The Girls That End in E


Posted by Austin W. Dallas | 0 Comments

I finish up work early today and decide to meet up with a couple friends for a few happy hour beers. We talked a lot about digital marketing and I got called out a few times by Jennifer(Brad’s wife) for checking out the waitress. I could not help myself. I love women and I have such a thing for nose rings. Obviously not the bull hook through the middle, but a diamond stud in the side gets me every single time.

We polished off about a six pack each before Brad and Jennifer decided to call it a night. Bill and I decided to stay a little longer because it was Karaoke night and things could get interesting if we stayed around and pounded a few more.

We ordered some fried chicken sliders, which by the way are absolutely delicious.  Mowed them down and had a couple more beers. Bill was having some kind of drama with his pseudo girlfriend and he had to call it a night and go deal with that nonsense.

It was only like 9:30 so I figured I would stop by the bar down the street where my buddy John is a bartender. The commercial real estate market during the ‘07-‘09 recession did a number on his business deals and he was forced to pick up some shifts at a couple local bars.

I rolled up there and was going to have a beer and head home.  John and I talked it up like we normally do. I noticed a cute blonde girl with a pretty good rack was sitting a couple bar stools down from me. At first I thought she was there with the guy standing next to her. It turns out; he was just standing there ordering a drink for himself. She was alone, drinking draft beers and working on a Jagermeister shot. This is a reasonable sign that she may be willing to have a one night stand, so I decide to stick around for a little longer. I honestly do not remember what I first started talking to her about, so there is no great pick up line or tactic in this story.

We shared small talk, and I mentioned something about the wedding video floating around the internet that was reinvigorating Chris Brown’s career. She had not seen the video clip so I pulled out my iPhone and looked for it. I was half ass listening at this point and was focusing on scrolling through countless Facebook status updates to find the correct post with the link.

Even when I am not consciously listening I can usually follow the gist of what someone is saying and passively participate in the conversation with staple comments like “sure”, “really”,  “that’s interesting” and “I did not know that”. I finally gave up on Facebook and just did a Youtube search. I gave her my phone and let her watch. She then started talking about her wedding. Dammit. And she mentioned her five your old son. Double Dammit. Oh well, at least the kid was a sign that at least she likes to F&^%. She got real detailed in the description of the timeline of when she got married and how old the kid was, but not in a way like. Oh he’s five and lives with his dad. She describes it in such a drawn out way, that I do not think I can give it justice by trying to explain.

“Seven years ago I got married and two years after that I had a son.”

"Do you know how old he is now?”

“I am no mathematician, but seems like that would make him five.”

“He is five. How did you guess?”

I hope this girl is joking and besides that, why the f*&% do I need a math test at the bar on a mother f*&^ing Wednesday. I am older than your five your old, basic math really is not a challenge for me.

We continued to converse. I asked her what she did for a living and she told me it was a long story. Long story to me usually triggers thoughts that she is a stripper or she is a hooker. Apparently neither, long story this time is that she works with blind kids. That’s awesome news, she has a good heart, but why was that a long story.

Is your 7 minus 2 year old blind? Or, is it because when your kid was one, you figured out that four years later he would have another birthday on the same day? Well professor, you are correct, that kid is going to be five. I also got another math description when she described about three years ago when she got divorced when her son was two. At this point, I was almost wishing she was one of those women that refer to their kids in the number of months they are. That way, at least I would have some math to do in my head when we are pounding bodies later. It’s a little trick to do in your head when you do not want to release too early. What is six hundred and seventy-six times four hundred and thirty-two? What is two hundred and ninety-eight divided by forty-nine?

My office is right by a blind school in Dallas, and I know the name of it already, I vaguely mention that there is a blind school by my office. She knew the name of it, so her story is coming together as truthful. It was just a weird feeling I got because I still did not understand why she figured the story about her current career was such a long one.

At this point, she still seems pretty normal.  It’s around 11 at this point and I am getting to the point where I want to either go home, pass the F out, or we can get out of here so I can feel what this chic’s guts are like.

It’s time to make a move. I look at her and I am about to suggest we go somewhere else. She beats me to the punch and poses the question to me about the man in the moon. What? I thought she was about to ask me if I wanted to go outside and check out the moon with her. Nope, she wants me to go outside, look at the moon and tell me if I can see the man up there. And she wants to know if I can find out his name.

“What? Seriously? I know what the moon looks like, besides what time of the month is it? Can you even see the moon? Is it a full moon right now? Is it a half moon? What are we really talking about here?”

“Go see if you can see him, he’s up there.”

“I am sure he is.”

“Just go look”

“I have seen the moon, I know what it looks like”

“Who is it you turn to when you are alone at night? Who is always there for you when you need someone? Where can you find comfort? He is there. Look to him. He will guide you.”

Ah, she is trying to be metaphorical and is actually referring to my penis. She starts scribbling on a piece of paper, wraps it up in a napkin and hands it to me.

“Do not open it right now. Save it for later, it has his name on it.


“Go see if you can see his name up in the sky.”

I am pretty annoyed with this game and starting to think she may be a little off her rocker, but I have convinced myself that the piece of paper has some sort of directions to her vagina on it. So, I play along a little longer with the whole man in the moon theorizing. She goes on some more about how I need to go look for myself and see him.

“You really need to see him. You need to see his name up there. You need to feel him and see how he can guide you.”

F#%k it. I pull the piece of paper out of my pocket and open it up. If I had any remembrance of what a normal girl was, the word written on the piece of paper may have surprised me. I have had my share of crazies throughout my escapades, so nothing really comes as a shock to me. I would have more enjoyed it if was something like “I want you under the moon tonight”, “Your package is the man in the moon, and the address is my vagina”, “her address”. I would have been content with her number and we’ll hook up another time when we are drunk again. Maybe I’ll take you for a pitcher of beer and a tray of wings at Hooters. NOPE. “Gary” The fucking piece of paper said “Gary” on it.

What the fuck!!! Am I on TV? Is this some sort of joke television show I was not prepared to be on. Did I suddenly become famous and just got Punk’d? Where is Ashton?

“Gary, huh?”

“That’s his name. You really should go outside and see him. He is out there and he wants to speak to you.”

Unbelievable, I have somehow found another crazy chic. How do I find them? Some days my choices in women are terrible, but certifiably crazy is not my bag. This is a new one.  John, who has been in and out of our conversations for a while now looks at me. I look back at him and my eyes are so wide open. This bitch is fucking chock full of nutz.

She had ordered a last beer and closed her tab. I had decided to do the same, since this is pretty much the end of this evening. I am not hooking up with crazy pants over there. I am going to go home and jack off. I order another beer and close my tab.

Cuckoo Butterworth next to me ends up leaving at the same time as I am. I imagine she was waiting, because she wanted me to walk her outside so I can check out her moon cult up in the sky. We walk by her car and she insists on walking with me to mine. We awkwardly exchange pleasantries and she starts to caress me a little.

What am I doing here? Get in the car and leave. She is crazy and you do not need this kind of drama in your life again. The beer, bad judgment and my own personal man in the moon, my penis, aka Tony Danza, is the boss of me once again. I move in for the kiss. I get denied. W.T.F.

“You need to find the moon first.”

“You’re serious?.?.?… You are crazy.”

She sports a pissy face at the crazy comment but continues kissing on my neck, so I humor her.

“Oh look, the building is blocking the moon, so I guess we cannot play this game anymore.”

“Are you going to call me and take me on a date?”

Kissing on the neck

Lying: “Sure, I’ll call you.”

I had already given her my business card earlier in the evening. She had a half decent idea for some online business she wanted advice about. Whoops. Oh well, she probably will not call, I did just call her crazy to her face when she would not kiss me. She walks away over to her expensive Lexus. Helps blind kids? I am pretty sure helping blind kids does not pay quite that well.

“Are you going to call me and take me out?”

“Sure, I’ll get your number from Gary.”

Smiles like I made her night, gets in the car and drives away.

The Girls That End in "E"

  • Courtney if you want to read about a girl who might be from another planet.
  • Sandy if you want to read about a girl who Facebook stalks and might time travel.
  • Robbie if you want to read about a girl who gave me a red rocket.
  • Allie if you want to read about a girl who likes to play dress up.

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