Slowly Going Bald

Why the title? Because the girl plays mind games. And I don't mean the garden-variety head-screwing most women tend to favor. No, this one's all about role-playing, and costumes, and all sorts of stuff. It's pretty awesome, actually, but it takes a while to get used to it.

We were supposed to go out on Saturday night, but that doesn't mean what you think it means. We never actually go out on a typical date, where I would pick her up and take her to dinner and then maybe a movie or a late drink or just right to drinks, followed by a car ride home and the inevitable sweet embrace of the closed door. No, when Alicia and I go out, we always meet up somewhere. At first I thought this was both weird and juvenile: Why can't we drive together like adults? And what, is she embarrassed of me? That's no way to behave. But it's all part of the act, or what Alicia calls "the play," which means not just a show we're putting on together but the lay of the land, the shots, the score. You know, never open your mouth until you know the play, that sort of thing. And the play for Alicia always involves meeting up at a bar or restaurant and pretending we don't know each other.

She'd picked a place in Westwood, which was an interesting choice, since the streets were sweaty with drunken college students wearing flashing green necklaces and wolfing down ice cream sandwiches from Diddy Riese. I found her, though, but this time she'd drawn two other men into her role-playing, as well as a sizable crowd of onlookers. Even in L.A., she gets noticed. And man, she looked great in this skirt-and-sweater thing, with the wrinkly nose and the spastic hand gestures. She's cute, what can I do.

So I watched her go through her little scene: She submitted to the men, acted subservient, but eventually wound up dominating them. Then, at the height of her control, they turned on her, and she left in tears. It was a moving, complex, and even humorous play, the way things turned out. I couldn't help but applaud, and neither could the spectators.

I couldn't find her afterward, which was a little disappointing, but I chalked it up as another one of her flights of fancy, where we go on a date but don't actually talk to each other or look at each other then entire time. It sounds nuts, but that's what I love about her, you know? Not that we're in love or anything; man, that's a DTR we're definitely not ready to do. But yeah, she's something special. So I swallowed my regret and knew that, though I'd be going home alone, I'd see Alicia again soon. I hope she still has my number. I think she does.