on but all I said was "Come on, grab your coat, we have to go outside". She was confused but did as I said.

We left a little after the girl, who was doing her best to chase after "Tom" in her high heels. When we got outside she was only about twenty feet from the front door and just standing there on the sidewalk looking left and right. Tom was gone. I mean out of sight like he vanished or dove under a car. That block in front of Proof is long, so he had to have been running to get out of sight so fast, it was amazing. He looked like an average guy but he ran like the Road Runner. All that was missing was the "Meep Meep".

As ME and I waited for cabs the girl stood on the corner, crying, and furiously dialing her cell phone. It was a sad scene. I almost asked her if she needed cash to get home, but I opted against it because I didn't want to make her situation worse by embarrassing her further.

I fished through the stack of business cards on my desk and found "Tom's" card. I would love to call him and ask him what happaned last night.