Last night I met up with a friend of a friend of mine who I had never met. The situation arose from an email our mutual friend had sent to us saying, “NP this is my friend, S. S, this is NP. You guys live in the same city; you should meet!” I ignored the email since: a) I am moving out of Chitown soon anyway; and b) I am lazy and have my clique of friends here already. Anyway, S actually emailed me and wanted to meet! I was impressed that he took the initiative and intrigued. The problem is he is as busy as I am, and more of a social butterfly, so we could never coordinate schedules. Finally we did meet up briefly and it was quite nice.
Actually, it almost felt like a date. We had hot chocolate, we talked and laughed easily until the chocolate shop kicked us out at closing, and later he dropped me off on his motorcycle (all I can say is woah). And he kept giving me the “look,” i.e. giving me a sly look at me when I wasn’t looking. Girls, you know what I’m talking about. So of course I had to slip in Bwoy into the conversation and his face changed slightly but he recovered. It’s always awkward to bring up Bwoy, but it’s fair—I guess I’ve had so many instances where guys automatically lose interest once I mention Bwoy, it kinda makes me feel like, doesn’t anyone want to be my friend? But overall, S was really cool, and riding on his motorcycle on the highway was both terrifying and exhilarating. He kept assuring me he was going slower than usual (which meant he was doing 70-80 mph), and I had to close my eyes and hold on to him very tight to the point where I was probably cutting off his windpipe.
I must admit, it’s very very hot to see a guy riding a motorcycle and even hotter when the girl gets to ride on it with them. What’s even hotter though is seeing a girl riding a motorcycle herself. So now I want to get a motorcycle. Even though Bwoy assures me they are more like “death” cycles. But it’s sooo hot. There are lots of things I want to do- get a motorcycle, get a tattoo (I already have a couple of piercings), and some other things I won’t mention on this blog. Bwoy claims tattoos are unattractive but I disagree; I think they’re an expression of yourself—just like me liking clothes. Of course, he could care two hoots about what he throws on himself, so it makes sense he think that. Still, I think I might get a very small tattoo of something meaningful to me…
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