Date with The Status, Rest In Pieces

Subject: Adult male, 195 pounds, white, low BMI, excellent physical condition, meaty extremities, looks like The Situation, stupid sounding laugh.
Calendar Date: July 23, 2011 8:01 PM
Location: New York, NY
Other Notes: If I spot Snooki or Jennifer Farley, Jersey Shore is going to need an entirely new set of cast members

The Status is a take-charge man. Any other woman would have regarded our first encounter as something entirely different from what it was. But I wound up eating a mouthful of raw flesh from his shoulder and disguised it as foreplay. Him? Well I guess he won’t be getting suggestively rough with “any freaky looking Goth nightmare chicks from Hell,” as he put it.

The Status has friends. Friends that laugh at him as he limps away under his own power. Friends that ignore the pain and suffering I inflicted on him. Friends that look like the finest 7-course feast I’ve ever seen in my life. Except for Kathy, the snooty chick with the septum ring. I know it’s discriminatory. It’s completely sexist the way I only target the opposite sex. Some hardcore equalist zombie cannibal out there is raining down mad hate for my killing ways. I know, folks. I know. God, please spare my soul.
    
“I’ll lick the wound,” I told him. “I’m like a dog. It will heal so much faster.”

“Where do you get off taking a bite out of me?” he screamed. “I’m losing blood fast. Starting to feel faint.”

“You mean that’s not a good thing?”

“Stay away! I have a wife. Three kids. Dear Jesus! Dear mother of God! I can’t believe this! What? What are you crazy? You can’t just do things like that!”

“Why not? I mean, I did just do that.”

“You’re an animal! I was just playing around. Being friendly. Like always. Oh, dear God! Please, somebody help me! She’s trying to kill me over here!”

No one was coming to help The Status. Either nobody cared or no one wanted to approach me. I’m not sure which. There were shocked faces to be sure. But then there was the laughter. Loud, unashamed laughter echoing down from the surrounding apartment buildings and at street level. It was like I was starring in my own sitcom – Blood: Urban Romance. Catch it weeknights only on the WB. Now, I’m laughing.

He hit me to keep me away. This was the fourth time he struck me since I chomped on him. I didn’t mind. I couldn’t feel anything. He may as well be clubbing a redwood. But it did seem like he was getting a lot weaker.

I could see him about to give into a state of unconsciousness.

“I’ll do anything," he said.  "I swear. Just don’t kill me. Please. My beautiful wife. My dear sweet children. Please.”
   
Wait a second! Anything? Usually by this time, half my date is sitting solidly inside my stomach. A blank check on romance? Hell, yeah!

“Tell me I’m pretty,” I told him. “And that I mean more to you than your wife and kids. Tell me you’d give up your faith, turn your back on God, and walk with me hand-in-hand straight into the bowels of Hell. Tell me that our love is eternal and unbreakable. Assure me that nothing shall come between us and that our love will span the centuries from this moment on. Tell me you like my dress because it’s new and has a pretty pastel flower pattern that makes me happy when I look at it.”

“Yeah, all that,” he said as he collapsed against the sidewalk.

“And promise me I won’t go hungry tonight. That I have a home, security, and the respect that only marriage can confer on a relationship. Tell me I no longer have to be the other woman.”

And he would have said it too. If he was still alive.

Tears of regret ran down my cheeks. I watched him die. Who could do this? Who could brutally murder this fine human being and just leave him there to die? And the laughter! Who laughs at something as horrible as this? I do. I was probably laughing the hardest at this point.
 
Later that evening:
Dinner for one. Is that a man’s name on my credit card? It is! He’s dead. Does that mean it’s no good? Oh, please! Come on! All right. I’ll pay with cash. I know it’s a little bloody. Well, you should have accepted the card. Stop complaining! I’ve had a horrible day! The man I secretly loved is now dead. No, I didn’t kill him. My love freed him from his abusive marriage. You know what? Come here. Let’s work something out right here, right now…See, that wasn’t so bad.  For me!

The Status ? - 2011

Date with Dave, RIP

Subject: Adult male, 230 lbs., white, stupid looking, meaty legs, large amount of mid-belly fat, first date in 41 years.
Calendar Date: July 7th, 2011 5:18 p.m.
Location: Lebanon, HI
Other notes:  Needs a shower and a bigger brain.

Showed up at Dave's house at 6:00 pm.  Thinks I'm some kind of hardcore feminist trying to prove myself because I asked him out first.

"Hello, I'm Blood Orchid, or just Blood.  We met, like, an hour ago, but you aren't too bright so I threw my name out there again to keep you current.  It doesn't really matter.  What's your name again?  Devon?  Dietrich?  It's Dietrich, isn't it?"

"Dave, actually."

"Sure.  Whatever.  Should we just go upstairs and get this over with?  I'm really hungry."

"I thought we were going on a date."

"Oh, yeah.  Right."

"I like unusual women."

"And I like idiots.  This is perfect.  You aren't going to start crying, are you?  Because I'm not interested in any of that Phil Donahue/Alan Alda male sensitivity crap.  I need a Kirk not a Picard.  You follow me?  We're walking.  You like walking?"

"Yeah."

"Good.  Let's move it." 

We proceeded down Everett Avenue.  I scanned the street for any place where I could lure this idiot into a dark corner and begin the quick work of skinning him alive.

"I love your eyes," he told me.  "I'm sick of women who are just like everyone else.  Society just squeezes them into a cookie cutter, but the ones who resist all that conditioning are the ones I admire."

Love.  He loved my eyes.  Okay.  This was getting complicated already.  I became instantly overwhelmed with feelings of isolation and loneliness.  My hands trembled and my desperation threatened to overtake me.  I stared into his own stupidly love-starved eyes and put the forthcoming feast on hold.  Seconds later, tears flowed from my glowing eyes and I embraced him.

"I love you," I told him.  And I meant it.

"Already?"

"I'm sorry.  I forgot to mention that you should keep your pie hole shut.  I'm having a moment, you fat slob.  You won't do better than me."

"I agree."

"Because you are stupid.  I get it.  I think that's adorable.  Really."

A tall but very thin woman approached us.  Judging by the hate she was directing at Dave, I knew I had a fantastic man at my side.

"He's mine," I hissed like a feral cat.  "Hit him up for child support payments some other time."

She threw some expletives his way and Dave just took it.  Didn't say a word.  Okay, I was dating a jar of mayonnaise as opposed to a bottle of Tabasco sauce.  Blood, damn it!  Why do you do this, I asked myself.  Why are you continually drawn to losers and freaks?  When will this cycle of abuse end?  Just walk, Blood.  Just walk away and do yourself a favor.  But I couldn't.  I was still hungry.

"Look!  My cat!" I cried, pointing at some stray feline waltzing down a dark alley.  "Please do me a huge favor and get her for me.  Her name is Twaddles."

"I love cats."

"Get your butt over there!  She's escaping!"

Dave bumbled his way into the alley to fetch the cat.  I took one last look at him.  I remembered his kindness, his gentle nature, and the tender moments we shared.  And then I splattered his head with a rusty shovel someone had left lying around.  The blade buried itself in his largely empty head.  His precious blood flowed down my arms.

"My god," I gasped in disbelief.  I fell to my knees and felt my soul quickly collapsing in on itself.  "He's dead.  Oh my god!  No, no, no!  It didn't have to happen this way.  He had so much left to give."

Later that evening:
Dinner for one.  No, no one will be joining me.  No, I'm alright.  It's just one of those days.  But I just keep telling myself that there is someone for everyone.  You have to keep believing because love is like that.  It keeps me going.  You know?  You're really fat.  And available, I take it.  Perfect.

Dave Something or Other ? - 2011