censorship and the russian

i typed up this post on saturday, but didn't publish it until now. i decided to cut the bullshit - i should not be censoring myself here because i know i'd have bad motives for it - to make some kind of impression or keep from appearing a certain way. so i just decided to cut the crap and here it is.

i'm not a mean person but the first thing i thought when i met the russian was "i want to torture him."

my first impression was bored euro-trash asshole. he mentioned he was from the North Shore and in law school. oh, and i noticed that he was looking at me. a lot. but just the tone of his voice betrayed his attitude of superiority. and the way he flicked off my friends - with both hands - as he was leaving was the exclamation point at the end of that jarring sentence.

i might also have made out with this guy. but let me explain. i had just had one and a half LARGE drinks - read malibu rum with just a little bit of ice - and was buzzing (yet again. hmm...), and i went downstairs to see what was going on. Mg and K were making out - doesn't surprize me, they did that at the last party too. either that or they were sitting next to each other holding hands and flirting. either way i came and sat down right between them, just to be a pain. they asked me if i wanted to make out with them too. i politely declined, and K took meg to the other side of me. i was egging them on - why don't you guys just go out? why don't you just GO TO THE MAKE-IT ROOM! etc - you can imagine, me drunk and giggling at my two friends who can't keep their hands off each other. so please, keep in mind that ALCOHOL and my own DISDAIN FOR ASSHOLES were involved here. so the russian comes and sits down next to me, he's flirting with me (and doing a pretty good job - he's quite flattering, not to mention acting smooth like an argentine and you KNOW how i react to those guys) so i let him kiss me. for simplicity's sake i'm going to leave out a few parts (and invent some too), like a trip back upstairs to the kitchen with the rest of the party, and just say that Mg and K went to the make-it room and the russian and i were left alone downstairs. now, i am una chica decente so there was nothing beyond PG-rated. however, he earned all his asshole points in like five minutes.

strike one: he was observing my hand with his, and i noticed that he had a little bruise under his thumbnail. i asked him what had happened. he said, "the airbag in my car hit me. i was lucky." yeah you were, i say, thinking he was lucky to have gotten away with only a purple nail. "i could have gotten a DUI but i'm in law school so i'm good at talking my way out of things." drunk driving - just not cool.

strikes two, three, and if it were possible, four: then his phone goes off. he answers (!), and i lean forward and notice that the call has one of those pictures on it - you know, one of those pictures, some very large-busted woman in a bikini. first of all, if you're trying to impress a girl you DO NOT answer your phone. second, the obnoxious picture. need i say more? i laughed and he got up to take the call, so i went upstairs. the rest of the night he tried to give me looks and flirt with me via sight until he passed out on the couch. i didn't speak to him for the rest of the night.

and should i even mention that little conversation we had in the family room about my friends? i will admit, in the past i have been bad about this - i've said or thought not necessarily mean but snotty things about the people i hang out with here (like, oh they're so boring because they don't want to stay out late tonight). i finally saw what that kind of attitude looks like from the outside. we were talking and he was saying how I was the only reason i'm not drunk and complaining that i'm bored right now. i did like how he said that the fact i've only gone out with argentines in the past year showed i had "character" (though i do not condone the use of Sr. Arbusto's catch phrases). basically, in this conversation he was implying that the people there were losers - he was being a super-snob. obviously that is going to hit a sore spot with me because half of those people i've known for a long time and the other half were making me laugh. so while he sat on the couch by himself, i laughed and talked with the people sitting at the kitchen table. and flirted with the metrosexual too, all the while fielding looks from the russian.

needless to say there was no exchange of phone numbers. it's important to think well of yourself (and just wait till the tables are turned on me) but it feels SO GOOD to deny an asshole something he believes he's got in the bag.