[Editor’s Note: Mr. T kindly agreed to submit his point of view on how we met. To read MoMo’s perspective, click here.]
Meeting Momo
By: Mr. T
My Saturday was coming together nicely. I’m getting my swerve on in Hoboken, attending a charity event for breast cancer. Dates with beautiful girls are up for auction. I had arrived with the intention of bidding on my friend in case she needed a boost in price. Such are the backroom dealings associated with any worthwhile charity.
The venue is jammed and there are many attractive women dressed above and beyond the call of duty for the surroundings. Clearly these are the prizes. Early in the auction I participate by bidding on a couple young ladies at very low dollar amounts. I am warming up my waving hand and letting the auctioneer know where to find me for later when I may need to spark a bidding war.
Most of my evening is spent carousing with the friends of my friend. The bartender is also an acquaintance so my hands were never empty. I am looking sharp and feeling good. When the time came for my friend to be offered up for bidding I stepped up and did my duty. I did not win the auction, but succeeded in driving the bidding to the highest dollar amount of the evening. A win/win. Frankly I can hang out with Lynn anytime, so why drop $350 for the privilege. I’m all for saving breasts, but had reached my bidding threshold. It was satisfying to watch that guy pay. I felt the warm buzz of philanthropy in my veins. Or was it Sierra Nevada in my veins? Regardless, a good time was had by all, and everybody came out a winner.
By the near conclusion of the auction, thousands have been raised to fight cancer and I’m pretty hammered. It is at this somewhat reflective point, late in the evening, when a raven haired beauty locks eyes on me from about 15 feet away. Said beauty takes aim and approaches with a walk that only exists in high ass heels and a fitted dress. This walk is my weakness. This walk is kryptonite. This walk is all business. This walk is all sex and power and heat-seeking stare-down. Hot. Nobody looks at you like that unless they are feeling something powerful behind their eyes. My “hello there” meter was registering off the charts. My good night was looking great. I’m primed to jump in and go where chance may take me. Nothing but possibilities!
The smoldering approach was punctuated with a smart plant of a heel and a certain rigidity of posture that served to accentuate her long, lean shape. To say she was my type does not quite explain it. I wanted to talk to her. But, before I could offer a proper introduction she leaned in and very simply stated, “You are stupid.” Followed by, “You should have bid more on me.”
She then heel-toe’s her way past me to join a group of people that I do not know. My attempts to converse have been met with the timeless “half-pivot & walk away” maneuver. Frankly, watching her go is more fun than watching her approach. I have just met Princess MoMo. She is definitely attracted to me.
The clock ticks a few more times and the party is over. The crowd disperses into the cool night of the Mile Square. I’m feeling pretty good.
To be continued…
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I hope this guy does not quit his day job. Clearly, writing will never be his career. A bit masochistic to have his dirty laundry aired like that? MoMo, stay tuned for another blogstravaganza from me. I really can’t say when as work is piling up again.
Why didn’t you inform me of this charity event?
You were at your buddy’s Oktoberfest.
I see. Where was it?
Liberty Bar.