Why did I give her my blog address? Was it because of that time, back in the dishwashing room at the college cafeteria, when I’d loudly announced “I’m a writer”, and the only girl on the crew had asked, “Oh, yeah, what have you written?” I hadn’t really written anything yet; I was merely an English major, with a partying minor. I didn’t know how to answer her, but I knew how to shut up.
I DID have the courage to actually say “Hi” to the woman at the bar; she smiled and said “Hi” back to me. We started talking; I could tell she had a brain, though, like me, she worked at a grunt job.
“So what do you do for hobbies?”, I asked (wow, was I on a roll–a complete sentence, inviting her to talk about herself).
“I read a lot, and I’m trying to write a mystery book, about a woman who may or may not be a serial killer, but a good one, you know, who gets rid of creepy people. Not a female Dexter, not that gory. She’s being chased by a detective who isn’t sure if he wants to put her away or start a fan club. But it’s slow going.”
“Wow, that’s crazy; I’ve been sketching out a similar book in my head, with a guy who may be a serial-killer-for-good, but so far it’s a mental outline, is all. But for now, I just write some stories and such on my blog.”
So we talked on, smiled a lot, swapped blog addresses, cell numbers, and a little bit of spit. She was from the next town, her ride was leaving, and I was too drunk to give her a ride, so we agreed on a date.
I received a text the next afternoon. “Had a nice time talking to you, but your early blog stuff, it kinda makes you sound like a misogynistic dinosaur. So maybe another time, okay?”
This is another entry for Trifecta. Their writing prompt of “dinosaur”, as in outdated or outmoded, prompted this story, but I nearly forgot to include the word itself.