April 13, 2015

I was sweating on a non-air-conditioned bus to a village when I drove past a store that specialized in pig food. The store was nestled in a crumbling concrete building with a giant poster of a pig tapped to the front door. The door, pig-like in nature, was wide open and I failed to successfully peek inside.

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The sweat had made its way down my leg and with luggage back on my lap, I rubbed my leg anxiously against the seat, hoping it clung onto the sweat. Among the throbbing ass,  sweaty thighs and pig stores, I thought about the recent encounters with the male species.

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I went for coffee with a friend of mine. We drank the coffee. We sat. We talked. The traditional coffee date, from start to finish. So, we’re getting to the point of departing the busy coffee shop and  I alert him of my need to flush the urinal canal. He looks at me and continues sitting in his seat, which I can only assume means, “ok”.

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I come back from my quick squat-n-pee, and he is gone.

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Gone. Vanished. No longer sitting in his seat.

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A group of girls swoosh their heads in my direction and place an awkward, yet pitiful look on their faces. I stood there for a moment, took a breath, and acted like this was all intentional. Aka. I went, sat down and stared at my phone.

I waited a couple of minutes to assure myself and the fellow coffee drinkers that, “don’t worry, you were not ditched, he’s coming back.. I don’t have the whole my-daddy-left-me issue, but he will come back.. right… I’ll just.. wait.. here.. for a… minute.. he’s not coming back..is he..”

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So as I’m sitting there, completely flabbergasted, when the light from the sky hits the glass cup he was drinking out of. And behold, I see the shimmer of 30 cents tucked under a cup. No..  no he did not.. aha, but, he did.

I took the money in both hands and held it to the sky in disbelief. He really did leave me 30 cents to over his side of the bill.  Which, may I add, was not 30 cents. I tucked the thirty cents back under the cup and paid the bill.  I then went into my own mental hole, where I spent the walk home in a half-laugh, half-conversation with myself.

“I can’t believe this. Did he really do that?”

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“Yes, yes he did. We’re never going to coffee with him again, right?”

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“Right, you’re so right. This can’t be happening or tolerated.”

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Upon my own internal (and external) self conversation, he texts me, saying “Told ya. I need to go”.

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Well, you sure showed me! Oh boy, oh boy!  

Thank you for this valuable life lesson, without this I would have spent a minute more peeing in coffee shop bathrooms. From now on, I will hold my urine inside until the pain of it pushes me to the edge of aggressively attacking you and squatting on your face.