Always Tries To Be Liked, But Now... - JohnD

I was driving over to Bobby's house for the party. His parties have always been a big hit. I did well at his parties.

My cell phone was ringing. It was Marcia. Her name came up on the phone with a 9.5 rating. I label all the ladies I've been with with a number from one to ten. A 9.5 though? Wow! I had forgotten about that.

"Darn it!" I was thinking. "Why didn't I call her after after Bobby's party in June?" That was the last time I'd seen her. Yeah, Bobby's parties had always been good to me.

"Hello," I said once I finally got the earpiece working.

"John?" Marcia asked.

"Yeah, Marcia! So nice to hear from you. I'm heading over to Bobby's party now. I guess you're going, too, huh?"

"Yeah, are you bringing anything?" she asked. Her voice was sounding real sexy. "Goodness, why hadn't I called her since the last party:" that's what I was thinking.

I finally got around to answering her: "Uh, bringing anything? To Bobby's party, why? I mean, Bobby always supplies everything."

"Well, because it's polite, you bozo."

This babe was kinda freaking me out. What was this 'polite' talk. Most people weren't polite to Bobby. Bobby was a successful computer geek. He had millions of dollars, spent it freely, was always trying to have cool friends.

"Marsh, honey," I said. "Don't worry about it. Bobby won't expect anyone to bring anything. He wants to give things to everyone to buy their attention; he doesn't want them giving him things."

"That's terrible! I thought he was your friend," she said.

I didn't like the way the conversation was moving along. I was going to have to downgrade Marcia from 9.5 to 9, maybe an 8 if she kept this downer conversation going.

"Okay, Marcia, bring something if you'd like."

"Not me, YOU!" said Marcia all kinda defiant and such.

"Me? What are you worried about me for?" I asked.

"I'm worried about Bobby, you ding bat. You worry about yourself plenty enough already."

"Listen, Marica, Bobby always tries to be liked. He needs to be liked; he wants so badly to be liked that nobody likes him. Don't blame me for that. He wants to throw parties and invite me. Don't blame me for accepting his invitation, sweetie."

"John, perhaps you don't want to be liked. Perhaps you don't want to be liked so much that nobody likes you."

Uh oh! This girl was getting all philosophical on me. I didn't remember her having a brain or a spine or whatever it was she was demonstrating here, but I didn't like it one bit. I dropped her rating to 7 right then and there.

"Okay, well, I'll see you at the party, Marcia."

"No, I don't think so John. I'm disinviting you."

"What? First of all, I don't think 'disinviting' is a word. I believe it is 'uninviting' and second of all, who the hell are you to uninvite me?"

"Well, John, first of all, the way I'm doing it, it's definitely, 'disinviting' not 'uninviting.' Second of all, Bobby and I eloped last weekend. We're married now. And you're a slimy, selfish, free-loader. Find some other friends to leech off of."

That was it. Marcia was downgraded to 4.

As I turned my car around and headed home, I thought, "Okay, if she calls me in the future and wants to go out, I will refuse. Well, unless she asks real nicely."

I have to say, I have a little more respect for Bobby now. Still, I had Marcia when she was a 9.5; by the time Bobby got her, she was down to a 4. But, all in all, it was better than I thought he could do.