"She's in my phone as "Eleanor" now."
"Yea man. You ever see Gone in Sixty Seconds?"
"Yea... Ohhhhhhh... I get it... she's your unicorn, huh?"
"Yup. Everything starts out fine, then before you know it shit blows up and goes down and the next thing you know I pull in the lot with a beat down beauty missing a side view mirror. Something always fucking goes wrong."
"Give me her phone number," he says.
"What? No. Why?"
"So I can get all drunk and yell at her. I'll be like, "Goddamnit, do you KNOW all the shit I have to hear at work because of you? Do you understand this? Do I have Doctor Phil written on my fucking forehead? Will you just fucking go out with him finally?". That should do the job and settle all of this."
"Oh yea. That's foolproof."
"Yup. And get this, so now my girlfriend wants me to shave my chest. I told her that I don't want to, I hate even shaving my face, you know?"
"I hear you. I did that once, but I'm way too hairy to even try to keep up."
"Yea, really, with that fucking wool rug on your chest."
"It's manly as hell. You know it. Don't be jealous."
Shortly after this an annoying cashier broad walks over and starts yapping to us about absolutely nothing as women so often do.
I look at him and smile. He knows what I'm thinking. I ignore her, and say to him, "Yea dude, so the next time your girlfriend says something about you shaving your chest again like that to you, just hit her."
"You mean like a donkey punch?"
"No, no, I mean like wail her one," I say, swinging my arm in the air in an exagerrated punch. "Give'er another black eye to explain to the neighbors. Show her who's boss."
His eyes light up. "Yea, yea, and then, and then, I could tell her... that she's not hairy enough."
The cashier looks at me with wide eyes, turns around and hurries away.
I glance at him. He has a shit eating grin on his face that I could never explain to you.
"Goddamn, is that all I gotta do to get her away from me?" I ask.
"I guess so. Shit man, I wish we'd known this like two months ago."