Occasionally I have moments where it appears I have suddenly turned into a gorgeous femme fatale and men appear to fall at my feet in wonder at my charm and glorious beauty. One such example is this post that I did last year in June, a little over a year ago. It is called “Just call me Mata Hari.”

Oh, you figured that out from the title of this post? Aren’t you clever. Now shut up and read the post (by the way, does anyone know how to set up blogger so that all of your links automatically open into a new page? Because I’ve done that stupid target=blank and it gets old doing that every single time. Yes. I am lazy).

Okay. Are you back? Did you just marvel over my power over men? Yes, I am laughing over that sentence as well. Anyway, this happened quite some time ago, July 13th to be exact, and I’ve been meaning to write it but we’ve been so busy and then I’ve been trying to catch up on every one else’s blog and I want my computer to start working now but it hates me so what are you going to do, right?

On Thursdays, as you know, I go to karaoke. That requires taking a cab (or it did. Cabs are not in the budget this pay period. Beth, who is wonderful (but you all know that) has been picking me up). So. I call the cab company. I wait for a cab. A few minutes go by. A cab pulls up. I get into the cab.

The cab driver looks somewhat familiar but I do not quite recognize him.

CD (that would be cab driver): Where are you going?
DM: The Chalet on Rice Street.

CD looks at me in the rear view mirror.

CD: The Chalet? I have a club that meets there occasionally.
DM: Oh. You’re Bad Brad.

I have posted about Bad Brad before. Here is the first encounter with him. Here is the 2nd (although it is not as detailed as the first encounter, mainly just a paragraph in the middle of a whole lot of “I like James. La la la”) encounter.

BB (see, it has changed to BB to stand for Bad Brad. In case you couldn’t figure out my tricky acronyms): Yeah. Good to see you again.

He turns around to look me up in down.

BB: You’re looking real good.

Oh, dear God in Heaven. No. This is not funny. He used that tone. You know, the one that draws out real good until it sounds like “reeeeeaaal goooooood.” Kind of how Joey on friends would say “How you doin’?”

DM: Thanks.
BB: I should give you my card and we could get together some time.
DM: Oh, I think you gave it to me before.

We ride in silence for a few moments.

BB: Are you a member of my yahoo club?
DM: I don’t think so. I’m not a member of any clubs that I know of. What is your club?

Now, remember, every time I’ve asked about this club (when HE brings it up), I’ve been told that it is secret and shocking and that he can’t tell me about it.

BB: It’s bad.
DM: Okay (dismissive, I don’t care if you tell me).

He glances in the mirror. Somehow, something makes him change his mind. Perhaps it is my glorious beauty and charm.

BB: It’s Minnesota Swingers.
DM: Oh! Then no. No, I am not.
BB: Sorry.
DM: Uh-huh.

We finally pull up to the Chalet (yay! Safety!) and I start to rush for the sanctuary of my home away from home. But I have to pause to pay him. I will normally pay $15 for the cab ride. Usually it is about $10-12 from my apartment to the Chalet and I’ll just ask for a $5 back. The cab driver’s tip is based on whatever the meter is when they drop me off. If it costs $12 to get there, they are only going to get $3. Bad Brad told me to just pay him $10 because he had made a mistake and turned the wrong way. I had him the $20 and ask for the $5 back.

BB: Thank YOU!

Damn. I should ask for $8 back. He thinks that I’m appreciative of his (cough) charms.

BB: Give me a call tonight and I’ll take you home for $10.
DM: Yeah. Thanks.

I walk inside. I see Beth and wave as I walk to the bar to get my water. I see Mike Tice. He asks me how I am. I tell him about Bad Brad and how I was mistaken for a swinger.

DM: Do I look like a swinger to you? Do I?

Mike laughs appreciatively and says no.

As I am waiting at the bar for Annie to finish up with another customer, I feel someone’s hand move across my back. Oh, dear. Is it Bad Brad? Did he come to find me?

No. It is Stoobs. A guy who has been up there a few times and has expressed some interest in me. He is very nice but, with my life as screwed up as it is, I have no plans on dating for a very long time. Plus, my heart belongs to James, even if he has no clue (although I must say, with my stepping back and concentrating merely on the friendship aspect, I have found that I am able to talk to him without sounding like a complete idiot) that he holds it in his manly Batman like hands.

I find my way to the table. I look at Beth. She, using the telepathy that we seem to have honed to an art form, knows that something has happened.

B: I saw what happened at the bar.
DM: Yeah, that’s nothing compared to my cab ride.

I tell her what happened. Being a supportive friend, she immediately bursts into laughter. I join her. Because, yeah, it is funny. And, considering that it seems to be our mission in life to meet as many freaks as possible, is almost normal compared to some of the people (Shrunken Head Man comes to mind) we’ve run across.

Later, on my way to the bathroom, I see Ki. I tell him about what happened.

DM: Do I look like a swinger? Honestly.
Ki (laughing): Well, maybe he was up here the night you were drinking.
DM: Oh. Yeah, that could be.

Was that night all that bad? I mean, really, did I do anything that I should regret or would make someone think I might be a swinger?

As I am headed back to my table, I see that the large group of people that are standing in the aisle are still clustered there and seem to have grown in size. I must find an alternative route. I see an open spot by Stoobs and walk by him.

DM: Excuse me.
S: I thought you were going to sit on my lap. G-d dammit.

Um, no. I don’t know you well enough to sit on your lap. Besides, haven’t we established that I am not a swinger?

Anyway, that is encounter #3 with Bad Brad. I’m sure you can all understand why I am never calling yellow cab again. Or, if I do, I will specifically request not to get him. The man is very odd. Although we’ve been having fun trying to figure out who might be in his club. There’s the guy that kept telling me he loved me. We think he might be a member.

So, at karaoke last night, I mention to Beth that I’m working on the swinger post. Beth, of course, knows that I’m referring to Bad Brad. Katie, however, does not.

K: What? You must explain.
DM: Oh, yeah. That probably makes no sense to you.
K: I am assuming that you are referring to swinging on a swing.
DM: Yes, of course. Exactly.
K: That’s what I thought.

I explained it to her, she had the correct response of “Ew.” All is good.

I have not run into Bad Brad recently but that is because Beth, who is wonderful in many, many ways, has been picking me up on Thursdays now when she is done with work because I am very broke. She does not want me to have to give up karaoke since it is a relatively inexpensive form of entertainment (well, not when you figure out that gas prices have risen to $3.19 which is just wrong) and I appreciate that.

I am sorry it took me so long to post this, it has been busy again and finally slowed down enough to let me finish. Plus, I had to search through all of my archives until I could find the first post about Bad Brad. My archives are not very well organized and I’m going to have to fix that. Calls permitting, of course.

Have a great weekend!

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