My Genie Is Cooler Than Yours.

Have you ever found yourself really feeling a guy, but all he wanted to do was feel you up?

---

I mean the evening was magic, let me tell ya. Everything was perfect- the setting, the food, the conversation, the guy...

25-year old marketing executive, Colby Jacobs, had all the suave and sophistication of Clooney, but the looks and personality of McConaughey. God, he was perfect.

His speech dripped with charm while his mannerisms manifested class. Old money, I would assume. Southern upbringing as well, indicated by the tepid accent that he couldn't hide even if he tried.

Tinder had done me many a wrong in the past, but appeared to be making up for it and then some with this guy. For once, my date actually looked like his pictures and lived up to the essence of his profile!

Usually, my dates are a total catfish in the looks department or a straight up tool-bag looking to grab my ass and not much else.

So after dinner when Colby asked if he could drive me home (since I arrived in a Taxi) like the gentleman I knew he was, I accepted.

After all, we had exchanged messages over Tinder one night prior to our date in which I playfully-yet-not-so-playfully asked if he was "just another jerk" looking for a hook-up, to which he obviously responded that he wasn't. Like what else was he going to say, you know?

8 out of 10 times, a hook-up is what they're looking for, but they'll never admit it, leaving little ole me to deduce their intentions for myself upon meeting them.

That said, the duration of our date had been filled with class and genuine intrigue for one another, which lead me to the deduction that he was, in fact, "not just another jerk."

So with my gut instinct and taut demeanor, I followed him to his car. With an ass like that, I'd have followed him all the way to Thailand... but we eventually got to his car and he even opened my door for me!

And I thought chivalry was dead. Tinder: I award you even more brownie points.

The drive was filled with even more delectable conversation (and even a little hand holding) until the car came to a slow halt as we had arrived at my upstate New York apartment building.

I was totally ready to marry this guy as I had just lived my dream date, but instead prepared myself for a simple, yet passionate goodnight kiss.

There we were, just looking at one another, with a collective knowledge that it was the end of the date. I was expecting his eyes to leave my gaze and land on my lips with his lips coming in for a soft entry... but that is not at all what happened.

Remember when I said all guys ever wanted to do was feel you up?

Well that's what happened.

He attacked me like a starved lion. His tongue was down my throat and his hands were literally all over my body so much so that I swore in that instance he had more than two of them.

I pushed him off, got out of the car, and ran into my apartment with tear-filled eyes.

Thanks Tinder. You never disappoint. He turned out to be a jerk, after all. A frog and not a Prince. Stop right there, Jazz. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

---

That was two nights ago. March 15th, 2021: The night I purged my life of Tinder and every other dating app that fills this cold, cruel world.

That night was the last straw. I officially give up.

I've heard about these no-man-land places called convents... maybe I'll join one of those?

All I know is I can't stand to be around testosterone right now.

*Ding*, *Ding*

Great. My boss just texted me yet another rejection of my manuscript.

She wouldn't know a great manuscript if you slapped her upside the head with it. After all, I'm the one that passes on any and all relevant content to her. I swear, I just need to be publisher already.

So not only is my love life a cold carcass of deleted dating apps, but my career is non existent as my book keeps getting rejected and I'm constantly being picked over for editor. Uuggghhh.

---

Screw all this. It's St. Patty's Day and I don't have to work tomorrow. It's St. Patty's Day, so I'm gonna party like it's St. Patty's Day.

Granted, my friends are all in Miami for our friend's wedding and I have no one to party with, but who cares. I'm going to party anyway.

I leave my cozy apartment to go to my favorite liquor store as I'm fresh out of booze and need to replenish my stock.

After spending $100 at the liquor store, I'm cruising down the road to Metallica when I see a sign for an antique mall that immediately takes me to memories of antiquing with my grandmother. I have to stop.

It's 30 minutes before closing, but I pull into the parking lot anyway. I'll be quick. Probably won't find anything anyway as antiquing is usually %90 worthless junk and %10 solid gold, but believe me, that %10 is definitely worth it when you find it.

I walk inside and am warmly greeted by a stocky gray fellow with a funny hat. He asks if he can help me find anything to which I sheepishly say "no, just looking."

I scan the ancient, termite-eaten shelves for that %10 and almost give up hope until I see a mysterious black notebook. It's leather bound and completely authentic with a full spine of slightly feathered white pages. Sold.

I live for finding the perfect notebook as I'm always jotting down some story idea with black ink on blank pages.

I'm almost to the check out counter when I see this ornate object... gold with sapphire accents... it almost looks like an antique gravy boat. Is this a gravy boat?

I'm so intrigued by it and it's only $20... I lap it up with my notebook and proceed to the counter. I'm checking out while simultaneously making light conversation with the owner because I want to know if this item is truly a gravy boat, but I don't want to sound stupid by actually asking if it is...

Motioning after the assumed gravy boat I say, "That's some nice design work, huh?"

"Oh yeah, those Mesopotamians really know what they're doing!"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh yeah, they're known for producing top grade oil lamps like this one."

I internally chuckle as I can't believe I thought this lamp to be a gravy boat.

The stocky fellow hands me my items and wishes me a Happy St. Patrick's Day as I make my way to the door.

I get in my car all giddy at the collection of my new goodies. I open my glove compartment, or should I say house of receipts, when I find an acid strip that my friend Lydia had left behind from the last time we partied.

Hmmm... should you, Jazz? I say to myself, mulling over the risks of taking acid by oneself and knowing how dangerous it is.

Ah, screw it. It's St. Patty's Day. I plop the acid strip on my tongue and head for home.

---

As I walk in my door, I can feel the acid starting to take affect. I plop down on my couch with my goodies and booze, turn on some tunes, and start chugging.

I'm so gonna pay for this in the morning...

Barely lucid, I keep eyeing my new lamp on the coffee table in front of me. I grab for the handle and while admiring it, notice a couple scuffs on the side of it. I grab for my T-shirt on the arm of the chair next to me and attempt to rub off the imperfections.

All of a sudden, I hear a loud whoosh and feel a slight breeze in front of my face. I move the hair from in front of my eyes and I literally can't believe the sight before me.

A puff of blue smoke. A wispy figure emerges with a black ponytail and black goatee. He's big and he's towering over me. Hell, he almost takes up my entire living room! He spins dramatically and then speaks:

"Aaayyy, 10,000 years will give you such a crick in the neck!"

He continues to rant buoyantly and contort into various forms, swirling about my tiny living room. I watch in awe, but I'm not scared because I've seen this before. I've heard this voice before. It's Robin Williams! It's the Genie!

I rub my head and look at the glass of booze in my hand. Ah, Jazz. Here comes the hallucinations!

Robin Williams is dead and Genie is a fictional Disney character. You know this! And, hallucinations are the most common side effect of acid so I guess just enjoy the spectacle while you can! It's not every day you get to star in a Disney movie.

I can't help but laugh hysterically at Genie whirling around my living room, completely confident in the fact that I'm hallucinating and this is nothing more than a crazy dream.

Just like in the Disney classic, Genie throws a microphone in my face and asks me my name. I say Jasmine and he starts making all kinds of fun of it. Again, I laugh because this is freaking hilarious.

"Well alright Jasmine, let's get down to wish fulfillment. You only get 3 and lets just skip past the wishing for more wishes because that is not allowed!"

God, I've missed Robin William's big showman voice.

Look at me, I'm caught up in nostalgia while Genie over here is offering me 3 wishes...

"So, what's it going to be?"

I look at him and play along as I know this is just a dream.

"3 wishes, huh? Anything I want?"

"You can't wish for more wishes, but other than that, yes, anything you want, little lady!"

Even though this is just a dream, I marinate on my crappy life and the 3 wishes that could make it all better...

"Okay, Genie. I wish for... $20,000, the perfect man, anddd for my book to be published!"

"You want to do this in bulk then? All 3 wishes now?"

"Yeah, I'll never see you again anyway."

Genie looks at her puzzled, but grants her request anyway.

"Okay, your wishes have been granted."

"Thanks Genie! This has been fun, but I'm getting pretty tired, so maybe you should just go back in your lamp now."

"Whatever you say, Master!"

And just like that, I was out.

---

12 hours later, I awake to sirens roaring down the street. I rub my eyes and press my hands against my pounding forehead. The first thing I see on my coffee table is cash. And a lot of it...

I reach for it and fan it through my hands. Yep, that's real... But what is it doing here?

I start to freak out when suddenly I see my newly acquired lamp. Wait... It's all coming back to me, now. The lamp, my hallucination, my wishes...

I reach for the lamp. My hands are shaking. But I manage to rub the side...

*POOF*

Holy crap.