Sunday, April 02, 2006
Gullibility and obliviousness at its finest
Unlike all of you guys (who can sniff BS a mile away), I’m usually the gullible fool. I’ll believe anything you say because I usually have no reason to doubt you (unless you are a salesperson or a fanatic of some kind). The great thing about being gullible is it’s easy for people to spring surprises on you. Lucky for me I love surprises. (The good kind, not the kind the IRS sends you.)
My sweetheart has been cooking up something all week long, right under my nose, and I never suspected a damn thing. It started earlier in the week when she asked me for the email addresses of some of my coworkers. I was curious, but I already learned my lesson that the fastest way to irritate her is to ask too many questions. So I didn’t ask. I shrugged and figured she was planning another bar get-together like the one I mentioned in an earlier post.
Later in the week she tells me that she wants to take me out for a birthday dinner, just the two of us. That we were going to get all dressed up and go to this romantic little restaurant we recently discovered. Of course I said, “Sure!” I never refuse a hot date with my hot woman. Even if I do have to get all dressed up.
So Saturday comes and we have an uneventful morning. Uneventful except for the fact that her cell phone is ringing every half an hour. “You sure are popular today,” I remarked, but thought nothing of it. Her family is huge. I mean, huge. So I figured they all decided to call today. Stranger things have happened.
When it’s about time to leave she helps me pick out an outfit. Hey I’m fashion-impaired, I need the help. She tells me to do something with my hair. Apparently wash-n-go isn’t going to cut it tonight. So I run a handful of gel into my hair and mess it all up like they say to do on TV. It looks great, I think. For all of five minutes. Then it decides to settle back into its usual wash-n-go look. Hmm. I have really thick hair that is apparently as stubborn as I am. My honey, of course, will have none of it. “You have to look hot tonight!” she tells me. I rarely dress up or look anything remotely resembling “hot”, so I figured once in a while is fine. She deserves to get what she likes (and more). I didn’t think anything more of it. She loves me as I am, but we all need to indulge once in a while.
She proceeds to work some kind of voodoo magic on my hair using 3 different kinds of product in it. I end up looking like a supermodel. That’s not a pat on my back, that was her magic. I have no skillz in that department.
When we’re all ready to leave we pack ourselves into the car. I notice she put this big Macy’s bag into the back seat. I thought to myself, “Huh, I guess we’re going to return something to Macy’s after dinner?” I thought it was odd, but again, thought nothing more of it. Once we’re in the car and on our way, she tells me to stop by the supermarket. Okay, now that’s just blatantly odd. What could we possibly need from the store on our way to dinner? She tells me to stay in the car, so I stay. While I’m waiting I ponder a few things. Maybe she’s getting a birthday thing for me? Flowers? A stuffed animal? I’m baffled. I know it has to be something for me, but two and two are still on opposite sides of my brain. Yes, I’m clueless and oblivious like that.
When she gets back from the store, whatever she bought goes directly into the back seat so I can’t see. I know better than to ask. So I pull back out into the street and head towards the freeway. She says, “You can drive faster you know.” Irritated, I reply, “What, are we in some kind of a hurry? It’s just dinner!” This comes on the heels of having had a relaxing birthday breakfast during which we remarked how nice it was to not have to hurry anywhere.
Then, out of nowhere, she remarks, “Oh I forgot the camera! Darnit!” I find this odd. We never take pictures of ourselves at dinner. She recovers from her little slip by saying, “Well you just look so nice tonight, I wanted to take pictures.” Stroking my ego is the fastest, easiest way for me to forget my suspicions. So I tell her, “It’s okay, we’ll take photos when we get home.”
Driving, for me, is a lot of thinking time. I get into auto-pilot, which frees my brain to process things. Things start clicking into place, one by one. She wants me to hurry because we’re late for a reservation that she never told me about. I step on the gas a little. She wanted the camera because something unusual is about to happen. As we get onto the freeway she’s getting text messages like crazy. Every couple minutes her phone is bleeping its new message notification. Hmm. She wanted those email addresses to invite them to something… The high volume of phone calls today… I wonder… is she planning a surprise party? She’s done it once before and I totally fell for it then as well (I’ll have to tell you about it later). No wonder she’s all stressed out about how late we are. Poor baby. That’s when I start my Indy-500 lane-changing car-passing thing.
So we finally get to the restaurant and I see my friends and coworkers there. They start laughing at the funny “what are you guys doing here?” look on my face. I was right? It’s an odd feeling. I love being right, but it just doesn’t happen all that often. It was a great night, all thanks to my clever, conniving and ever-loving girlfriend.
Speaking of which, poor baby, she has a hangover this morning. Time for me to fetch some more cold towels…
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Categories: • Lesbian Love
