Now, said guy above who made a drinking comment about yours truly who wanted to go to the beach may have had a point about my vodka habit. However, this pathetic male existence of a specimen I will refer to as The Gemini Psycho. Understand, I am a Gemini as well, so I can say this. Since it had rained in the evening, which would have made the sand wet, The Gemini Psycho and I decided he could come to my place to hang out. I’ve only lived in this place for like a month and I have been just dying to show off my Martha Stewart skills.
The journey to get The Gemini Psycho the… 0.6 miles from his apartment complex to mine couldn’t have been more complicated. I gave him my exact address, sandwiched with landmarks, and he called to yell at me because I didn’t know where some Hot Dog place was that was on the complete other side of where I live, about 0.5 mile away. Keep in mind, my apartment complex is LITTERED with all sorts of businesses. If you know anything about my eating habits, I can’t tell you where the closest McDonald’s or Burger King is, nevermind a hot dog establishment. I texted my best friend saying, “This guy can’t find my place and he lives like around the corner.”
Her response: Ew, what an idiot. Ditch him.
You should always listen to your best friend. Finally, I wave down The Gemini Psycho outside of my building and even go with him to park the car. As we walk back to my apartment gate, I notice his outfit. I thought I was transported to 1998 and thrown into an episode of Hey Arnold! Because his get up was straight out of the show about fourth graders. On his tall, lanky frame, which he claimed was “jacked”’ during his collegiate career about 800 years earlier, I I noticed…lots of things. Starting from the top, he wore a backwards baseball hat. I understand we were just hanging out and smoking pot, but we’ve only met one other time. Is a backwards baseball hat necessary? As we head South, the baggy orange t-shirt covered with a gray zip-up hoodie was an absolute blinding color clash that disturbed me all evening. Now, you would think the worst part would be the baggy gym shorts, right? Like, god forbid you put on jeans to see someone whose vagina you may want to gain access to?
Here it is: He was wearing man sandals with high socks. Go back to the beginning of the sentence and re-read. When my 65 year old father wears sandals with socks, I think to myself, “What a confused middle-aged man who has earned the right to wear whatever the fuck he wants because he’s a boss.” However, when a single, 39 year old male who is currently unemployed may I add, is wearing sandals with socks, I had to swallow my vomit.
Now, for the rest of the evening I put on my rose-framed glasses or whatever they’re called and somehow saw a kind, interesting side to this creature.
Fast forward to 72 hours later when we were going to hang out again. The kind, friendly, attentive, poorly dressed guy I started to have a soft spot for turned into Hannibal Lector. Like, total gemini 180. Way worse than me.
There was such a slew of immature, backhanded, and preposterous comments he made throughout the day, I literally thought someone had stolen his phone. In an attempt to take the high road, I ignored them. However, I had reached my breaking point with the following:
The Gemini Psycho: "You need hobbies."
Please see this post regarding my opinion on hobbies. Not to mention... YOU DON’T HAVE A JOB. OF COURSE YOU HAVE HOBBIES. Back to me. I am a self-employed individual who also spends her free time WRITING because that’s what she wants TO DO WHEN SHE GROWS UP. Other than that, I eat, exercise, sleep, and engage in that stupid cultural ritual known as dating. When do you see time for crocheting? Or pickleball? If you see a time slot, please, be my guest and enlighten me.
Plus, I’ve explained more than once I am Martha Stewart. The time I spend creating color schemes with complementary textures and fabrics is not something you do in 30 seconds.
Where my blood really boils comes down to Friday evening, where he completely blew off concrete plans we had to go for happy hour and dinner at some bar he wanted to check out. Of course I spent like three days mentally creating an outfit so that I looked like an ~effortless~ babe. After a day of excuses, being highly manipulative, and down right pathetic, this is what my 10:30pm looked like, and breaking point number 2:
I know what you’re thinking. I should’ve walked away as soon as I saw the socks and sandals.