I’m a Great Boyfriend

I tried to ignore that little girl. Really, I did. But she just kept chattering away and thankfully, she finally removed that stick from her ass long enough to be somewhat cute at the age of twelve. Okay, I know that was harsh…a twelve year old having a stick up her ass. But, really, she was a bitch

She kept saying how her brother was going to take her there that morning, but he overslept. So her dad was going to take her, but he was on his way to tee-time. Then her mom stepped in and decided to just drop her off on the corner and would pick her back up at 10:30.

"I figure if I don’t have a ticket by then, there’s no way I’m getting one."

"Yeah, good point," I muttered and kept looking forward in the line. A lady from the department store had come out and was now distributing lottery tickets to designate our positions in line. That way all the insane, pathetic people who slept overnight had no ground on us who showed up at seven.

Alright, I admit, my showing up at this place, let alone at seven in the morning, is pretty pathetic. I have no explanation for it, so I’m not going to bother to justify it to myself for any other reason than that I’m a great boyfriend.

I heard more chattering going on around me and I supposed I’d gotten so bored by the girl’s talk that I didn’t bother to acknowledge her anymore. That apparently doesn’t fly in her books because her grubby little hand was swatting at me like crazy.

Then it started tugging at my jacket. I wanted to smack the bitch. But, then I realized that if people thought I was with her, they wouldn’t think I was so pitiable that I was actually getting tickets for my own good.

"What?" I harped in return before even looking at her hand or her face. I was still watching that manager lady come down the line. She was getting close to us…

The hand stopped for a moment so I reconsidered my previous thoughts on how sad I’d look to be standing alone in that line AND ignoring some little girl. I glanced down now with a more willing face and tried gentler, "What?"

"You think we’ll get some?"

I muttered immediately while imagining the sweet reward of getting tickets for Amy. And maybe Je’Nise. I’ll have to think about that. Do I think I’ll get some? "I will."

"What?"

Either she couldn’t hear me or couldn’t understand my double meaning on that statement. I figure either of the two is just fine by me and I shrugged it off. "I don’t know…" she glanced down the line to end as it curled around the curb of the sidewalk. "There’s a lot of people here."

All I did was raise my eyebrow in not really thinking it was that great of a thing to say. How lame was she? Granted, she was twelve, but she was talking like she was seven. ‘There’s a lot of people here.’ Well, no shit Sherlock.

Her hand started that jerking again. The excitement was really annoying. "Is she coming yet?"

With a quick nod of my head, "Yeah, here she comes."

And yes! In a matter of moments the lady was there, with smooth manicured hands, passing out slips of paper with nothing but a number on them.

I whipped the paper around in circles in my had, getting it first with ink side up then into view for me to read…

What?

I was really confused. Maybe shocked was more like it.

"What number did you get?" She was now jumping against my arm. Easy access for an elbow in the eye, little girl.

"Six-ten."

"What?"

I annunciated this time and nearly spelled it out for her sixth-grade brain. "Six-hundred and ten."

Her eyebrows screwed up on her small face then she glanced behind us, in front of us, then back at me. "There’s not that many people here."

With a shrug, I waved a hand out with aggravation finally hitting me from standing with the girl for so long. "I don’t know how many people are here. But that’s my number."

Giving a pathetic smile, "Turn it over."

I flipped the sheet over and nothing. It was blank. I shrugged to her again.

"No, turn it…" The girl grabbed my ticket and I wanted to hit her. I don’t care if I was all the way in the six-hundreds, there’s no way she’s cutting. Not even if her number was six-eleven. "This way," she grunted against my refusal to let go. "Guy, you’re real annoying."

What was with all this guy shit?

And I was annoying?

"Stop with the Guy crap!"

I was real mad for some reason. But apparently not mad enough to swear in front of all these kids. Which would have been bad because just with my loud voice the parents looked around. If I had used the ever present vulgarities in my mind, they would have towed me out of line. And there went number six-ten.

She flailed her arms about. "Well, I don’t know your name!"

"Ryan!"

"Fine! Ryan!"

"Fine!" God, I was just like her now. Throwing fits and yelling in publc.

"Anyways," with a huff and I rolled my eyes at her. "You’re not six-ten. You’re nineteen."

Now that was an interesting idea. It calmed me down considerably. "What?"

"You had it upside down. See," she then pointed to the slight line coming underneath the stem of the nine. In my original ‘six-ten’ case, it would have been under the rounded part of the number…meaning six.

But, my paper wasn’t like that.

Yeah, okay, thanks for the first grade lesson kid.

Then it dawned on me between my mental rages at the kid and being able to hit her inside my mind.

I’m number nineteen…I can get excellent seats…Amy’s gonna love me forever.

I’m a great boyfriend.