At least I'm not too arrogant to admit it when...

I "had" a date tonight that never called. Translation: I was blatantly blown off. "What an idiot...," she exclaimed, breathlessly, and quite, jovially, while shaking her tired head, shrugging her shoulders and not really caring, but obviously a little burned by the anti-climatic events which preceded. I'm not too arrogant to admit that, surprise, surprise, this is not the first time a Wanton Hussy, such as myself, has been previously approved of, to only be later rejected of. Enter gasping breath here. Let me recap.

Exhibit A: Reason behind a one "Sucker for Tattoos" blog is lucky enough to have me enter his establishment, during my successful stint at outside sales. Tattooitis gives a Miss Wanton Hussy a cellular phone number, in case a Miss Wanton Hussy is "in need of his glass-glazing services." No seriously, that's not a innuendo. Too tired to enter innuendo here. On Tuesday, August 23, at approximately O' Eleven Hundred Hours, a Miss Wanton Hussy phones Tattooitis "regarding work related information" and is consequently and explicitly asked to a meal to proceed on the night of Friday, August 25. This meal was to be preceded by a phone call on the afternoon of Thursday, August 24 or morning of Friday, August 25. This phone call, to a Miss Wanton Hussy, never took place, as supported by the overwhelming evidence as I, Miss Wanton Hussy, am sitting comfortably braless, in the clothes I wore to work today, post nap, in glasses, with a Large mug of Gun Powder Green Tea, from a Tea Ball, or in my opinion, the "right" way to drink Green Tea. Thereby, consequently, not devouring delicious, authentic Italian food, as I had erroneously predicted to be taking place now, 21 Hundred hours, Friday August 25.

Can't say I'm not surprised. Tragic, really, that nothing in this narrow-minded, upside down, bonkers of a world, really surprises me anymore. I am perfectly okay with the outcome of the evening. I am glad that "Mr. I have a lot of Tattoos and provide the perfect blend of compliments and inquisition to keep you intrigued," at least did me the favor of, selectively and personally, excusing himself from my short, finite life, rather then the inevitable and awkward ending provided by either party. The only thing I am missing tonight is awkward silences, humiliating "Ass-Out hugs," round-about, yet vaguely egotistical, vapid conversation, complete with nauseating thoughts laden with insecurity. Essentially ending in a memorable, but, regrettable first kiss, probably beginning with teeth clicking, mouth missing or an equally embarrassing first kiss quality.

So, thank you. Thank you for caring. Thank you for not calling. Thank you for sparing me the forever lost cell phone minutes and never gained sense of dignity. Us Wanton Hussies may be a dime a dozen, but by-gone-it, at least we have our low standards to keep us together.