Artsy, But Not Artful

Story Submitted by Mitchell:

Lindsey worked in a neighborhood art supply store, and she and I would talk whenever I happened to be in there to buy supplies.  She made all of her own clothes, and was working her way through graduate school.  I figured that a girl as creative and friendly as she was had to have a boyfriend, but she didn't.

On our first date, I took her to a vegetarian Asian place that I remember her saying that she liked.  Not too long into dinner, a tall guy with shoulder-length hair came up to our table.

"Hans!" Lindsey said, and hugged him.  She introduced me to him and they caught up briefly before he took leave.

I asked her, "How do you two know each other?"

She said, "We used to date.  He was the best kisser I've ever met."

I'm not sure why she added that extra detail, but she had added it, and that was enough.  Not long after, another guy came in to pick up some food for take-out.  I noticed him staring at us, and although I had never seen him before, I waved at him.  He came over.

"Brad?  Oh my God!" Lindsey said, and gave him a big hug.  She introduced me to him and went through a very similar pattern of conversation as she had with Hans.  I wasn't surprised that she was this popular.  We were in an area full of artists, and she worked at an art supply store, after all.

After Brad left, I asked her, as a joke, "Did you two used to date, too?"

She nodded.  "Yeah.  On and off for five years.  He cheated on his girlfriend with me.  A lot."

"You're a popular girl."

"What can I say?  I'm a great lay."  She grinned and drank some water.

I'm not a jealous guy, but something just didn't make me feel right about the situation.  Maybe it was the level of detail she went into, or the fact that the details she chose to give about each guy involved something sexual in nature.  Regardless, I tried to focus on having a good time with her.

When we left the restaurant, she said, "Oh my God, do you mind if I call my friend Jeff?  It's his birthday and I totally forgot to call him."

I honestly didn't mind.  "Go ahead."

She pulled out her phone and said, "Thanks.  Jeff's a great friend.  A great, great friend."

It seemed as though she was fishing for me to ask, "And how is Jeff such a great friend," but I didn't say a word.

I didn't have to.  She did: "Aren't you curious as to how Jeff is such a great friend?"

I shrugged.  She whispered to me, "When I needed a place to crash, he let me stay in his bed with him.  We had sex every night for two months."

I said, "Are you a whore or something?" before I could stop myself.  Yes, it was a stupid thing to say, but my mouth moves faster than my brain sometimes.

She said, "You did not just say that.  Holy shit.  He's just a friend!  How dare you!  Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm sorry."

"Too late for that, asshole.  Too late for that!"

She turned away from me and dialed a number into her phone.  Into the receiver, she said, "Happy birthday, baby!  Want a birthday lay?"  She turned to me and stuck her tongue out.  She said, "I've got lube.  I'll be right over."

She hung up the phone and said, "Something's come up.  Got to go."

She turned and walked away from me.  I called after her, "Enjoy not whoring."  Again, stupid thing to say, but if you're going to sleep around with everyone in town, why be so sensitive about it?  She could've laughed it off.  Anyway, I found a different art supply store after that.