The Communist Zamboni Man
I met the CZM at a burlesque themed party I attended. He drove a Zamboni at the local ice rink, that's a noble profession, right? He wasn’t ugly and didn't seem like a serial killer, so when he asked me out I really had no reason to say no. So we met for dinner and everything was going swimmingly.
Skip ahead to two bottles of wine and three mojitos later.
The restaurant was shutting and we agreed the night shouldn’t end there so we decided that another bottle of wine was absolutely necessary. He casually said there was a shop by his house and it would be ideal because we could hang out at his. This seemed a perfectly reasonable suggestion to me and I went along with it.
Skip ahead one more bottle of wine.
Then the usual drunk sexual antics ensued, but before anything got too far he uttered a cringe worthy: 'I want to be inside you'
I couldn’t help but laugh at him. Who says that to someone they barely know? My laughter ‘apparently’ completely killed the mood so I conveniently passed out.
The horror struck the next morning when I woke up hungover and ugly to discover that he had loads of banners in his room saying thing like 'I love Jesus’, 'Praise Allah', and he had a large bookshelf filled with various holy scriptures and World of Warcraft books.
This was the first thing that made me think: shit, who is this man?
But being the hungover mess I was, I wasn't going to turn down the offer of free coffee and food. On the way, he suggested we get our coffees and walk around the lake/park. It seemed like a romantic idea, so I thought I’d forgive all of the contrasting religious paraphernalia.
Unfortunately, it started pouring down with rain the second we got to the park, which felt more like tiny pellets of ice stabbing me in my already weathered face. Then the waterfowl that habituated the lake attacked me; they made me spill my precious coffee. The bastards.
By the time we got back to his, I was drenched, cold and pissed off and that's when I saw it sitting on a side table.
The Communist Manifesto
I’m not one to immediately judge so asked about it, to which he replied "I just think communism is a good idea"
This prompted me to make excuses to leave; I didn’t want to date a communist. On my way home, I considered other reasons he wasn’t the one for me:
• He didn't have a toaster; he had to make our toast in the oven. Who doesn't have a fucking toaster? Communists apparently.
• His house smelled of damp. Not a particularly terrible thing, but I don't really have time for anything that makes my nose cringe.
• On second thought, he cleans ice for a living.
So, I never spoke to him again. Except when I ran into him at another party, where we got high and he called me a bitch.