douche flute in cuff links

hotel bar“I’m a salad kind of guy,” he said as the waitress looked away in disdain.  Understandable disdain from her considering this was a sports bar, not Tavern on the fucking Green.

He wore tight designer jeans, way too expensive shoes, a royal blue blazer and diamond-studded cuff links that were protruding aggressively outward so everyone could see.   He was fit, had great skin and tight cropped hair, almost military hair.  And yes, his teeth were fucking perfect too.

He had wireless iPod ear buds, so it was nearly impossible to tell if he was speaking with someone in real life or someone from his contact list.  A contact list full of hundreds of people who aren’t his friends, but just people who somehow make him money.

He continued to engage the waitress.  “Do you have any healthier options.”  In an increasingly strained tone, she apologized and said that was the only menu they had.  I could feel her hatred growing and I understood it.  Everyone at the bar understood it.

He ordered a grilled chicken salad with balsamic dressing on the side and a Stella draft.

As if I didn’t already know, his beer order solidified the fraud.  Someone who dresses like him should never drink a Stella.  Stella is just a fancier version of Coors Light.  What a cunt.

I took a heaping bite of my greasy as hell, mushroom Swiss burger with extra mayonnaise and smiled deeply inside.  I then dipped one of my steak fries in a ketchup-mayo swirl, stuck it between my teeth and looked right at him as I wiped the crumbs from my lips.

Oh, this douche flute with cuff links would probably cut off one of his balls to eat what I’m eating.  But that would require another ten miles on the tread mill.  Sure, he’s more disciplined than me, but who really gives a fuck?  Who wants to eat a salad for every meal?

An older man sat down between us.  He looked nice enough and was ordering take out.  He asked for their strongest IPA while he waited.  Now that’s a real man.  No pussy, ass Stella for him.

The old man attempted to talk to cuff links, but he motioned his hand to indicate he was on a phone call.  That’s the problem with those fucking ear buds, it propels douche bags to an extra level of douchery.

He finished the call and actually apologized to the old man.  Holy shit, maybe cuff links does have a soul, I thought to myself.  But he then quickly erased that notion.

“I’m an executive with a large bank,” he told the old man even though the old man didn’t ask.  It all started to fall in place now.

His phone rang again, he said it was his “fucking, pain in the ass ex-wife.”  He said hello and then his tone changed.  It was one of his children on the other line.  He quickly turned into a caring father.  “I was just thinking of you sweetie,” he said and then quickly ended the conversation and hung up.

What a fucking fraud.  Have fun with your huge bank account, overly expensive clothes and fake ass personality.  All that money can never buy your soul back.

I like salads too, but I will never be that “salad kind of guy.”



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