This Weekend’s 1st Date With The Struggling Actress
A couple weeks ago my friend and I went out for a juicy steak dinner. Our waitress was a very cute red head—why am I attracting so many read head’s lately?—with a huge, curly head of hair and lot’s of freckles. I pegged her at, oh, 30? She was quite petite, and looked like she kept herself skinny and in shape, just in case she happened to get a break while serving a T-bone and taters to a Hollywood big-wig.
My friend started flirting with her right away, and continued to every time she came to our table. I actually wanted to tell him to shut the FUCK up; it was getting cheesy and embarrassing. He was relentless, “So what do you do? You’re an actress, huh? That’s cool, you working at all? Must be pretty tough out there, huh? How many days a week do you work here? Are the tips good?” Dude, fucking shut up! I was on the verge of committing Harry Caray with my steak knife I swear. Strange thing was, she was kind of responsive to the flirting. She gave us 50% off the bill—which was really unexpected—and told my friend that she’d like to hook him up with one of her friends. “I’ve got someone I think might like you”, she said. My friend was into it, and we all exchanged numbers.
Since she made it clear that she thought he was a fucking tool, I decided to give red a call. On the phone red said, “I’m surprised that you called because you barely said anything to me, but I’m glad you did”. This past Sat night we met at a bar in Venice. She was wearing a thick, beige turtleneck that paired nicely with her red hair. She told me a similar story that I’ve heard many, many times before: She came here 6 years ago from Virginia to act, and is waitressing until she lands something solid.
She’s had a couple of small roles, but obviously nothing major. She played me a clip of some of her acting, which she had on her phone. The bar was loud so I couldn’t really hear it, but it didn’t matter. In the clip she was in a bed, arguing with some fat greasy guy who was supposed to be her BF. She was wearing this little white nightie, and was hitting this guy on his chest while screaming. After she beat him up for a minute, she stood up and screamed some more—I thought—fuck, she’s sexy! Her body’s fucking good, too.
I’m no thespian, but I’ve lived in this city long enough to know what’s good, bad, and what’s fucking horrible. I couldn’t say much about her acting, but the movie definitely looked pretty fucking horrible.
I liked red. She was bubbly and sweet. She wasn’t wearing True Religions, Ed—fuck my ass—Hardy, and she wasn’t trying too hard. She was just a girl from Virginia who was here trying to act. At one point she told me that she also had a massage therapists license, and began to point out these specific spots on the back of one’s head where frequent blockages happen, and require massaging. I wasn’t trying to be creepy, or perverted in the slightest bit when I asked her to point them out on my head—really, I was actually curious. She responded, “I can’t touch your head, I’m pretty sure that would be inappropriate?” Huh? Did I miss something?
I wasn’t sure if she was kidding, or dead serious, but I’m pretty sure she was dead serious, which left me thinking—what the fuck is her deal? After a of couple hours and a couple of drinks, I walked red to her car and we gave each other a nice hug. There wasn’t any kind of instant, “fuck me now!” dynamic, but her innocence—and her body in that white nightie—definitely sparked my attention. She suggested the next time we hang; we do a double date with my friend and hers. I told her it sounded like a great idea, kissed her on the cheek, went home and jerked off. I’m looking forward to seeing her again, and will try to hook up that double date this week.
3 months ago
