In an attempt to salvage something out of the time and energy I’d invested in him, I invited N.E. over for dinner and sex. Technically, the invitation was for dinner, but sex was strongly implied. He arrived and, within fifteen minutes, asked what time the express train stopped running. So I had to make a yummy dinner and sit through it with an unfunny dinner companion, all the while knowing I wasn’t going to get any. And to top it all off, I looked over at the clock at 9:12 and realized I’d forgotten to set the VCR to tape Angel. When dinner was over, N.E. offered to help with the dishes, but I refused. What I said: “No, you’re my guest, you’re not allowed to touch the dishes.” What I thought: “I want you out of my apartment right now.”
At least he was annoying enough that I no longer think he’s hot.
And if anybody has Monday’s Angel on tape, please let me know.
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