Him

The First Time

The first time we met was at a bus stop.

I was working at Cup-A-Joe and extremely pissed off at a manager that apparently had an unknown grudge toward me.

That day, the tips were good.

I did everything that I could to please my customers and I still ended up getting sent home early. Remind you that im living in a hotel with my family because we moved before our lease was up and still hadn't found a place.

Long story short, I needed money and "the bitch" (excuse my french) was playing with my emotions.

That day, I had a long bus ride home because I had no choice. If I would hve asked my mom for a ride, that would have been like signing my own death certificate. She would have charged between five and ten dollars to get to and from my place of work, and the little pit stops in between.

The truth is that I like being a public servant that pays a privatized government institution twenty dollars a week (which is basically gas money) to cart me around all day. However, what I despise is the simple fact that it takes hours to transport me from one place to another.

If I had a car, I would have drove myself to work, but the thing about working at a dead-end job where you get paid minimum wage is that you can't afford it...

You can work for years and never be able to afford a car. Heck, you could work for months and never be able to afford a new pair of shoes.

Ain't that about a bitch?

I had a job, and could barely afford to feed myself.

Life, my dear friends, is a VERY funny thing.

Anyway...

The point is that the bus was my means and mode of transportation until I could actually afford a car.

I had just got off of this glorious piece of machinery and walked across the street, awaiting to be blessed with another.

I sat down and had begun another "Sita" rant. After a while, I gave up on being ticked off at her because it became too much work and it wasn't fun if she wasn't there to hear it. So, I decided to be pissed off at everyone that owned a car, instead.

Quietly, I sat glaring holes through my cell phone, and talking to myself like a mad-man when someone interrupted.

"Umm... Do you have a number?"