So, this guy I had been emailing with for a while finally called me last night. The call lasted about 45 minutes, but I hesitate to call it a conversation. A sales pitch?
Well, I now know all about his parents, his parents divorce, his dad’s new wife, his thoughts on arranged marriages, his own divorce, his trip to Paris, his apartment, the apartment he was looking at moving to, the books he most wants to buy, his drunken grandmothers tendency to hit him with kitchen utensils…his thoughts on zoos and his penchant to quote late 90s romantic comedies…. All he knows about me is that I have a dog and I’m in graduate school. That’s it.
Wow.
He also has a vague Canadian accent. My favorite lines was …“Crème brulee is like jello for adults.”
I’ll accept that. But, don’t like rag on me if I eat it because you think of it as “adult jello.”
Eh, it’s fun to crack, but it doesn’t wiggle! Well, he was mostly insinuating that he likes to do dirty, adult (ahem) things with his crème brulee. Which, really? Crème brulee seems like an ill fit for anything not involving a meal and appropriate linens.
If you want to get freaky with dessert, there are other options…MANY superior options.
So, after rambling on about masturbating koalas and the joy of suveed duck, not the same conversation luckily, he asked if he could call me again.
And you said…?
“Sure?” I mean…I had no idea what to say.
I can picture it…A total “Sure?” (LOLSOB) moment.
Yep. (Pause.) I'm at work...Otherwise, I'd totally google "adult jello." (Pause.) There was a jello penis on the first page of results just for "jello," so I'm pretty sure there would be some awesomely bizarre things. Yet, fittingly, no creme brulee...
- The Queen
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