I’m going to do a “Quentin Tarantino” on this one and start at the middle-end and then go back to the beginning.
“Velvet” and I had just got done having sex, when she looked up at me and said, “Do you remember when you told me that you were ‘Legion?‘”
“I understand what it is that you do now.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“You ruin women.”
I arched an eyebrow in mock surprise and said, “Ruin women? Whatever do you mean?” Of course I knew what she meant. The only real shock that I felt is that she was using a line from the Gay Monastery as if she was an actual member and was holding her card for inspection. Did she know what I do for shits and giggles? Did she know that this was something that I have dealt with on a regular basis when I hear guys whine that those “evil PUA’s are rooning the whamen!”
“You fuck so good that you’ll be remembered for a long time to come. I’m pretty sure that there are women from your past that to this day may be with another man, but they are thinking and fantasizing about you.”
Part of me was a little flattered, I’m not going to lie. Part of me was like, “Yeah, look at you stroking my ego. I’m memorable. For now. But then down the road you’ll most likely be with another dude, and I’ll be with another woman.” It was fascinating to me that she was describing things that I’m all-too familiar with because of the space that I occupy on the internet. The only difference was that she was describing things as normal people would without all the jargon and none of the sperg. That’s how I know she’s not running around, snooping on what I’m doing on the internet. Otherwise she would be throwing jargon around or asking me something like, “What’s ‘Redpilled?'”
Yep, I “ruin” women. LOL. I “Alfa Widow” them. Guilty as charged. Ya got me.
Will I be memorable to some women as time goes on and we have gone our separate ways? Probably. There’s a handful of women that “left a mark on me,” as the saying goes. I remember them. They show up in my vision from time to time. Maybe it was their laugh. Maybe it was the way they would toss their hair and play with it. Maybe they had strong head game. There’s a billion things that could make me think about a particular woman for no particular reason at all. Sometimes it’s a song that I hear. Sometimes it’s a certain smell.
But “I’m ruining women.” Hell of a flex. I’m not nearly so egotistical to think that I leave that much of an impact on any one particular woman, or a guy for that matter. I do my thing, you listen, watch, engage, or you don’t. I move on. I figure that you do too. I’m just a man, nothing more. While entertaining a woman with a story of “I am Legion, I am Many,” is dramatic and fun, it’s a story and nothing more. Do I buy my own bullshit on it? No, it’s just something melodramatic and fun and women like melodramatic and fun.
At the end of the day, she said it, it was nice, and I’m sure at that moment that she said it, she meant it. She’ll be saying it to another man down the road and she has probably said something similar to guys that were before me. So I noted it, took the ego boost for the moment, but then took it with a grain of salt.
So there’s the middle to the end of the story. Let’s go back to the beginning now….
“Velvet” and I were sitting on the balcony drinking a couple of beers and I was smoking a cigar. There’s a guy walking his little poodle down on the street below. He’s a “bikerish” looking dude. I’ve seen him around over the last few years, but I’m somewhat of a curmudgeon and I like to keep to myself and so the only thing I have done when he and I have crossed paths is either nod to him or wave at him. I didn’t even know his name. Until this night.
“Hey! Come on over here and have a beer with me!” He slurred/yelled at us.
I looked at “Velvet.” “Well? Want to?”
And so we did. We got our asses off the bench on my balcony and went down and met “Mike” and Woody.
“Mike” is a character. I’m not sure how old he is. I’ve never been a great guesser when it comes to age, and I know that living certain lifestyles can either make you look younger or older. If I had to guess I would say that “Mike” is pushing 60. Thinning hair, lots of lines and wrinkles, but he’s also lived a hard life and he’s made a lot of bad choices throughout it. He’s definitely an alcoholic. I wouldn’t doubt that he’s addicted to other substances as well.
“I was born into the Hell’s Angels. My name is ‘Mike.'” That was how he introduced himself to Velvet and me when we walked across the street and shook his hand.
From there I got to see his tattoos because he took off his shirt and showed them to me. He mentioned that he had done time in prison when he was younger. Some of his tats were of the jailhouse variety and so at least that part of his story was true. I have seen enough jailhouse tats to know the difference.
He told us about Woody, the little Poodle That Could. Woody is 15. He’s an old man and if “Mike” wasn’t bullshitting me, Woody has seen some shit over the years.
“Mike” regaled us with tales about the time he was a bull rider in the rodeo and how he broke almost every bone in his body when he was 40. He talked about the times he got arrested for doing over 120 miles per hour on his Harley. He told us about the death of his mother. And Woody had seen all of this. And this was on a first meeting over a can of Budweiser. Wives and fiancée’s who overdosed. Fights he had been in at bars when he was white-knighting for the wahmen and he got his ass kicked or he ended up in jail for his troubles, or both, I heard it all in the course of about an hour or so.
“Mike” had diarrhea of the mouth and didn’t know when to shut up. It was sweet, it was sad, it was interesting.
Almost the entire time he was looking at “Velvet.” He was entertaining her. I was irrelevant. I just smirked the whole time and nodded and “mmmhmmmed” where it was appropriate. He was definitely attracted to her, and why not? She’s a good looking woman. It was also a little transparent and a little sad. Ultimately I had to tell “Mike” goodnight. It was getting late and I had to get up and go to work in the morning. That’s when “Velvet” and I said our goodbyes to him.
As we were walking back to my place, I said to her: “That’s the first time in all the years he and I have lived across the street from each other that he’s asked me to come over and have a beer with him. He did it because he saw you and he likes you. Tonight was the first night in all of that time that I learned his name and the name of his little dog. He wanted to meet you.”
What’s the point of that dialogue? Nothing really. Just what I observed.
The funny thing is, “Mike” saw me with my belly dancer get into my car the very next day as we were getting ready to go to dinner. The look on his face, the confusion, was priceless. I waved and pointed a finger at him as we drove by. I wonder if he saw my wink or not.