A Conversation With Pitbull

Hi there. May I ask you a question?

What kind of time are you having?

I only ask this because – and this is just a suggestion so, please, feel free to tell me if you are not interested. But I was thinking that maybe we could, if you were so inclined… well, we could have a real good time. A real good time.

I know what you are probably thinking. "Who is this guy - this man - who just waltzed into my life, wearing an ascot and sunglasses, only to presume that I am not already having a good time?" Allow me to assure you that you, my friend, are missing the point. I do not make such bold assumptions about your level of enjoyment.

You may very well be having a good time at this very moment. I grant you that. It is, indeed, entirely feasible. But I ask you this question, and I must demand that you answer it honestly: Are you having a real good time? A real good time?

Perhaps you are. And if you are indeed currently having a real good time, then I wish to apologize for my presumptuousness.

But I hope you will admit that it was quite improbable that, at the very moment I approached, you were having a real good time. After all, the other possible descriptions for your mood prior to our chance encounter in this vaguely urban setting far outnumber the one state of mind that piques my interest (that of course being having a real good time).

For instance, consider the example that I previously mentioned - namely, that you were, in fact, merely having a good time. As a further example, it is quite conceivable that you were having a bad time. Or perhaps - and I shudder to think of this possibility, but I must admit that it could feasibly have been true - perhaps you were even having a real bad time. A real bad time.

That pretty much exhausts the range of possibilities.

Besides, how was I to determine merely from the fleeting observations of you I was able to make before we met that you were, indeed, having a real good time (a real good time)? After all, you were not even holding a Diet Dr. Pepper at the time.

So, what say you to my invitation? Will you join me in having a real good time? A real good time?

What? Did I hear you correctly?

Perhaps my ears deceive me, but I must ask: did you really just invite me to join you for a great time?

You did?

Then I must say in response: slow down, mami. We just met. I am not the type who meets a new friend and, on the very first day of the burgeoning companionship, immediately proceeds to having a great time.

I hope that does not disappoint you. And I would certainly not presume to judge anyone who would meet a new companion under an unspecified highway overpass and instantly feel the level of comfort required to enjoy a mutual great time. The rapidity with which one proceeds to the great time stage of a relationship is one's own business. Going that fast simply is not Pitbull's style. But I assure you that if you are willing to stick around and allow our friendship to grow, your patience will be rewarded.

In the meantime, might I suggest that we have a real good time? A real good time.

Why do you turn from me? Are you upset? Does my candor frustrate you?

Your body language betrays annoyance. It should come as no surprise that the signals you are now sending are adversely affecting my ability to have even a good time, much less the real good time that I was hoping we could share together.

What? I'm sorry, but I cannot hear you. You will have to speak louder, so that I can hear your words over the non-descript Latin beat emanating from my luxury SUV. And, no, I will not turn it down. Doing so would not facilitate having a real good time. A real good time.

Wait, what is that you are drinking? Is that a Coca-Cola or, even worse, some kind of generic soda without any form of brand recognition whatsoever? Now that I have approached closer, I see that you are, indeed, drinking a beverage other than Dr. Pepper.

Needless to say, this is disappointing to me. As such, I would like to officially revoke the invitation I had previously extended to you. I no longer wish for you to join me in having a real good time. A real good time.

Rather, I would like for you to go fuck yourself.

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