He's Just Not that Into Me

So I called him.

Akeem. The man who only a couple of months ago deemed me the "winner" of a bible. The man who wrote his name and number in it and everything. I called him.

And you know what? He didn't have a fucking clue who I was.

Sucks, right?

I mean, here I was, thinking I was special. A bright, articulate heathen who had caught his eye that morning in February. But as he repeatedly asked how I knew him, it was clear I meant nothing to him. I guess he goes around handing out bibles all the time.

After recounting our time together, he said "oohhh yeah" in that way that made it clear he still didn't remember me but didn't want to be a dick.

Nevertheless, I didn't let this rejection stop me. I had questions for Akeem and I wasn't going to hang up until I got them.

"So, I'm calling because I wanted to know why, out of all the houses you surveyed, I got the bible?"

"Well, I belong to a 7th Day Adventist Church in the area and we were doing out reach and helping people out. We gave it to you because we wanted you to check it out. Not to win you over. You can check out our church. We respect your beliefs."

First off, 7th Day Adventist? I didn't know they did house calls. And here I was assuming he was a Jehovah's Witness. Seems I don't really know Akeem at all.

Second, while his statement seems disingenuous -- if you respect my beliefs (or lack thereof) why convince me that I "won" a bible with the hopes that I will "check it out?" -- he didn't seem all that concerned with me either.

I mean, maybe Akeem's up to his neck in heathens and I'm just one more on the pile. But something tells me he just wasn't all that concerned with converting me, which, kinda pissed me off. Since I started with this whole dating analogy, I'll stay the course with an even creepier analogy. Let's say I've got big tits. Really, nice big ones that look like heaven in this low cut shirt I just bought. Now, some guy waves and doesn't even acknowledge the heaving masterpiece below my neck. Is it flattering that at least ONE guy didn't start his conversations with my cleavage? Yes. Am I a bit suspicious and put off that he didn't sneak a peek at my bountiful bazooms? You damn skippy.

I say all this to say, I like tits. Wait, no. I'm saying this because while I don't want to be singled out for my lack of religion, if you're gonna look at it (and give me a prize for it), than shit yeah, I wanna talk about it. Don't give me the "wow, I didn't even see your gi-normous breasts falling out of your shirt." It's dishonest and I won't stand for it.

Anyway, Akeem eventually invited me to a class about prophecy, but you could tell he was totally half-assing it. You know, if I went he'd be all "oh hey, glad you came" and then giggle with his Jesus-buddies "Oh my god, I can't believe he came. I'm out of here."

Dude, I need to take a nap.