Last Day

I’ve got to give Dorian credit. He talked the guy out of going to a big theme park while Mary was in the bathroom. She didn’t want to go but couldn’t really talk him out of it. 

He then backed out once Mary returned by saying that metal gets hot in the sun.

… are… are you… seriously? 

Today I’m tired but we went to a lakefront park and walked the whole length. I played on the rocks and in the sand and fell in the water. 

Dorian had my phone thankfully.

The guy laughed at me falling off the rocks, Mary screamed and I distinctly heard Dorian say, “she’s fine,” as I came back up. I’m a pretty strong swimmer and have hopped in before. Thing is,  I’m not so graceful as I hop in so more than once Dorian or Beth has thought I fell in. 

We avoided all the attractions and basically just walked. Mary was a lot more calm today, basically treating the guy like a child. Like an exasperated parent might treat a child. She kept having to remind him to get out of the way and to pay attention to where he was walking.

Blessed Mary has been sober this whole time. So has he, probably by proxy. The one time they tried a wine, he gulped it and she decided to not drink in his presence again.

Who the hell gulps wine? 

The first beach we went onto, there was a complaint about sand in his shoes. So we waited fifteen minutes while he untied each shoe and meticulously beat the sand out. None of us joined him.

Dorian then had them walk in front of us and every few paths down to the beach, he’d put on his Dom face and motion. Off I’d go, saying something about exploring.

He didn’t empty his shoes again, but he acted like we asked him to wade through pig shit. Mary on the other hand was more at peace when she was facing the turmoil that was the lake. Her irritability would fade away and she’d almost seem to smile.

We stopped for ice cream about three quarters of the way down the beach, Dorian’s treat. As soon as we left, the guy wanted to sit on a bench and eat.

Mary immediately and loudly said no.

Here’s the thing with Mary. She won’t eat if people are watching her. Hell,  if you talk to her as she’s eating, or you’re eating, she gets this look like she’s going to skin you alive. 

So no, she definitely did not want to eat a quickly melting ice cream as people passed by her. I found a beach I knew was usually empty and we popped in there to eat.

And then he glared at her when she put her wrapper under her foot as she ate her cone. Even though I swear he had been  about to throw his onto the beach when Dorian made comment on bad people littering. 

Of course, he didn’t say bad people, he said something else.

I’ve known Mary just a few days, and even I know that she would never litter. She’s a nature lover at heart and actually gets annoyed at people really easily. I think she’s er… what’s the word? A misanthrope? 

I wasn’t surprised in the least when she pulled out an empty plastic bag and jabbed it towards the guy, who took it upon himself to try to clean up her wrapper. She almost hit him with it, she was that irritated because it had still been under her foot.

He then cleaned his hands with antibacterial soap.

She pulled out her water bottle, wetted a piece of paper towel and washed the sticky off her hands. 

Mary has used the soap before, but she had used it because there were only Porta potties available which had no soap. So she used that and immediately washed her hands properly when we found bathrooms.

He washes his hands anytime we get off the bus, but not after blowing his nose or using the bathroom. Which we know because some men do go to the bathroom together. Yet ice cream requires disinfecting your hands? If you think it’s that germs,  you shouldn’t be putting it into your mouth.

I think he’s gotten the message finally. Because I was ‘allowed’ to sit with Mary while he sat with Dorian and they talked about weather and where we were headed.

After being at the beach, we headed for the bay itself. He played his game at my favourite spot. I wanted to tip him into the fucking bay. The only thing that stopped me from suggesting he take a leap was watching everyone else interact over the game while he ignored them.

Like he believes he is the only person in the world. Fuck you, buddy. Everyone else is interacting with real people thanks to the popular game you’re playing and there you are, giving all players a bad name. 

Mary tried several times to get his attention while Dorian was off making a phone call. I guess I was just a lump on the bench for him.

Dorian had to kick him in the leg to get his full attention. Not hard, but still. Out in public, you shouldn’t be so engrossed in something that you miss five questions with your name in the sentence. 

As we were looking for someplace to eat, my stomach did something funny. All day we had little treats. Ice cream, a milk shake, chicken nuggets. I’m not used to such food and all I wanted was a good salad. I told Dorian as much and he suggested we go to the grocery store I like and get dinner.

Cue the guy, in a whiney voice, “it’s just not the same.” 

Of course it’s not the same shit we’ve been eating all week. That’s the point.

Okay, we’ve eaten at some great places. But when you want a salad with fresh ingredients and the dressing you know you like, all other places will not do. So I had to make do, because the guest gets to choose. 

Fuck social rules. If I want a goddam salad, I should be able to get what I want. I shouldn’t have to make do with wilted vegetables that tasted like water to begin with and suffer through smart assed comments from the guest. 

I hope he gets selected by the TSA when he flies out tomorrow and they make him uncomfortable. Or the airline loses his baggage. 

I suppose I should be honest and say I do have an eating problem. The problem being that when you make fun of me for my selection, I get upset. If you make me eat something I didn’t want to eat in the first place, I have been known to puke it back up. Feed me what I request and I’ll eat a healthy portion. Throw slop at me and I look like I just don’t eat in general.

To say that I was crabby by the time I got home would be putting it mildly. As soon as we walked in, Dorian went to the fridge and pulled out a cucumber.

In his defence, he’s seen me eat a cucumber whole on more than one occasion.

“Why is it, everytime we come to my apartment, the first thing you try to do is put a dick in my mouth?”

I was in that kind of mood. Snark and a little turned on. Every bad move the guy made just reminded me of the good in Dorian. It made me want to express my gratitude for every bit of attention he shows me, even though I was spitting mad.

Dorian looked at the cucumber, looked back up at me and turned back to the fridge. 

He produced… a carrot.

“First off, when was the last time you saw me eat a carrot?”

“Good point, why is it in your fridge then?” 

“Stock, soups, chickens. Beth is teaching me how to cook.”

“Oh.”

“That is also shaped like a penis.”

“I think you’re seeing penis where normal people would only see fresh vegetables.” 

“It’s a penis!”

“It’s a carrot. If you want a penis so badly, I’ve got one I could let you use for an hour or two.”

I’m definitely not ashamed to say that I took advantage of his offer.

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