Okay, mister, you got me out of my comfy, warm apartment on a Saturday night, where I was planning on enjoying the Season 2 box set of "Arrested Development", but no, you wanted to meet tonight after pursuing me on Connexion.org. So I got my ass in the shower, sat on the 101 for 45 fucking extra minutes, parked four blocks away from the bar I would never normally go to anyway because it's L.A. and nearby parking is a myth, ran in the sudden torrential downpour that began the minute I stepped out of my car, all just to meet you.
And after 15 minutes of pleasant conversation and letting you cop a feel on my boobs, you told me you were "going to the bathroom" and never returned.
"Going to the bathroom" and ditching? "GOING TO THE BATHROOM" AND DITCHING?
Missy, I invented "going to the bathroom" and ditching!
Oh yeah, thanks for the drink. Oh wait - I bought yours.