So after like 8months of working on myself, dropping my bad dating habits and building my self esteem I decided to finally get back to the dating market and found this girl on a social media platform we chatted for like 3 weeks then I asked her out on a date. I made sure to give it my best bought a nice suit, book a place at a fancy restaurant and was basically a gentleman, opened all her doors pulled out her seat cause this is the person I now want to be an I felt she deserved it. After that drove her back home and said bye to her. A few hours later my friend who happens to be her cousin calls and says she just couldn't stop laughing at the fact that I drive an old run down car. Of which yes I don't drive the best car but it ain't old and run down......that actually brought back my childhood insecurities of poor and always being looked down up on.
I think I'm done dating, lifes too short to do this thing were I forever have to fight for someones approval or in the name of having a relationship. My single stint was so fulfilling and peaceful. I think that's gonna be life for me

Bassinet, car seats, everything cleaned/sterilized (like bottles and pacifiers) ??
STM but I honestly can’t remember. And this one may be coming a tad earlier

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Dear Owners, getting my Buzz in a few days. Its a Showcar from my local dealer, so i had to buy it as it is. (price was okish here in Austria).
It wont have the Multiflexboard in the booth, dealer thought it will be in the garage all the time as he was ordering the car last year.
do you guys use it in your buzz, or you go for the better booth size without it?
im thinking of buying one in aftermarket couse of the flat floor with the folded seats.
(sry my bad english tho)

Back in Grade 3 I found this book in my school library and picked it up to read, now unfortunately the school year ended before I could finish the book and I never found it again.
But when I found it online again I just had to pick it up and I don’t regret it.
Taking place in the near future hover cars have taken over the world utilising magnetic technology to sit roughly a foot of the ground. Now hover car racing is the premier sport of the world and that’s when our protagonist, 14 year old Jason Chaser enters the fray with his 12 year old borderline autistic Brother, The Bug (his actual name and he is described as borderline autistic).
The two are a power duo with Jason being the daredevil who can expertly fly the car and the Bug being a mathematical whizz making him perfect as the navigator.
As a racing nerd I was able to give it some leeway but also some criticisms.
For one, all safety regulations are thrown out the window with the only safety coming from the racing circuits end being ‘dead zones’ which catch the cars if they go too far of track. But aren’t present everywhere. The hover cars are fitted with reinforced cockpits and assumably a roll cage with an ejection seat on the side. However the tracks seems to make the sport more dangerous by adding things like ‘demag strips’ which remove power from the mag drives (the things that make the cars float and move, essentially the tyres of the new era) which make the cars crash out most of the time past the speed of sound. Then there are occasionally extra hazards such as a ‘meat grinder’ which is a tunnel that closes in on the driver until only the cockpit can fit. Now as a racing nerd, the governing body of most Motorsports, the FIA would NEVER allow this at 300 KM/H, let alone 800!
What I did love about the book was the use of racing terms, being Motorsport is underrepresented in fictional media I loved seeing terms like hairpin and apex being thrown into the fray and it was great! Another thing I loved was the characters, the good guys were well thought out and had some great character development. Now the bad guys are comically evil, and this isn’t a bad thing given the demographic, spoiler >!i.e a race fixing bookkeeper or a Frenchman named Fabian who uses dirty tactics Now being the book was made for younger kids it was way below my reading level and I saw all the twists coming, this isn’t a complaint per-se because I was reading the book to tie up a loose end more than anything but it was still an enjoyable read and I do recommend it to you if you want to turn off most of your brain and enjoy the vroom vroom of hover cars! It’s also a great book for younger kids if you ignore the swearing (shit being the worst word) as it gives some good life lessons!

I Roxie dog here again. Yesserday is wors day. Mama say let's go get in jeeep. I no this mean we going for ride! I get so excited frens!! Mama hook me in my car seat & off we go to bes place, PET STORE!! They has toyz n treats! I sniffssniffssniffs everything. BUT THEN Mama take me to back & I gets a PAWDICURE! I make LOUD sad sounds. It no hurt, I just practicin my theatrics! Mama say I drama queen! I is Queen for sure. I get new toy & treat, but I still BIG MAD at Mama for PAWDICURE. AITC for no want nails cut?

I found a used car for which the seller claims a mileage of 77k km. But I found the sagging and surface creasing of the side wall of the driver's seat. Does anyone of you think this wear is normal for a car of such a mileage? FYI, this is 2017 Mazda cx-3.
https://d2s8i866417m9.cloudfront.net/photo/12419183/photo/medium-2d9f1fad88da4966d0b57c6e5c16ec78.jpg

I found a used car for which the seller claims a mileage of 77k km. But I found the sagging and surface creasing of the side wall of the driver's seat. Does anyone of you think this wear is normal for a car of such a mileage? FYI, this is 2017 Mazda cx-3.
https://preview.redd.it/y2izzbslcr1d1.jpg?width=1200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e62aa60903c54eb0f75e3459b8417d33a210baf8

*Chrome text editor plugin or whatever thinks reclinable is not a word :) *
Hi Everyone!
A few years back I've rented a Mazda5. It was the only car I ever drove where second row seats could be reclined. And quite a lot. And I generally liked the car. It was fairly agile and could be parked easily. Boot space wasn't huge but it was decent.
Due to a change in family circumstances I'd love to find a similar car.
Mazda5 sales have stopped 8 years ago and not too many good examples are offered at the used car market.
Which other car might either have this feature or at least have a very comfortable rear bench?
It doesn't actually need to be a 7-seater, or an MPV or an SUV. Though in reality it most probably will be.
TIA

I feel like I am in a coma. I’m gonna start from the beginning. Back in February 2023 my mom started dating a guy we will call John. John didn’t look like any other guy she’s dated. She usually dated taller white guys with more mature personalities. But this guy was short and black and acted like he was 16. I’m 13 and at this time I was 12 and live with my mom, (31f) my sister, (10f) my grandma, (60f), and John 36m. We lived in New Jersey btw. Wedidn’t have a car but John did and he moved in a few days after my mom and him started dating. He worked at a mall in king of pressia which is around a 40 minute drive. My mom would drop him off at work at around 7am and pick him up at around 8pm. Me and my sister would go with her to pick him up but we got really bad motion sick so we took this over the counter medication that helped but made us really drowsy so we would usually fall asleep on the way home. (On the way to pick him up I would sit in the front seat and after we got him I would go in the back). My sister eventually stopped going but I didn’t. The first time I felt weird was one day we were driving to pick John up from work and I thought about needing batteries for my Xbox controller and after a few seconds she asked me if I was out of battery’s yet I said yea but didn’t mention anything about it. This happened at least 4 more times. Sorry but this part needs more background first. My mom grew up living in a trailer park which can give you a good idea how much money we had. Then one day my grandma was driving home from work and got hit buy a drunk driver. Her car was destroyed and she sued him. His defense was he was trying to eat a sandwich but that was complete bs. She was awarded 100k and she bought a house in a good part of nj. She wanted to pay a years worth of taxes in advance but my grandfather convinced her not too. After a while that money was gone and my grandfather left my grandmother for a girl my moms age and my grandmother couldn’t work and my mom moved out after she got addicted to h. After he left my mom came back and we started having random people come to our house trying to sell it because of how behind we where on taxes. But it never actually got sold. Until last year. March of last year we were told we had to leave and we had 2 months. I had lived in this house for 8 years and It was hard. We moved to Philly in a row home and my parents are scared I’ll get hit with cross fire if I got outside cause the area we live in so I can’t go past my porch. It just doesn’t feel real and I’ve felt really drowsy this whole time. It feels like a dream and I’ve always had and still have really vivid dreams. Sorry for the long post but thanks for reading.

Hello everyone, I just bought a 2024 CTW a few weeks ago. For reference I am a big guy at 6-5 and 260. I was initially surprised at how well I fit in my car. I have a decent amount of leg room, head room, and shoulder room. Obviously it is not the most spacious vehicle in the world for me, but it's not terrible.
Well, a few days ago I took a 400 mile road trip and noticed that the seat pan may be a bit too narrow for me. The sides of the seat (where they twist upward) kind of dig into my glutes a bit and gets a bit uncomfortable.
Have any other big people noticed this? Will the seats eventually break in and "flatten out" so those side panels aren't so aggressive?
Would the seat pans in the OBW be wider than the CTW?
Thanks all !!!

Hello everyone, I just bought a 2024 CTW a few weeks ago. For reference I am a big guy at 6-5 and 260. I was initially surprised at how well I fit in my car. I have a decent amount of leg room, head room, and shoulder room. Obviously it is not the most spacious vehicle in the world for me, but it's not terrible.
Well, a few days ago I took a 400 mile road trip and noticed that the seat pan may be a bit too narrow for me. The sides of the seat (where they twist upward) kind of dig into my glutes a bit and gets a bit uncomfortable.
Have any other big people noticed this? Will the seats eventually break in and "flatten out" so those side panels aren't so aggressive?
Would the seat pans in the OBW be wider than the CTW?
Thanks all !!!

We are heading off to Rome from Australia next week. It will be a long, long flight. More so because we’ll have our 2 year old with us.
One issue we have to plan for is arrival. We land at 6am and our check-in isn’t until 2pm. While we can drop our bags, they don’t have capacity for us until then, so we need something to do to fill the time. We will be very tired, our son will have to crash/nap somewhere. We are staying in Monti - would love any ideas of what we can do to fill the time.
Also, on transportation. What is the best way to get a few suitcases, an adult and a toddler to Monti from FCO? I’d rather a cab than a train. Are they easy to come by? Do they allow/have car seats for toddlers?
Thanks!

Kadillac Kirk had been a good friend of mine for several years. I had met him through friends from The Spring Stage; and he never had anything to do with The Imp, which is why he didn’t appear in the Married Mary saga. Mary would have totally thrown herself at him, and Kirk would have definitely “thrown it in her.” He loved the ladies and often remarked that there was no such thing as an unappealing woman, nor was there anything sweeter than finding the pearl of passion in an outwardly plain dame. Fortunately for Kirk, he never met Mary. This was probably fortunate for Mary as well, seeing as Kirk was a confirmed bachelor and his rakish nature might have broken her fat heart.
Kirk was an older guy. Not MOE old, though. He was in his early forties, but he easily passed for a carefree dude in his 30s... not that he lied about his age. I only mention this trait to juxtapose Kirk’s genuine youthful air with Moe’s unconvincing youthful farce. Kirk dressed normally, avoided stupid jargon, and never busted out gimmicks like tarot cards or spells. He just existed, behaved affably, and people liked him for it.
He drove a classic 1962 Cadillac El Dorado convertible with red leather interior, and he lived in a charmingly quaint (and ridiculously expensive) neighborhood. How he made his fortune remained a mystery, but he never bloviated about his wealth. He just threw spectacular parties and people showed up. And, to my knowledge, he never tried to lure women into bed with his money (although I’m sure he got his fair share of boom-boom thanks to his digs and his wheels, even if the gold-diggers denied their monetary agendas).
Kirk was legitimately handsome. He was a drummer, he had a full head of black hair, he was clean-shaven, he worked out, and he knew all the hidden gems in Wellsprings. So why hadn’t I tried... or even desired to date him? I don’t know. I just didn’t feel drawn to him like that. He felt like a cool uncle and he had, thus far, never done anything to change my perception. Plus, the age difference weirded me out a little. Kirk didn’t look forty; but knowing that he had so much more life experience than I did created a power imbalance that would have creeped me out if we’d been dating. As buddies, I just felt supremely cool riding in his Cadillac, smoking Fantasia cigarettes, and hitting the speakeasies and jazz clubs I would have never known about if it weren’t for Kirk’s connections.
And he had been a good person to talk to about my romantic woes. He never lecherously suggested that I should date him, and he gave the type of tempered advice that only comes with lived experience. But he often lightly mocked me for my crush on Dennis and he did a hilarious impression of Smegal popping too soon over his “precious.” So when Mary “got me back” by doing whatever she did with to Dennis, I called Kadillac Kirk and told him the drinks were on me if he’d be my designated driver for the night.
Why hadn’t I called Whisky??? Well, A) Kirk was way more fun to hang out with, at least from my past experiences up to that point. And B) I needed to bitch about a boy, something I couldn’t do in good conscience in front of a guy I was dating. So I put on the sexiest plunging halter dress I owned, applied heavy eye makeup and spikey accessories, braved a pair of stilettos, and sashayed out to Kirk’s convertible. I felt like a badass rock star. I probably looked like a try-hard hooker.
Kirk: Daaaaay-um! Somebody really did do a number on you, huh? I know you said you were upset, but the gents are gonna be writing thank you notes to that fat girl and that butt-fucking hobbit.
Me: I just need to feel pretty and numb. And I trust you to keep me from making a fool of myself.
Kirk squeezed my shoulder. “I’ve got you. You do whatever you need to do to get rid of these demons.”
He sparked up a J and offered me the first puff. I gladly accepted. He took one puff of his own, but said that the rest was mine since he didn’t want to drive stoned. See? He was responsible! Weed wasn’t legal in California yet, so I got a little bit baked before I stashed the sativa in the glove box and wrapped a scarf around my hair like a starlet from the Golden Age of Hollywood. Kirk sped out of the parking lot and said he was taking me to a downtown hotel that was hosting a party that night in their lush lobby.
Kadillac Kirk pulled up to the main entrance, paid the valet, and then opened my door. I was wobbly from the weed. And I had stupidly decided to wear heels. You can get high or you can wear high (heels). You can’t have both. Not if you’ve repeatedly injured both ankles (as I have). I had to take Kirk’s arm to keep from keeling over. “Can people tell I’m stoned?” I whispered. Kirk replied, “Nobody’s paying any attention to anyone else’s intoxication. I promise you that much.” I nodded, steadied myself, and strutted alongside my very cool friend, feeling a little more confident.
A live jazz orchestra was playing Cole Porter as we entered the lobby. Everything sparkled. The music was even more intoxicating than the spliff had been. “Just One of Those Things” brought tears to my eyes since the lyrics hit every raw nerve regarding the Dennis debacle. But I smiled. It might sound mental, but being distraught over a trash fire of a one-sided romance was exhilarating. Immature, for sure. But also exhilarating. You see, that kind of sadness doesn’t hurt. Not really. It stings. It leaves little bruises, but it’s very safe to wallow in because you haven’t actually lost anything. Melancholia over that which you never had is as sweet as it is bitter; and that type of twisted splendor is rivaled only by Stendhal.
“Here's hoping we meet now and then. It was great fun, but it was just one of those things.” I sang along with the band, and a fat tear rolled down past my melancholic smile and onto my chin. Kirk brushed it aside. “Too close to home?” I wiped away the remnants of the tear’s journey from eye to chin and smiled a more genuine smile. “The perfect distance from home. Shall we get drinks? Remember, I’m buying.”
Kirk: No, no. This is your time to heal. And I’m here as your pal, not your chauffeur. What would the lady like?”
I pretended to barf. Kirk knew I hated it when he got overly formal and overly attentive. So he did it just to mess with me. “Shot of vodka,” I replied.
Kirk: How many?
I thought briefly. “FIVE.”
Kirk: Five to one, baby. One in five...
Me: No one here gets out alive.
Kirk: Are you able to hold yourself upright, or should you come with?
I took a seat on an ornate, damask-upholstered chaise lounge. “I’ll be okay. And I was kidding about the five shots.”
I sat there lost in the music for a while. I thought very little about Dennis. Even less about Mary. And not at all about Whisky (whom I had shagged less than a week ago). My mind danced through the ornate lighting in the hotel lobby, and I suddenly felt the need to join the hoity-toity guests on the dancefloor!
Kirk returned with four shots of vodka. Two for him, two for me. That was quite reasonable of him. He knew damn well that I couldn’t handle five shots, but he also knew that I was in a... state. One that called for more than a single shot. I raised a both miniature glasses to “No more ninnyhammers or hairy-footed lovers.” Kirk did his hilarious Smegal impression, we double-toasted, and downed the shots. The band launched into “Let’s Misbehave,” and I kicked off my stilettos and made a beeline for the dance floor.
“There’s something wild about you child that’s so contagious. Let’s be outrageous! Let’s misbehave.” Kadillac Kirk swept me up, twirled me around, and dipped me as we both sang along with the lyrics. I wasn’t swooning for him, but I was enthralled by the moment. The music, the dancing, the combination of booze and bud... so I kissed him as he pulled me back to my feet. And he kissed back. In a way that Dennis never had. In a way that Whisky’s beard wouldn’t permit. I didn’t feel the visceral sensations that I’d felt when Dennis had kissed me, but it felt nice to feel desired. And then I noticed that other guests were watching us and applauding. Now, that was a dopamine rush if ever there was one!
I gently broke away from the embrace, high-fived Kirk and returned to the chaise lounge to put my stupid shoes back on. He followed me and smashed his face back onto mine. I pulled away and laughed. “It was a moment,” I told him. “I appreciate the dance, and that kiss was the perfect finale. But it’s not happening again.”
Kirk: Not to worry, Valerie. I know you. I knew all along that we were performing, and I was more than happy to be your scene partner.
Me: And dance partner! Those were some excellent moves! I didn’t know you had ballroom training.
Kirk: You name it, I’ve mastered it. Another drink for the lady?
I pretended to barf again. “Not yet. I’m not sad right now. Do you mind if I just sit here and enjoy the music?”
Kirk: Ah. My kisses do have healing properties...
I flipped my hand up at him. “Knock that shit off, bro. I wanted to hang out with you because I trust you not to get weird. Even if I get weird, I know you have the maturity to balance me out.”
Kirk: Are you calling me old???
Me: No. I’m calling you rational, responsible, and respectful.
Kirk: Well, now. If you can articulate an alliterative statement that fluently, then you clearly aren’t drunk enough!
I dismissed this comment as a joke. And he did indeed knock off the flirtation. We had a perfectly pleasant time chatting and dancing (no more kissing, though). And then I noticed a girl I knew from Into the Woods entering the lobby. She’d played Florinda and I’d played Little Red. I called her name and waved enthusiastically. She waved back. And then her date entered. It was D.E.N.N.I.S. I sank into the chaise. Kirk caught on immediately. “The hobbit???” he asked. I nodded silently. “You wanna make out again?” he enthused. I shook my head. I had to go say hello to Flo. And I had an idea...
I crossed the lobby, smiled, squealed, and hugged her.
Florinda: Lil’ Red! It’s been forever! So glad to see you!!! This is my friend, Denny.
From the corner of my eye. I could see Dennis shifting uncomfortably. I refused to look directly at him, neglected to acknowledge Flo's introduction and continued to converse only with her. "So glad to see you, too! What have you been up to since we left the woods?"
Dennis: C’mon, Val...
Florinda (appearing oblivious to the iciness between me and Dennis): Oh, I had some drama after the show closed. I'll have to tell you about it some other time... Have you seen Prince Big Bad (Scumbanger) lately?
I laughed. “Last time I saw him, he was hitting on some nasty fat chick at The Imp.”
Flo and I both scoffed at the pervy pest. Into the Woods was where I’d initially met Scumbanger. He played The Wolf/Cinderella’s Prince. Again... typecasting. There’s a whole essay in my brain about my first encounter with the pest, during which he quoted the song that he sang to me in the show, “Hello, Little Girl.” But it gets into some pretty uncomfortable territory because he made me feel... excited. Well, excited and scared. Nothing of note happened during Into the Woods, but our odd interactions did kind of set the stage for some extremely regrettable events during that Cats cast party.
I excused myself, saying that I needed to get back to my friend. And then I leaned in and said in a hushed voice to Flo, “Watch your ass with that one. If he’s the Denny I’m thinking of...” I gave her a look that only another female would be able to read. Her eyebrows shot up and she nodded. Dennis continued to shift as though he were trying to hold in a massive dump. “BABE! Uh...”
Flo apparently answered to that moniker as well. “What is it, Denny? Don’t worry. That was just telepathic girl talk. You apparently have a reputation...”
Dennis: Different Denny. I assure you I’m a pious gentleman.
Me: Ah. My mistake. Well, then. You guys have a good time! They’re playing Cole Porter, and the band is delovely. Great to see you, Flo!
I hugged Flo again, gave Dennis a curt nod, ignored the scent of mandarins and mountain air, and returned to Kirk.
I collapsed on the chaise lounge, exhausted from holding back the rage. I had no right to be mad at Florinda. I hadn’t seen her in three years, so how was she supposed to know that I’d had a thing with Dennis? Hell, I couldn’t even be mad at Dennis because the last time he and I had spoken in any meaningful way, I’d told him that I was no longer entertaining my crush on him. So why was I surprised to see him dating??? And why had he never taken ME out on a date like this??? And why wasn’t I smitten with Kadillac Kirk who HAD taken me out on a date like this, was an objectively excellent kisser, and a bona fide BALLER? What was wrong with me???
Kirk suggested going down the street to a quaint little bar and then sobering up at a diner closer to my apartment. I numbly nodded and followed him in silence for a few blocks. He assured me that I had “turned several heads” on the way to the new location, but I neither cared nor believed him. This wasn't the type of numbness I'd been aiming for. Now I needed to get schnockered. “Five shots of vodka, please.” Yes, I was serious.
Kadillac Kirk, my reliable designated driver, ordered only a beer and watched in something across between astonishment, concern, and delight as I slammed all five shots in rapid succession. I half expected to immediately retch all over the bar. But I felt fine. I half expected to immediately lose consciousness and wake up in the hospital. But I remained coherent. How I’d managed to take in that much hard liquor and suffer no direct consequences, I’ll never know.
I think I wanted to suffer. I wanted to either feel nothing at all or to feel a sickness bad enough to distract me from the scorching sting that pulsed through my being when I realized that I had lost the abstract notion I’d been addicted to this entire time. Hope. It wasn’t Dennis himself I couldn’t quit. It was that drug called hope. The hope that maybe, just maybe Dennis would give our romance a fair chance. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would make peace with himself, get his mind out of his crotch, and enjoy some agenda-free togetherness. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would stop bloviating about his admittedly impressive accomplishments for five fucking minutes and ask about my life. I had my own reasonably impressive accomplishments, even if they paled in comparison to his. A proper suitor would have enjoyed hearing about them.
But seeing him out with another woman, a woman who had no reason to parade her Dennis escapades before me as some means of revenge, a woman he was clearly courting of his own volition... My hope had died. It died before I’d had time to wean myself off it. Now I had to mourn the loss of hope, which is a very tricky brand of grief to navigate. Vodka wasn’t the answer, but it was what I had to work with. So it would have to do.
After enough time had passed without vomiting or collapsing, I asked Kirk to bring his car around to the bar so that I didn’t have to walk two and a half blocks drunk and in heels. He nodded and dramatically leaned in for a kiss. I recoiled. “DUDE! I told you. The moment has passed.”
Kirk: I beg your pardon. I misread your eyes. Thought I saw a green light...
Me: It’s fine. I just want to go home while I’m still feeling okay.
Kirk: Of course. Your chariot will be here soon.
He skipped off to fetch his Cadillac and I noticed that the lights in the bar were beginning to dance a bit. This should have been concerning. But then I realized that I was giggling. Wait... What? Oh shit. Sure, I was drunk from those shots. But what I was feeling in that moment wasn’t drunkery. It was stonery. Kirk probably misread my face because my pupils were dilated. Not from desire, but from drug use.
Some of you might be thinking that I was a bad friend for not introducing Lucy, an old dude connoisseur, to Kirk. Well... I did. Several years before the events of this story. He adored her. She, on the other hand, thought he was immature. And she wasn’t wrong. Lucy was astute when it came to sussing out a person’s true nature. Far more astute than I. Her initial assessment that Kirk was immature is about to be vindicated. Stretch those cringe muscles! It’s almost time for pie...
I somehow managed to get to his car. I honestly don’t recall how I got there. Did one of the bartenders carry me? Did some kind patron allow me to lean on him? Had Kadillac Kirk carried me out? I’m not sure. But my memory ceases to be fuzzy about halfway to the 24-hour diner. It might have been the very same 24-hour diner where Mary pulled her... shenanigans. I’ll never know.
Kirk: Would you say that you’re more drunk or more stoned?
Me: STONED. Definitely stoned.
Kirk made some sort of grunty noise and reached for my thigh. I slapped his hand.
Kirk: Stoned but not amorous? That’s rare.
I started laughing rather unkindly. “You’re a fucking horndog! I thought you were my safe straight male friend, dammit.”
Kirk: I solemnly swear that your safety is my primary concern, my stoned beauty.
I pretended to throw up.
Kirk: So... You’re not horny. But are you hungry? The diner I’m heading to makes this Maple Walnut Pie with the most sumptuous... sensual cream and exquisite drizzling of...
Me: Ew! Stop trying to bang the pie. Bro. Are YOU stoned? (Then I remembered the question.) Yes, I’m hungry. But I don’t like nuts. I’ll have banana cream.
Kirk made that repulsive grunty noise again. “Uhhhhh... Mmmmmm. Cream. Yessssss. Yes, we’ll be there in just a minute.” He was squirming in the driver's seat.
Me: GROSS, DUDE! If you’re gonna be like that I’ll just order HASH brows. Get it? Hash??? (I giggled.) You can’t make that sound nasty.
Kirk: Forgive my jokes. I think my blood sugar’s a bit low.
As Kirk parked, I began to wonder how I might get away with walking shoeless into the diner. The stilettos had to get off my feet. At least while I was walking. And Kirk was kind enough to give me his socks and wear his loafers “island style” into the establishment. Okay, that was gallant of him. Maybe he was going to behave himself for the rest of the evening.
I wasn’t terribly talkative as we sat down, and he expressed a bit of concern for my emotional well-being. I wasn’t coherent enough to explain what was happening to my emotions and I wasn’t sure I trusted him with my deep, dark secrets at that point. So I shrugged like a sulky teenager, ran my hands over my messy, windblown hair, and mumbled that I was “just hungry.” And right on cue, a very kind, slightly older waitress with a sweet southern accent stopped by to take our order.
Kirk: Ah, yes. We’ll have two cups of black coffee. And we’ll share a slice of that delectable Maple Walnut Pie.
Waitress: Oh, honey. That pie is scrumptious! I take it you’ve been here before?
Kirk: I have. This will be her first time to taste the splendor.
I hated to be a killjoy, but I interrupted and said to the waitress, “Ma’am? I’m sure the Maple Walnut is excellent, but could I please get a slice of Banana Cream? And a big glass of ice water?
Waitress: Sure, hon! Banana Cream’s just as yummy! I’ll be right back with those coffees and that big water.
Kirk was sucking on the tip of his forefinger and shaking his head a bit. “You’re passing up so many sensational... sensual...”
I put my forehead on the table and growled. “You swore you’d stop being nasty!” I held this #headdesk pose for quite some time before I finally lifted my head... only to see that Kirk was still sucking his fingertip and staring at me like a wild animal. “Pleeeeeease be normal,” I whined. “It’s been a really weird night for me.”
Kirk: Indeed. Many surprises. You know... You’re like titanium. Your flame burns so fast and so bright, if a guy doesn’t get in there while the iron is hot, he’ll never get another chance. I was too slow.
What the...? I was pretty sure he was wrong about titanium burning quickly. I’m no chemistry wiz, but my dad and my oldest brother are both big-brains when it comes to physics and chemistry. So I picked up some things just listening to them talk. Accurate or inaccurate, Kirk was being creepy again. He’d never been creepy towards me before, although I’d seen him act like this with other women. Usually with staggering success. Why????? His money. It had to be his money. Kirk was a nice-looking man, but holy shit... No amount of good looks could save this creep show
And then, our sweet waitress sat down our coffees, my water, and the two slices of pie. After I gulped down a whole bunch of water, I grabbed a fork, prepared to quell my munchies... and then I froze. Kirk was quickly flicking his finger back and forth across the top of his pie. And moaning. He noticed my wide-eyed stare, smirked, sucked the tip of his thumb, picked up the plate with both hands, and began flicking his tongue across the tip of the triangular pie slice. And moaning some more. Well, there went my appetite.
Kirk took his middle finger and jabbed it into the crustless vertex of the pie slice, then he began pumping it in and out like a piston, and flicking his thumb across the increasingly demolished top layer of whipped cream. He gasped this time. People were starting to stare. His pointer finger joined his middle finger in the piston action, and he replaced his thumb with his tongue. Between flicks of the tongue, he groaned, “Oh yeah, baby... Let me taste you,” but it was kind of hard to understand him.
And I was either about to run to the back office, tell them that I was in danger and needed a police escort home... OR I was about to burst out laughing at the spectacle. Kirk continued... He removed his fingers and gregariously licked pie filling off of them. "Ohhhhh," he groaned, "I got you soooo sticky. So sweet. So moist." And then he started sucking his fingertips again, switching from middle to pointer, middle to pointer and emitting a delighted little, “Mmmmmm” with every suck.
Finally, he jabbed his fingers back into the utterly destroyed pie, lowered his face into the mess and lapped loudly and passionately, moaning, grunting, and mumbling “Come on, baby. Come on. Mmmmmm. Come on.” I could see the waitress and some dude in a suit heading over to the table, so I sank down in my seat, partially covered my face, but continued to watch the train wreck. At last, Kirk shuddered violently as he splatted his entire hand onto the plate and rubbed furiously. And then he locked eyes with me. He sucked the tip of his thumb one final time and said, “You...” There was a long pause during which Kirk lovingly stroked the mess he’d made. “You... are the pie.”
I don’t hang out with Kadillac Kirk anymore. But he’s still a bachelor, ladies!