The Present

Last night (this morning), a young man by the name of Lawrence was hitting on me. I gave him a ride home as he was the friend of someone I'd been out partying with.

Lawrence was (smashed) slightly intoxicated and couldn't seem to keep him hormones in check. Every word out of his mouth was "baby" or "boo." Luckily, these words don't phase me unless I truly care about you, so all I did was laugh.

Anyway, when I drop people off, I wait until they get to where they need to be. Be it home, their car, someone else's house, wherever, it's just something I do.

So I dropped (a very disappointed and horny) Lawrence off at his car and waited for him to get in. As I was pulling off, he yelled for me to wait and told me he had a present for me. I did a mental eye roll as I noticed something was indeed in Lawrence's hand. Thinking it was a business card I was about to throw away, I held my hand out.

Lawrence handed me a dead butterfly.

I was speechless and did nothing but laugh. I'm sure he thought it was charming and that the dead insect won him a few points toward a coochie coupon (or at least a good make-out session). If I had a heart, it might have melted a little bit. But Lawrence doesn't know me and has no idea that once I finished vomiting in my mouth, his name was taken off the potentials list. Maybe other girls get off on that stuff and I don't doubt a move like that would've worked on his 18-year-old ex-girlfriend, but I'm a woman and things like dead bugs just don't fly (no pun intended, though it fits so well in this case). Endearing actions with false intentions behind them mean nothing to me.

Sometimes guys just don't know when or how to let sleeping dogs lie. I'm sure I'll see Lawrence again and next time I'll be prepared if he tries to give me another "present."

(P.S. (can I do that in a blog? Oh well, I did, so there) Please do not be surprised if I blog in the next few weeks (or months) and admit that I slept with Lawrence, he is fly and the flesh is weak, so don't judge me. When I blog that I'm in love with the kid, then worry, mmkay?)

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