A Little Less Conversation - A Second Interlude
And who says Marty isn't into Asian women . . .
OK, I know, enough with the politics. So I'll take a quick break and revert to the Marty we all know and love before I finish off my l'il Dean-like rant. Anyway, it seems like summer is the time all the yellow sistas be jonesin' for the Starkster. For the most part, it's been women from Singapore, South Korea and China that hallucinate a "Get Green Card Here" sign above my profile in Match.com. This summer tho', so far it's been Americanized cuties from within a 15 mile radius of Casa de Stark.
I used to dread that giddy feeling with short bursts of hyperactivity and lightheadedness that comes with the beginning of possibility--I knew that it was all an illusion, nothing would come of it. I knew that I would come crashing down and I would be back to the mundane. Kinda like going to a five star restaurant, but instead of anticipating the meal, thinking about how the meal is all gonna come out in a steamy dump of a turd two hours later.
Obviously, I was a fucking idiot.
But there are signs that I'm not going to be in the short bus for much too long. Like I'm confident that, even though my future financial advisor kept saying how she tries to make all her clients her friends, it was her way of attempting to be cool and nonchalant while being totally into yours truly. Why? Because I doubt financial advisors spend an hour and a half drinking a small coffee out in the sun with their clients after finishing with the business portion of the meeting--especially if the financial advisor usually spends until 10pm in her office, and the ninety minutes worth of slowly nursing coffee will push back that 10pm time to 11:30 pm. I also doubt financial advisors, even slightly tipsy ones in martini bars, let potential clients put their arm around their waists when they first meet them.
So this is a long roundabout Marty Stark way of saying, yeah, I'm cautiously optimistic.
By the by, Financial Chick kind of looks like the above chica.
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