Introducing cry-baby loser part1

How I met loser
Rush hour is everyone’s nightmare, but I imagine it is a little easier for those that have cars. I mean, sitting in your car in traffic jam, listening to drive time FM shows presented by dj’s with phony accents beats having to tussle for a taxi hours on end after a long day at work or wherever. So you can imagine what a breath of fresh air it must have been for me to get to my taxi stage and there is this cuuute guy waiting just nearby and making eyes at me. I feigned disinterest, and continued nodding my head to the heavy metal beats in my ear, but really, I could have hugged myself right then.

Anyway, so a fleet of cars came and I found that could not muscle my way through the throng to get space in the 14 seater. Now normally I am aggressive and will normally push everyone out of the way, but I could not very well do it what with cuteness watching and all. And then he did something honorable. When the next taxi came, he pushed everyone to one side, ignored everyone else’s sneers, and beckoned me to enter. And a hero was born.

I felt obliged to book him a seat right next to me, we exchanged names, (me a phony one), we shared my earphones, swapped phone numbers, and the rest as they say is history. Okay so there is no history really, but you get. At first it was exciting having all this attention from a hot guy. I interpreted the constant phone calls as concern and shit but it got quite tiring having to answer for my every waking, and sometimes sleeping minute. I almost carried a recorder to bed just so I would know exactly what I had gotten up to while I slept incase he queried about that (okay so maybe I am exaggerating a little).

He wanted to see me all the time, to come to my work place all the time, and after work, he would be waiting to go home together. But what really creeped me out is, after a week of escorting me home, he decided to christen me. He said my name-Rachael (the phony one I had supplied) was ordinary and he wanted to call me something fabulous. So I said to go ahead, and then he said,
“You shall be called……”(him, pausing for effect) (me, thinking get it over with loser)

“… Duncan”. His name. I was at this point looking out for any sign that he had maybe manufactured a rare joke, but waa! He was dead serious. That is when I almost ran. Almost. But I stayed and decided to own up that Rachael was indeed not my real name and that my real name was antipop, at which point he proceeded to trash my real awesome name to nothing-ness. He insisted that Duncan sounded way cooler and I was baptized.
The guy was sweating me. But I played along for about a month. Afterall, it is every girl’s dream to have a guy at her beck and call. This was my toy boy, and I was determined to milk the experience… Until the tears started to flow…

Part two coming up soon.