Marika Malaea

faithful marauder + fake royal

A Mexican Love Story

with one comment

The anniversary was fun. I especially liked this one because it included all of my favorite things: hanging at the Esq’s parents house, ordering our favorite pizza, seeing a great movie (Religulous), taking a walk, eating pho on a cold day, buying some girl porn (wedding magazines), playing video games, and lying around the apartment like two lazy gits in our underwear. At one point, the Esq donned a suit of armor and loaded up his battle axe – and I broke out the Mexican wrestling masks – but I assume everyone does that to prepare for sex.

Sometimes an umpire uniform wouldn’t be out of line. Maybe just having a referee present: an impartial judge who made sure everything was balanced and fair; an official dude who could intervene and prevent lockjaw or pulled hamstrings; someone who would protect the interests of both parties and call the match. Think about it. I remember being 19-years old quite clearly, and I remember what 19-year old men had to offer me by way of a sexual revolution: nothing, except urinary tract infections. Sure, I did some meaningless whoring around like everyone else, but luckily I don’t have any permanent reminders. Using Subway, my place of tenuous employment, as a dating pool couldn’t have helped. WINNERS, ALL. If I could go back in time and talk to my 19-year old self, I wouldn’t even say anything; I would just punch my young self in the face and hope I got the message. Then I would point at the drug dealer I was dating at the time and say WHAT WAS I THINKING – NOT ONE ORGASM AND YOUR WEED FUCKING SUCKED. “I think it’s Kona Gold,” MY ASS. I think he’s still in prison, actually, so this scenario just got ten thousand times better.

None of this matters, since I have Smarty McSmarterson for a partner now. The way we met is truly amazing. I’ve told the story so many times, you guys can probably recite it from memory, but here goes: while I was jogging – training for a marathon, actually – I ran past a building that I noticed was on fire. I could hear the ambulances, and saw the firetrucks screaming down the street, so I stopped to see what I could do. All of a sudden, the building door opened, and through the flames I could see the Esq running with a newborn baby in one hand and a puppy in the other. OH MY GOD, HE WAS SAVING THEM FROM THE FIRE. Also, the baby had Down’s Syndrome. And the puppy’s name was Jesus.

I didn’t say this story was going to be factual, but I did say it was truly amazing. I decided that our story wasn’t exciting enough, so I embellished it a bit. Which parts were embellished, you ask? Well, here are the facts: I was there. The Esq was there. And there was a building. Those are the ‘factual elements’ to the story. The point is we met, and have put those Lucha Libre masks to good use ever since.

The real story: The Esq and I met at Mamounia on Capitol Hill at a mutual friend’s birthday party. Yawwwn. But it was kind of a goth party, so that was interesting – and with our Moroccan food came a Moroccan stripper sassy bellydancer, so, you know… that was breast-astic. I love to eat food with my fingers while staring at some white girl’s jiggling rack; I can’t imagine who wouldn’t. I remember seeing him for the first time, though, and can even recall the first three things that ran through my mind when I sat down next to him:

1. Cute. Very well-dressed.
2. Too young for me. Way.
3. Single, based on the gold-rimmed glasses; those would be the first thing to go if we were dating.

#1 was obvious, #2 was unfortunate, and #3 told me I was interested, regardless of age or glasses. Actually, those glasses were taken out of rotation before we hit three months of dating, I’m not kidding. Sadly, I lost my cool ones and had to resort back to the ones that are currently perched on my very resentful face, right around the time I met him. So the spectacle snobbery bit me in the ass after all: optical karma. If you’d like to see the blog I wrote the night I met the Esq, check it out here.

…and they lived happily ever after, in their Lucha Libre masks and armored suits, and not much else.



Written by sn0tteh

October 6, 2008 at 6:27 PM

Posted in Uncategorized

One Response

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  1. I love your letters to The Esq.
    I love how brutally honest you are about your insecuritites.
    And i really love that he loves you anyway.

    Kudos to the Mexican wrestling team.

    (PS-Religulous is full of win.)


    October 8, 2008 at 3:51 PM

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