I was in a bar down in Venice Beach, having a beer and this girl starts talking to me. She seems OK, but the bar is dark. Band on stage is loud. Hard to tell.
She asks me if I want to go out to her truck and smoke a joint.
“Yes, please.”
When we wander out of the bar, the bright lights outside illuminate her face in a disturbing way. I ignore what I am seeing. Not that hot.
“So where is your car?”
“I thought we were going to your truck.”
“No, we are going to your car.”
OK. I can deal with this.
We get to my VW minibus, and she says “Where is the joint?”
“I thought you had a joint.”
“No. Take me home.”
OK. I can deal with this.
So, I start driving her home. As I am driving, she starts rambling.
“You can fuck me. You can screw me. You can do anything you want to me.”
OK. Maybe I can deal with this.
As we approach her apartment she says: “I sure hope my boyfriend isn’t home.”
Oh, fuck. Can I deal with this?
She points to a convenience store and says “Pull in there, and go buy me a 12 pack of beer.”
“I’m not buying you a 12 pack.”
So she gets out of the car to buy beer. I definitely cannot deal with this. I shift my van into reverse, and race off into the night.
I didn’t go back to that bar for a year.
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