My name is Blanca
During the time when I was living in Dallas behind the Arboretum in the Casa Linda area (dry - it’s all dry - no alcohol sales at that time - not relevant to the story, but important to point out) that a new guy moved into the apartment about 5 or 6 down from mine. At first I tried to ignore him - waving his arms and shouting like he did - and just walk down into the parking deck to my car, not trip over my own two feet - as I do from time to time (apparently) - get into my car, and leave.
However, very suddenly he started the business of following me to my car - all the way down the steep incline in the parking deck - crazy person that he was. So I was forced to start talking to him - if I ignored him I became the crazy person (and that wasn’t fair)! But, with this “I’m now in your face and I’m not going anywhere unless you run me over” tactic he knew he would wear me down - he must have done this before.
That day came when he asked me out to dinner - I suggested coffee - he offered up supper (What is that anyways? Something in between?) - we settled on beer. The date was not too bad if I remember correctly, but I forgot to tell you a detail or something - he is from Venezuela - a hot-blooded South American! And he freely admitted this, everything was extremely and overtly sexual with him specifically (I’m not saying because he is from Venezuela - just because that is who he is). Now, I was raised Catholic - which - I probably don’t have to tell anyone this - means that there are parts of prudishness of me that will come up in the most inopportune of times - this being one of them. So when I had, had enough of the heavy petting and promises of something in Spanish that I didn’t understand, but sounded beautiful (I love the Spanish language) I called it a night.
As any good gentleman would, he walked me home and somehow wiggled his way inside my apartment and wiggled his way out of his pants! “What? I don’t want to take a bath?” I said to him. He then goes on to tell me; “What a beautiful cat (she is pure white); you know, in my language Blanca means white.” - you don’t say? I had just finished telling him her name was . . . Blanca. Ok, buddy time to go. So it takes me a good long time to get his pants back on and that was only with a promise that I would go over to his apartment and look at some sort of something. Ladies, I probably don’t have to tell you that once the pants come off in one apartment . . . .
So we both go over to his apartment and he starts taking off his pants again - I’m thinking this is a theme! I ask him what is he doing and very innocently he says; “I have a better bathtub, besides I have nice smelly things. I’ll wear my Speedo.” Well, by all means let’s proceed! Better bathtub - check! Nice smelly things - check! Strange man in a Speedo - check! The trifecta of a bathroom seduction. I don’t think so, pumpkin.
As a way to stall and figure out how to get out of there, I just start asking questions about anything my eyes fall on in his apartment. “Oh, I see your remote - you use Direct TV too? What do you think about it when it goes out in storms. Do you read during that time? Those Texas storms - am I right?”
I won’t bore you with the details, suffice it to say I did get out and he moved shortly after that. And Blanca? Happily munching on grass here in Wilmington, North Carolina!
