I went on two dates with the Southern Gentleman...and at that point I was undecided about how I felt about the guy. He was tall, dark and handsome, polite, educated, articulate and well written...a big plus with me. Even if you're George Clooney-esque and it becomes apparant to me that you don't know the difference between to, too and two; your, you're and yore, or use the word "anyways", I'm going to think you're an inbecile. Don't get me wrong- I'd probably still date you, but secretly I'd think you were a bit of a moron. A rocket scientist I am not, but I pride myself on having a pretty strong command of the English language...especially those words we learned in grade school. The Southern Gentleman was a writer, as well....and his artistic side (his way with both the spoken and written word) attracted me.
After our second date he continued to call and text me. He'd already asked me out again, and I accepted. As we tried to coordinate our schedules, we stayed in touch...well, apparently he stayed in touch...and I either answered my phone when he called, or returned his text. The last time I spoke to him was the day before Valentine's Day...when he called to wish me a Happy Lesbian Valentine's Day...I'd told him I had plans with LL for a girls only Valentine's celebration, which I joking referred to as my Lesbian Valentine's Day. We chatted for a while, and he mentioned getting together in the upcoming week. I told him I was looking forward to that. To which he replied, "You are?", seemingly surprised. Why else would I be answering his calls, engaging in witty banter and returning his texts? He did mention that I could call him too...that his phone rings also. I responded with feigned surprise, "Oh, it does? Okay, good to know".
I texted him the next day to wish him a Happy Valentine's Day...and he texted me the same back. Everything seemed on course...on course for what, I suppose, was the question. I called him 2 days later on my way home from work...got his voicemail and left him a message. And he never called me back. I began to question whether he got the message, if perhaps there was some technical difficulty with the phone service that I was unaware of, maybe I was in a dead zone on the turnpike and the call was dropped without me realizing it and I actually never did leave the message. As I reviewed these possbilities with a friend, he interrupted me and asked what movie I'd seen the other night. I didn't know why he was changing the subject mid- dating analysis...especially since I'd already told him what movie I'd seen...isn't he paying attention when I'm talking incessantly about myself? ...and I thought it was quite rude, actually, but I reminded him, "I saw 'He's Just Not That Into You'". Okay, my friend. Touche. But, that can't be the case here...he was texting and calling and talking about going out again. Clearly he was smitten with me...why would he not return my call? How could he suddenly just not be that into me? Impossible. "Something terrible must have happened to him", I reasoned.
Now, I am not the stalker type. I'm more of the "silent treatment" type. I'm the one who's going to disappear, to run away, to not respond...I maintain that control, that power. I was going to just let it go. I've had plenty of experience in the dating game, I know these things do happen. As unfathomable as it may seem, it is possble that a guy may not be interested in me. It's a crazy world. I let a few days pass, but I couldn't let it go. This one just wasn't adding up for me. He wasn't cocky, or obnoxious or a schmuck....he seemed sweet, sincere, honest. Did I mention that I am perhaps the worst judge of character on the planet? Just clueless.
Still, I thought there must be some misunderstandng. Maybe he thought I just wasn't that into him so he backed away...very far away. Maybe I intimidated him with my stunning beauty, challenging intellect and dazzling personality? After all, I am clearly a triple threat, apparently too much for the common man to handle. I suppose this is helping me weed them out, because I sure don't want a common man. It seems I am quite Darwinian. Or, maybe I scared him away with what sometimes unintentionally comes off as a sarcastic aloofness? I just couldn't figure it out. And I wanted answers. Dammit!
So, I decided to communicate the way I know best...I wrote him an email. When I was almost done composing it, I thought, "This is silly. I'm just going to give him a call!" So, in a bold, uncharactreistic move...I dialed his number. He didn't answer. It went to voicemail. I hung up. Damn. Okay, this guy really does not want to talk to me! Did I do something that I don't remember? Perhaps I drunk dialed him one night and told him I nicknamed him "Country Bumpkin" after our second date, and he took it the wrong way? I checked my call log. Nothing. So, still no explanation. And now I couldn't send the email. Two calls AND an email? Does that a stalker make? I thought it might be borderline. So I deleted the email and went to bed.
I confessed to my friend that I made the second unanswered call. He promptly forbade me (again) to make any more contact. Granted, at this stage in the game, I wasn't interested in dating the guy anymore....clearly, this bizarre behavior is not in line with the character of a man I want to date...I just wanted to know what happened. I wanted answers. And maybe, just a little bit, I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. So, the day after he dodged that second and final phone call, I composed and emailed the following:
"I was just compelled to write- even though you didn't return my call, for a reason that is unbeknownst to me. Don't worry, I'm not the stalking type (although maybe some would say that this very email does not support that claim! :). But, I can assure you, I won't be contacting you again, nor will I come to your house and re-arrange your furniture and throw away half of your things.
I just can not for the life of me understand why you didn't return my call. Maybe you decided that you didn't like me, maybe you fell in love with someone else during the week since I last saw you, went back with your ex, or thought I really was a swinging Lesbian?!? I don't know. I know from past and, I guess, present experience that I am not the best judge of character. But you seemed like such a sweet, genuine guy...I'm actually wondering if you got run over by a bus or dropped a weight on your foot, which is somehow preventing you from phone usage. But, I did see the movie last week, so I guess, as shocking as it may seem, you're "just not that into me"!
Well, I hope you're not in a full-body cast (which I'm assuming you must be) and that you actually are physically okay...and it would be great, and I'd really appreciate it, if you would just shoot me an email and tell me: "You're too short for me, your name is too long and I got sick of texting all those letters, I decided you're not my favorite Italian, I just came out of the closet so I'm not into women anymore".... Because, what kind of a man just disappears like that? Probably the kind who wouldn't reply to this email. I wish you the best."
He did not respond to my email. He must be dead.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Doctors, Lawyers and Potheads- Oh My!
I've been back in the dating game for about 8 months now...amazing how time flies. I've gone on dates with a multitude of men during this time, and the three that stand out are The Doctor, The Lawyer and The Pothead...my favorite of which was The Pothead. The Pothead and I shared a great, intense romance over the course of about 5 magical late summer weeks. From the first date we were smitten with one other. We saw each other often...we drank and ate and kissed our way through many glorious evenings. Our short lived relationship was quite intense...I spent many hours over numerous dinners and bottles of wine staring into his blue green eyes, both of us with silly grins on our faces...smiles of happiness and excitement and wondering, "Could this be The One?".
Maybe I should have heeded the red flag I saw begin to wave when he fondly referenced "camp" as the best time in his life, and when he told me he still has a tight knit group of "camp friends". It always concerns me when a guy references his college days...or a time long since passed, as the best time of his life...to me it implies that he wishes he was back there...living the college, or camp, lifestyle. Peter Pan I do not want. But I turned a blind eye and our romance continued... I mean, a guy who loved camp couldn't be all that bad... "so, he's nostalgic", I rationalized.
When you are dating for any length of time, there's only so many dinners you can go out to. Sometimes you just want to be at home, on the couch, in your cargo shorts, with your feet up on the coffee table, eating Chinese food and watching movies. It's just the natural progression of things. What I especially liked about The Pothead was that he never really tried to get into my pants. Sure, after a few hours of making out on the couch, he would ask me to sleep over, which I always declined. But he never pushed, or groped, or did anything beyond kissing me. I liked it. Little did I realize he was probably just too high to do anything more.
What ever happened to waiting? I don't know who made up the three date rule, but it's not part of my rule book. I want to savor and prolong that courtship phase...where you're enthralled and enraptured in the anticipation of what's to come. Whereas, in most aspects of my life I want instant gratifcation (eating, drinking, shopping), this is the one thing where I want, and insist upon, delayed gratification. I want to give it time...time to fantasize and look forward to....I'm just not into the wham, bam, third date thank you, ma'am. So, any guy that's on that agenda is just wasting both of our time and his money.
But The Pothead seemed to be okay with just kissing for hours on end. I don't think we ever even got to second base. And it just made me like him more- a guy who was okay with taking things this slowly seemed a rare treasure. Everything was going along swimmingly...until one fateful evening.
In another effort to impress me, my summer romance cooked dinner for me...shrimp cocktail and filet mignon...and of course, Pinot Noir. Clearly, he knew the way to my heart. There was candlelight, medium rare meat and wine...I was a happy girl. I was secretly contemplating locations for our oceanside Love Ceremony with every tender bite...until the conversation took a turn. Maybe it was my discovery of his affinity for the Grateful Dead that made me ask him if he used to smoke a lot of weed. He replied by nodding emphatically. Which led me to my next question, "Do you still smoke?" Again, emphatic nodding. My face fell. To the ground. And he saw it hit the carpet. The Face doesn't hide much. It was then that I knew the dinner, and the budding relationship, were over. If my doctor brother had been there he could have called the TOD at that very moment, as we sat on the couch, The Pothead still nodding....as he would be, for life.
We really did enjoy each others company...we had the attraction, the chemistry, the spark. And neither of us quite wanted to let it go. So, in the few weeks ensuing that fateful night we continuted to see each other, and had numerous conversations about his pot usage...about him cutting down, about smoking vs. drinking, about how he didn't want to lose me. But, from the moment he started nodding his head, I knew that no amount of "cutting down" would work for me....unless it was cut down to zero. And let's face it, as naive as I am, I know a 38 year old pothead is not "cutting down"...and certainly not to zero....even for a woman as gorgeous, captivating and as good a kisser as me. I knew it just wasn't realistic, or possible. And I knew his smoking was not acceptable to me.
Would I never have another drink if the man of my dreams asked me not to? Good question. That's a bridge I'll cross if I ever get to it. I do miss The Pothead, though. Why coulnd't he just have been a wino like me?
Maybe I should have heeded the red flag I saw begin to wave when he fondly referenced "camp" as the best time in his life, and when he told me he still has a tight knit group of "camp friends". It always concerns me when a guy references his college days...or a time long since passed, as the best time of his life...to me it implies that he wishes he was back there...living the college, or camp, lifestyle. Peter Pan I do not want. But I turned a blind eye and our romance continued... I mean, a guy who loved camp couldn't be all that bad... "so, he's nostalgic", I rationalized.
When you are dating for any length of time, there's only so many dinners you can go out to. Sometimes you just want to be at home, on the couch, in your cargo shorts, with your feet up on the coffee table, eating Chinese food and watching movies. It's just the natural progression of things. What I especially liked about The Pothead was that he never really tried to get into my pants. Sure, after a few hours of making out on the couch, he would ask me to sleep over, which I always declined. But he never pushed, or groped, or did anything beyond kissing me. I liked it. Little did I realize he was probably just too high to do anything more.
What ever happened to waiting? I don't know who made up the three date rule, but it's not part of my rule book. I want to savor and prolong that courtship phase...where you're enthralled and enraptured in the anticipation of what's to come. Whereas, in most aspects of my life I want instant gratifcation (eating, drinking, shopping), this is the one thing where I want, and insist upon, delayed gratification. I want to give it time...time to fantasize and look forward to....I'm just not into the wham, bam, third date thank you, ma'am. So, any guy that's on that agenda is just wasting both of our time and his money.
But The Pothead seemed to be okay with just kissing for hours on end. I don't think we ever even got to second base. And it just made me like him more- a guy who was okay with taking things this slowly seemed a rare treasure. Everything was going along swimmingly...until one fateful evening.
In another effort to impress me, my summer romance cooked dinner for me...shrimp cocktail and filet mignon...and of course, Pinot Noir. Clearly, he knew the way to my heart. There was candlelight, medium rare meat and wine...I was a happy girl. I was secretly contemplating locations for our oceanside Love Ceremony with every tender bite...until the conversation took a turn. Maybe it was my discovery of his affinity for the Grateful Dead that made me ask him if he used to smoke a lot of weed. He replied by nodding emphatically. Which led me to my next question, "Do you still smoke?" Again, emphatic nodding. My face fell. To the ground. And he saw it hit the carpet. The Face doesn't hide much. It was then that I knew the dinner, and the budding relationship, were over. If my doctor brother had been there he could have called the TOD at that very moment, as we sat on the couch, The Pothead still nodding....as he would be, for life.
We really did enjoy each others company...we had the attraction, the chemistry, the spark. And neither of us quite wanted to let it go. So, in the few weeks ensuing that fateful night we continuted to see each other, and had numerous conversations about his pot usage...about him cutting down, about smoking vs. drinking, about how he didn't want to lose me. But, from the moment he started nodding his head, I knew that no amount of "cutting down" would work for me....unless it was cut down to zero. And let's face it, as naive as I am, I know a 38 year old pothead is not "cutting down"...and certainly not to zero....even for a woman as gorgeous, captivating and as good a kisser as me. I knew it just wasn't realistic, or possible. And I knew his smoking was not acceptable to me.
Would I never have another drink if the man of my dreams asked me not to? Good question. That's a bridge I'll cross if I ever get to it. I do miss The Pothead, though. Why coulnd't he just have been a wino like me?
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Why Do I Only Like The Bad Ones?
Had a second date with Southern Gentleman….I’m changing his name to Country Bumpkin….last night he seemed a lot more “country” than he did on our first date. Maybe it was the country music he played in the car (which he told me he’d have me liking by the end of the night), or the fact that he told me he had a really “country” middle name, Earl ! (which he made me guess) …I actually got it on the second guess, after Harlan. Maybe it was the fact the he looked so completely disheveled…his jeans and shirt were so wrinkled…he must have forgotten them in the dryer overnight, and decided to just put them on anyway….it was comical…but I didn’t take it in an “I don’t give a shit” way…clearly, it was not that, but rather in an “I really wanted to iron these clothes but when I turned the iron on it was broken and all my other clothes were dirty” kinda way. I don’t know what happened to his khakis and black shirt look from last time?!? Maybe it was his old Toyota Camry or his Timberland shoe booties…but the 10 years he spent in New York City seemed to have disappeared into thin air. This is a man who spackles and is sanding his own deck….not that there’s anything wrong with that.
We had good conversation at dinner (apparently I’m a pro at this)…although we acknowledged how we were again talking about his ex…breaking cardinal dating rule #1. He told me he took his profile down from Match (which I’d noticed)…b/c he was getting tired of all the crazy girls emailing him. Of course, I took that to mean he was so smitten with me he was looking for no other. He is very handsome…I just needed to strip him down and dress him back up…and infuse him with an obnoxious NY Jew attitude of complete self-absorbtion, arrogance, cockiness and undeserved bravado...then maybe I would have been more drawn to him. You can take the Stupid B---- out of Boca, but you can’t take the Boca out of the Stupid B----. But, instead of possessing those characteristics and qualities that unfailingly attract me, he remembered exactly how many homes I have left to sell in my community…which I’m sure I mentioned only once the last time we’d met, he recalled my only day off is Friday, he asked me my last name and when my birthday is, and told me he wants to know more about me, so why are we talking all about him? (Because I’m good at asking questions). The nerve of this guy!
We went to the movies and there was NO physical contact….he didn’t try to hold my hand or touch my leg, or do the reach around (which is impossible in those tall seats anyway)…however, when I asked him where he wanted to sit, as I was climbing up the theater stairs…he did say he wanted to sit in the back so we could make out (I guess this is a standard movie-going line these days?)…I laughed and kept walking up the stairs….I think he got nervous that I was going to take him up on that because he said he was just kidding…so I stopped climbing and picked a seat. I think he’s a little afraid of me.
The movie was action packed and I was totally into it- I felt his eyes on me and turned towards him…he was smiling/laughing and I asked him why he was laughing at me…he said he was “just looking”. Ah ha! I think Country Bumpkin is in love. When we exited the theater it was quite cold and my Bumpkin Gentleman offered me his coat….I told him I was okay, and with his sarcastic humor he said something about being glad he didn’t have to unzip it…. He opened my car door, and he made a point, as we walked from car to restaurant to car to movie theater, to always walk on the street side of me…to protect me from any potentially wayward cars hopping the curb and plowing me down. It was sweet.
On the way home, I thanked him for the dinner and movie date….he said, “Date? That’s a very formal word.” I re-phrased and said thanks for dinner and the movie. He said he’s never had anyone use the word “date” in the actual thank you on the date. I reminded him (as he’d pointed out to me on our first date) that I have my own unique style and way of saying things. As the country tunes played on the radio, I teased him… asking if he sits on his back porch with his dog drinking diet coke and crying about his broken down pick up truck and ex-girlfriends….he called me on rolling my eyes again and being “unique”…he seems to like "unique". We got to my place and he asked me to wait as he got out of the car to open my door for me. As soon as I stood up he asked me with great anticipation in his bright green eyes and hopeful smile, “Wanna go out again?”, with what struck me as the excitement and hopefulness of a little boy…..I told him, "Yes", and he bent down to hug me. As I put the key in my door and he was getting back into his car, he looked over at me and asked, “You’re not just saying that, are you?” I scrunched up my face and shook my head to convey, “No, of course not”….but I’m not really sure, myself. I mean, what would I do with a tall, handsome, sweet, educated, thoughtful, well-mannered guy who makes me want to say, “Hey, wanna come over and we can make pasta, watch a movie and hang out?” What good could ever come of that?
We had good conversation at dinner (apparently I’m a pro at this)…although we acknowledged how we were again talking about his ex…breaking cardinal dating rule #1. He told me he took his profile down from Match (which I’d noticed)…b/c he was getting tired of all the crazy girls emailing him. Of course, I took that to mean he was so smitten with me he was looking for no other. He is very handsome…I just needed to strip him down and dress him back up…and infuse him with an obnoxious NY Jew attitude of complete self-absorbtion, arrogance, cockiness and undeserved bravado...then maybe I would have been more drawn to him. You can take the Stupid B---- out of Boca, but you can’t take the Boca out of the Stupid B----. But, instead of possessing those characteristics and qualities that unfailingly attract me, he remembered exactly how many homes I have left to sell in my community…which I’m sure I mentioned only once the last time we’d met, he recalled my only day off is Friday, he asked me my last name and when my birthday is, and told me he wants to know more about me, so why are we talking all about him? (Because I’m good at asking questions). The nerve of this guy!
We went to the movies and there was NO physical contact….he didn’t try to hold my hand or touch my leg, or do the reach around (which is impossible in those tall seats anyway)…however, when I asked him where he wanted to sit, as I was climbing up the theater stairs…he did say he wanted to sit in the back so we could make out (I guess this is a standard movie-going line these days?)…I laughed and kept walking up the stairs….I think he got nervous that I was going to take him up on that because he said he was just kidding…so I stopped climbing and picked a seat. I think he’s a little afraid of me.
The movie was action packed and I was totally into it- I felt his eyes on me and turned towards him…he was smiling/laughing and I asked him why he was laughing at me…he said he was “just looking”. Ah ha! I think Country Bumpkin is in love. When we exited the theater it was quite cold and my Bumpkin Gentleman offered me his coat….I told him I was okay, and with his sarcastic humor he said something about being glad he didn’t have to unzip it…. He opened my car door, and he made a point, as we walked from car to restaurant to car to movie theater, to always walk on the street side of me…to protect me from any potentially wayward cars hopping the curb and plowing me down. It was sweet.
On the way home, I thanked him for the dinner and movie date….he said, “Date? That’s a very formal word.” I re-phrased and said thanks for dinner and the movie. He said he’s never had anyone use the word “date” in the actual thank you on the date. I reminded him (as he’d pointed out to me on our first date) that I have my own unique style and way of saying things. As the country tunes played on the radio, I teased him… asking if he sits on his back porch with his dog drinking diet coke and crying about his broken down pick up truck and ex-girlfriends….he called me on rolling my eyes again and being “unique”…he seems to like "unique". We got to my place and he asked me to wait as he got out of the car to open my door for me. As soon as I stood up he asked me with great anticipation in his bright green eyes and hopeful smile, “Wanna go out again?”, with what struck me as the excitement and hopefulness of a little boy…..I told him, "Yes", and he bent down to hug me. As I put the key in my door and he was getting back into his car, he looked over at me and asked, “You’re not just saying that, are you?” I scrunched up my face and shook my head to convey, “No, of course not”….but I’m not really sure, myself. I mean, what would I do with a tall, handsome, sweet, educated, thoughtful, well-mannered guy who makes me want to say, “Hey, wanna come over and we can make pasta, watch a movie and hang out?” What good could ever come of that?
Southern Gentleman
Uh oh, I fell in love with another man last night.
My Southern Gentleman didn’t quite look like his pictures (yet another online date…is there any other way to meet people these days?)…he looked about a thousand times better…he shocked and (pleasantly) surprised me with his huge, sparkling green eyes and killer smile…something about his uneven teeth making them the sexiest ones I’d ever seen. We both exchanged smiles (probably of relief and excitement) as I approached him at the bar and he bent down from his 6’3” stature to hug me hello. Things got off to a good start when the bartender actually carded me for my glass of wine…which I found quite comical, but quite nice! And I commented, “Wow, I must really look good tonight!”
Southern Gentleman told me he reserved a table for us…so, we settled into a too brightly lit booth and talked and talked and talked. It was when we sat down that he commented that I do look like my pix…I guess the dim light of the bar didn’t highlight the extent of my gorgeousness, as it was portrayed online….I told him that he looks very different from his pix…he said he’s not a fan of himself in pictures and he actually doesn’t have very many of himself. The fact of the matter was, I felt completely mesmerized by and somewhat giddy from his good looks…like I didn’t want to take my eyes off of him for long enough to figure out that I wanted the crab cakes, because he was just so handsome… it was one of those times where I was simply compelled to tell this guy how gorgeous he was….but I toned it down a bit, and instead of leaping across the table and onto his lap, I just told him he should have more pictures of himself because he’s very handsome.
The waitress kept coming over to take our order, but even though our eyes had perused the menu, we hadn’t actually read anything….which he admitted to me…I asked him if he needed me to read it to him, but he assured me that he COULD read (good sense of humor- check). We settled on the artichoke appetizer, he had pecan trout and I went for the crab cakes…usually hard to go wrong with those.
As soon as they served us the artichoke, they brought us our entrees too. Of course, I found this completely unacceptable, which apparently my tell-tale face conveyed. When I looked at the food runner in horror and disgust, she sheepishly and stupidly asked if it was okay or did we want her to take the food back? Trying not to be a total difficult Boca bitch, I deflected to Southern Gentleman who, of course, said he didn’t have a problem with it (made me think of my soon-to-be brother-in-law)….so the entrees sat there for a few minutes getting cold until our waitress stopped over and, seeing the completely unacceptable faux pas, apologized emphatically and sincerely and insisted on taking the entrees away and bringing back new ones at the actual appropriate time. Thank you very much.
However, my tell-tale face didn’t get by Southern Gentleman…and he told me I looked mean! “I looked mean?”, I inquired….he said, “Yes”. Well, I guess extreme stupidity aggravates me and The Face oftentimes does what The Face wants to do. The waitress only validated The Face when she insisted on taking away the food, apologizing endlessly…if you’re going to be a server, serve the food properly, is all I’m saying.
The conversation flowed as we traded stories of past relationships (isn’t that one of the subjects you’re NOT supposed to talk about on a first date?)…and I regaled him with my extremely detailed stories of my loves past…I apologized for the overabundance of details (which of course is my specialty), and he said he likes the details. Good answer Southern Gentleman. He offered me some of his pecan trout, which was quite tasty…and I shared my crab cakes with him…which were heavy on the crab, light on the cake…just how you want them to be…details, details…
We discussed that we’re both writers and painters….or, more accurately, that we both aspire to write more and actually put a paint brush to canvas. I suggested we carve out some time and do it together. Apparently, I felt very comfortable, confident, in control. I love it when I feel like that.
After Southern Gentleman helped me polish off my crab cakes, the waitress asked if we wanted dessert…we both enthusiastically said yes…I think in part because we really wanted to eat dessert, in part because we didn’t want the night to end. So, we ordered a huge hunk of Key Lime Pie…Houston’s has the best I’ve ever had…super tart key limey-ness and a delicious thick and chunky graham cracker crust…my mouth is watering just thinking about it. Southern Gentleman asked me if I like ice cream…what kind of question is that? ...and he ordered a scoop on the side. This guy just keeps getting better and better.
He is college educated, and he'd worked in some obscure profession that I didn't comprehend (I think he may have made it up, actually), but his primary profession at the moment is personal training…says he can make more money doing that 10 hours a week than working for someone else 10 hours a day. I blatantly tell him I don’t know what kind of PT he is, but I think if I hired him I’d gain 10 pounds!...or maybe that’s just if I continue dating him.
We’re about half way through the pie…and I was clearly slowing down…to the point where I actually put the fork down and sat back…he looked at me and asked, “You’re not done, are you?” I assured him I was just resting…and then we dug back in. With 2 bites left on the plate and both of our forks down…my heart beating fast from the wine (only 1 glass) and sugar rush, he said he has a thing about leaving food on the plate…I said, "I do too"…then we polished it off.
I could actually feel the googley eyed grin fixated across my face (I think it was there from the moment I laid eyes on him), which also seemed to be reflected back at me, because I kept catching glimpses of those sexy, uneven teeth. He asked me why I was laughing…I told him I wasn’t laughing, I was smiling. Can't a girl just look and smile? He paid the check, after looking at me in utter dismay upon my offering to contribute…and then he asked if I wanted another drink or a coffee. He wasn’t drinking… said he rarely drinks…I asked if he does so only on special occasions…and then gave him a hard time about this not being such an occassion? He said it absolutely was, which is why he wanted to stay completely lucid,…but then followed it up by letting me know he had a few drinks before leaving the house….clearly, he was kidding….his sense of humor definitely translated from his written word to his spoken words. Handsome, articulate, sense of humor…check, check, check.
Apparently during one of my storytelling episodes I rolled my eyes (no idea what I was saying that brought that on…but really, anything can trigger it)…and he asked me, “Did you just roll your eyes?” I told him, “Yeah, probably, I’ve been doing that since kindergarten”. I loved the fact that he: a) noticed that I did that and b) totally called me on it. Southern Gentleman may have picked up a little NY edge…perhaps from living in Bay Ridge for many years after falling in love with a Brooklyn girl in college in SC and moving “home” with her. Small world. Shortly thereafter he asked me if I’d “just whined”…and in an extremely whiney voice I asked, “I don’t know, did I?” Either he totally got my sense of humor and/or found me comical, or he thought I was just cute enough to let it slide…or maybe he likes whiney, eye-rolling, JAP looking Italian Jews from Brooklyn….maybe all of the above?
Southern Gentleman offered to walk me to my car as we exited the restaurant….I said “Oh, that would be great”…to which he replied, “You have a funny way of saying things”. I asked him what he meant, and he said I sounded incredibly sarcastic. I laughed and told him I was completely sincere…which I was. We told each other we had a great time and he promptly asked me if I’d like to go out again. I, quite sincerely, told him that I absolutely would. He asked if I like movies…I told him I do…and I asked him if he wanted to go see one…now. I never know when enough is enough. He asked if I was serious…I paused for effect and said, “Yes”. He looked at his watch, it was 9:45…then I asked…how are we going to go to a movie?…we don’t even know what’s playing or when…he said he’s pretty resourceful…but that plan fell apart as quickly as it came together and we decided to wait until next time. We finally exchanged numbers (I told him earlier that I found it unusual that he’d never asked for mine…apparently he thought it was my place to offer the number)…must be a Southern thing? We said our goodbyes, he bent down to hug me…I texted him when I got home telling him I had a great time. He responded with the following: “Me too…one of the best dates I’ve been on. Great 2 finally see u in person”…and then he emailed me some of his writing….which was really good…very detailed and descriptive…kind of like mine.
My Southern Gentleman didn’t quite look like his pictures (yet another online date…is there any other way to meet people these days?)…he looked about a thousand times better…he shocked and (pleasantly) surprised me with his huge, sparkling green eyes and killer smile…something about his uneven teeth making them the sexiest ones I’d ever seen. We both exchanged smiles (probably of relief and excitement) as I approached him at the bar and he bent down from his 6’3” stature to hug me hello. Things got off to a good start when the bartender actually carded me for my glass of wine…which I found quite comical, but quite nice! And I commented, “Wow, I must really look good tonight!”
Southern Gentleman told me he reserved a table for us…so, we settled into a too brightly lit booth and talked and talked and talked. It was when we sat down that he commented that I do look like my pix…I guess the dim light of the bar didn’t highlight the extent of my gorgeousness, as it was portrayed online….I told him that he looks very different from his pix…he said he’s not a fan of himself in pictures and he actually doesn’t have very many of himself. The fact of the matter was, I felt completely mesmerized by and somewhat giddy from his good looks…like I didn’t want to take my eyes off of him for long enough to figure out that I wanted the crab cakes, because he was just so handsome… it was one of those times where I was simply compelled to tell this guy how gorgeous he was….but I toned it down a bit, and instead of leaping across the table and onto his lap, I just told him he should have more pictures of himself because he’s very handsome.
The waitress kept coming over to take our order, but even though our eyes had perused the menu, we hadn’t actually read anything….which he admitted to me…I asked him if he needed me to read it to him, but he assured me that he COULD read (good sense of humor- check). We settled on the artichoke appetizer, he had pecan trout and I went for the crab cakes…usually hard to go wrong with those.
As soon as they served us the artichoke, they brought us our entrees too. Of course, I found this completely unacceptable, which apparently my tell-tale face conveyed. When I looked at the food runner in horror and disgust, she sheepishly and stupidly asked if it was okay or did we want her to take the food back? Trying not to be a total difficult Boca bitch, I deflected to Southern Gentleman who, of course, said he didn’t have a problem with it (made me think of my soon-to-be brother-in-law)….so the entrees sat there for a few minutes getting cold until our waitress stopped over and, seeing the completely unacceptable faux pas, apologized emphatically and sincerely and insisted on taking the entrees away and bringing back new ones at the actual appropriate time. Thank you very much.
However, my tell-tale face didn’t get by Southern Gentleman…and he told me I looked mean! “I looked mean?”, I inquired….he said, “Yes”. Well, I guess extreme stupidity aggravates me and The Face oftentimes does what The Face wants to do. The waitress only validated The Face when she insisted on taking away the food, apologizing endlessly…if you’re going to be a server, serve the food properly, is all I’m saying.
The conversation flowed as we traded stories of past relationships (isn’t that one of the subjects you’re NOT supposed to talk about on a first date?)…and I regaled him with my extremely detailed stories of my loves past…I apologized for the overabundance of details (which of course is my specialty), and he said he likes the details. Good answer Southern Gentleman. He offered me some of his pecan trout, which was quite tasty…and I shared my crab cakes with him…which were heavy on the crab, light on the cake…just how you want them to be…details, details…
We discussed that we’re both writers and painters….or, more accurately, that we both aspire to write more and actually put a paint brush to canvas. I suggested we carve out some time and do it together. Apparently, I felt very comfortable, confident, in control. I love it when I feel like that.
After Southern Gentleman helped me polish off my crab cakes, the waitress asked if we wanted dessert…we both enthusiastically said yes…I think in part because we really wanted to eat dessert, in part because we didn’t want the night to end. So, we ordered a huge hunk of Key Lime Pie…Houston’s has the best I’ve ever had…super tart key limey-ness and a delicious thick and chunky graham cracker crust…my mouth is watering just thinking about it. Southern Gentleman asked me if I like ice cream…what kind of question is that? ...and he ordered a scoop on the side. This guy just keeps getting better and better.
He is college educated, and he'd worked in some obscure profession that I didn't comprehend (I think he may have made it up, actually), but his primary profession at the moment is personal training…says he can make more money doing that 10 hours a week than working for someone else 10 hours a day. I blatantly tell him I don’t know what kind of PT he is, but I think if I hired him I’d gain 10 pounds!...or maybe that’s just if I continue dating him.
We’re about half way through the pie…and I was clearly slowing down…to the point where I actually put the fork down and sat back…he looked at me and asked, “You’re not done, are you?” I assured him I was just resting…and then we dug back in. With 2 bites left on the plate and both of our forks down…my heart beating fast from the wine (only 1 glass) and sugar rush, he said he has a thing about leaving food on the plate…I said, "I do too"…then we polished it off.
I could actually feel the googley eyed grin fixated across my face (I think it was there from the moment I laid eyes on him), which also seemed to be reflected back at me, because I kept catching glimpses of those sexy, uneven teeth. He asked me why I was laughing…I told him I wasn’t laughing, I was smiling. Can't a girl just look and smile? He paid the check, after looking at me in utter dismay upon my offering to contribute…and then he asked if I wanted another drink or a coffee. He wasn’t drinking… said he rarely drinks…I asked if he does so only on special occasions…and then gave him a hard time about this not being such an occassion? He said it absolutely was, which is why he wanted to stay completely lucid,…but then followed it up by letting me know he had a few drinks before leaving the house….clearly, he was kidding….his sense of humor definitely translated from his written word to his spoken words. Handsome, articulate, sense of humor…check, check, check.
Apparently during one of my storytelling episodes I rolled my eyes (no idea what I was saying that brought that on…but really, anything can trigger it)…and he asked me, “Did you just roll your eyes?” I told him, “Yeah, probably, I’ve been doing that since kindergarten”. I loved the fact that he: a) noticed that I did that and b) totally called me on it. Southern Gentleman may have picked up a little NY edge…perhaps from living in Bay Ridge for many years after falling in love with a Brooklyn girl in college in SC and moving “home” with her. Small world. Shortly thereafter he asked me if I’d “just whined”…and in an extremely whiney voice I asked, “I don’t know, did I?” Either he totally got my sense of humor and/or found me comical, or he thought I was just cute enough to let it slide…or maybe he likes whiney, eye-rolling, JAP looking Italian Jews from Brooklyn….maybe all of the above?
Southern Gentleman offered to walk me to my car as we exited the restaurant….I said “Oh, that would be great”…to which he replied, “You have a funny way of saying things”. I asked him what he meant, and he said I sounded incredibly sarcastic. I laughed and told him I was completely sincere…which I was. We told each other we had a great time and he promptly asked me if I’d like to go out again. I, quite sincerely, told him that I absolutely would. He asked if I like movies…I told him I do…and I asked him if he wanted to go see one…now. I never know when enough is enough. He asked if I was serious…I paused for effect and said, “Yes”. He looked at his watch, it was 9:45…then I asked…how are we going to go to a movie?…we don’t even know what’s playing or when…he said he’s pretty resourceful…but that plan fell apart as quickly as it came together and we decided to wait until next time. We finally exchanged numbers (I told him earlier that I found it unusual that he’d never asked for mine…apparently he thought it was my place to offer the number)…must be a Southern thing? We said our goodbyes, he bent down to hug me…I texted him when I got home telling him I had a great time. He responded with the following: “Me too…one of the best dates I’ve been on. Great 2 finally see u in person”…and then he emailed me some of his writing….which was really good…very detailed and descriptive…kind of like mine.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
When Did Common Courtesy Become Completely Uncommon?
I've been actively in the dating scene for the better part of the past ten years. And it seems to be getting more challenging with each passing year, because people are getting progressively crazier. I live in a place where there is an overabundance of plastic people (both physically and emotionally) who are obsessed with material possessions. Granted, it can be easy to get caught up in the Ferraris, Fendis and filets....but it seems that somewhere along the way, as everyone has been lengthening their ever growing checklists of what they're looking for in a mate, they have forgotten that "shopping" for a boyfriend or girlfriend, or potentially a husband or a wife, is not the same as shopping for the lastest Louboutins at Saks.
Sometimes, in an overzealous shopping spree, we'll return home with more bags than we should have. And when the rush wears off and we come down from that endorphin high, we experience the dreaded buyer's remorse. When this occurs, we can easily jump into our German engineered cars and take our happy little asses back to the mall to return the unwanted items...return the merchandise...get rid of the goods. The acquisition of those material objects gave us our high, they served their purpose, and now we can simply get rid of them, and get our money back. Nothing's lost.
It seems that people have adopted this methodology in the dating game. You meet someone new, they're attractive, you feel the rush, the high, the excitement. You want them. You have a connection, it seems like a good fit. You go on two dates, three dates, twelve dates, you talk repeatedly about having a "Love Ceremony", at which you will pledge your undying love to one another with absolutely no legal ties (should one of you wake up one day and decide to leave...no messy divorce needed...just walk away), and then maybe for one of the pair the high wears off, and suddenly, without warning, you have been returned. Unbeknownst to you, you have suddenly become returned merchandise, an unwanted item, discarded goods.
What the players in the dating game don't seem to realize is that people are not purses. When did it become okay to treat people as inanimate objects? When did it become okay to disappear with no explanation? To simply not call back...ever? I know, I know, the unreturned call or text or email means "he's just not that into you", and you're supposed to just move on. I read the book. I saw the movie. I get it. With men (and, I suppose, women), like buses and trains, another one will come along in a few minutes...so no need to fret about missing the one that just whizzed by. But, that's not the point. I am not at a loss for dates. I could easily be wined and dined by a different common man each night of the week. There is no one man that I am lamenting in this semi-tirade. I guess I'm lamenting the fact that people have seemingly lost respect for themselves, and therefore have no idea how to treat others with respect, or even with common courtesy. People have dropped the courtesy altogether, and have just become common. I need someone a little- no, A LOT, less common.
Sometimes, in an overzealous shopping spree, we'll return home with more bags than we should have. And when the rush wears off and we come down from that endorphin high, we experience the dreaded buyer's remorse. When this occurs, we can easily jump into our German engineered cars and take our happy little asses back to the mall to return the unwanted items...return the merchandise...get rid of the goods. The acquisition of those material objects gave us our high, they served their purpose, and now we can simply get rid of them, and get our money back. Nothing's lost.
It seems that people have adopted this methodology in the dating game. You meet someone new, they're attractive, you feel the rush, the high, the excitement. You want them. You have a connection, it seems like a good fit. You go on two dates, three dates, twelve dates, you talk repeatedly about having a "Love Ceremony", at which you will pledge your undying love to one another with absolutely no legal ties (should one of you wake up one day and decide to leave...no messy divorce needed...just walk away), and then maybe for one of the pair the high wears off, and suddenly, without warning, you have been returned. Unbeknownst to you, you have suddenly become returned merchandise, an unwanted item, discarded goods.
What the players in the dating game don't seem to realize is that people are not purses. When did it become okay to treat people as inanimate objects? When did it become okay to disappear with no explanation? To simply not call back...ever? I know, I know, the unreturned call or text or email means "he's just not that into you", and you're supposed to just move on. I read the book. I saw the movie. I get it. With men (and, I suppose, women), like buses and trains, another one will come along in a few minutes...so no need to fret about missing the one that just whizzed by. But, that's not the point. I am not at a loss for dates. I could easily be wined and dined by a different common man each night of the week. There is no one man that I am lamenting in this semi-tirade. I guess I'm lamenting the fact that people have seemingly lost respect for themselves, and therefore have no idea how to treat others with respect, or even with common courtesy. People have dropped the courtesy altogether, and have just become common. I need someone a little- no, A LOT, less common.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Be Careful What You Ask For...
My sister, as she listens to my biological clock (which I have yet to hear) tick away, is on somewhat of a mission to find me a husband. She found what she thought could be "a potential" in a bar in Orlando, and promptly became my long distance matchmaker. After questioning The Potential about his age and marital status (37,divorced), she found him to be a perfect match for me, and told him she has a sister who would be perfect for him. I can only imagine the images and thoughts that must have been going through this guy's mind...of the unattractive, overweight, ugly duckling older sister who has a "good personality" and is "nice". He took my number and told my sister he was going to wait 3 days to call. According to his word, he did.
Three days after my sister excitedly called me telling me to expect a call from The Potential, I'd already written him off, assuming he was too fearful to take a chance on the possibility of the ugly duckling. I was wrong...as usual. He called. We talked. He was polite, articulate, engaging. And had a pretty sexy voice. But there's only so much you can tell from a voice... we needed visuals. He asked if I'd like to exchange photos via email...I enthusiastically accepted, much to what seemed like his extreme delight. I mean, I knew, in all likelihood, that I was in the clear...and upon laying his eyes on my cyber image he'd be head over heels for me. Because not only could my personality never be so blandly and meekly described as "nice", but my looks would never be described as "ugly duckling"...she shed her feathers long ago.
We made plans to meet during my upcoming visit to Orlando to celebrate New Years with my sister, her fiance and friends. It was New Years Day. I was hung over and couldn't have been more tired. When The Potential called at about 5 to confirm our dinner plans, my sister and I reluctantly looked at each other and decided: the show must go on. After all, I was leaving town the next day and this was our opportunity to meet and see if the sparks flew.
After my sister, her fiance, and I peeled ourselves off the couch to get ready, we embarked on an unusual and highly unrecommended experience: a double first date. Before encountering this awkward beast of a foursome, it seemed like it would take the pressure off of the whole situation. We were wrong. It was all about "dinner conversation", as opposed to The Potential and I actually being able to talk with, and get to know, one another. We all had good intentions, but that's a mistake I won't make again. On first dates, I fly solo. The whole experience was neither here nor there. I couldn't tell if the guy had the slightest interest in me. After a foursome of awkward goodbyes in the parking lot, we went our separate ways.
As my sister, her fiance, and I analyzed the night on our way home, The Potential texted me....cute, flirtatious texts that took me by surprise. Then he called and asked me to lunch the next day.
Lunch was a big improvement. We sat and talked, one on one, long after we'd finished eating. Every time it seemed like the conversation was wrapping up, he started on another topic. After two hours ticked away, I decided I needed to hit the road...so I wrapped things up... an unintentional power play.
It was about three in the afternoon when he walked me to my car for the usual awkward goodbyes. The sun was blaring down on us as we told each other what a good time we each had. He told me he really wanted to see me again, but in the same breath referenced, not for the first time, that I live far away. I told him I'd like to see him again too, and that two and a half hours is not THAT far away. He conceded. He gave me a hug...a nice, tight, lingering hug, and asked if he could kiss me. Not sure why it took me by such surprise...I am pretty irresistable. And they don't call me the Kissing Bandit for nothing! "They" meaning "me". So, we kissed. With tongue. In the middle of the parking lot. At 3:30 in the afternoon. With the sun on our faces. Totally sober. Even at 36 life is full of new experiences! Then he kissed me again. And then told me I should get in my car before he didn't let me leave.
And he thought my sister was setting him up with the ugly duckling!
During the last 2 months we've exchanged a few texts and spoken twice after playing ridiculously lengthy games of phone tag. I mean, there's not a lot I have to say to this guy at this point, beyond, "Yeah, I've been working a lot and dating a lot. What have you been up to?" I really don't know him...we had one awkward foursome and one 2 hour lunch that ended with a parking lot lip lock. It's not much to go on...without having more face time. So, when he called me after I hadn't heard from him for...I don't know, maybe 3 weeks that seemed like three years already...I let it go to voicemail. I'm not looking for a pen pal, or a phone friend. Instead of returning his message and embarking on what would have likely become another extended game of anti-climactic phone tag, I decided to take the bull by the horns. I waited two days and texted him, asking when he's coming to visit me...saying that face to face will be a lot more fun than phone tag. He waited the obligatory 2 days and texted back, asking what weekend is best for me. Uh oh. Looks like The Potential is coming to town....
Three days after my sister excitedly called me telling me to expect a call from The Potential, I'd already written him off, assuming he was too fearful to take a chance on the possibility of the ugly duckling. I was wrong...as usual. He called. We talked. He was polite, articulate, engaging. And had a pretty sexy voice. But there's only so much you can tell from a voice... we needed visuals. He asked if I'd like to exchange photos via email...I enthusiastically accepted, much to what seemed like his extreme delight. I mean, I knew, in all likelihood, that I was in the clear...and upon laying his eyes on my cyber image he'd be head over heels for me. Because not only could my personality never be so blandly and meekly described as "nice", but my looks would never be described as "ugly duckling"...she shed her feathers long ago.
We made plans to meet during my upcoming visit to Orlando to celebrate New Years with my sister, her fiance and friends. It was New Years Day. I was hung over and couldn't have been more tired. When The Potential called at about 5 to confirm our dinner plans, my sister and I reluctantly looked at each other and decided: the show must go on. After all, I was leaving town the next day and this was our opportunity to meet and see if the sparks flew.
After my sister, her fiance, and I peeled ourselves off the couch to get ready, we embarked on an unusual and highly unrecommended experience: a double first date. Before encountering this awkward beast of a foursome, it seemed like it would take the pressure off of the whole situation. We were wrong. It was all about "dinner conversation", as opposed to The Potential and I actually being able to talk with, and get to know, one another. We all had good intentions, but that's a mistake I won't make again. On first dates, I fly solo. The whole experience was neither here nor there. I couldn't tell if the guy had the slightest interest in me. After a foursome of awkward goodbyes in the parking lot, we went our separate ways.
As my sister, her fiance, and I analyzed the night on our way home, The Potential texted me....cute, flirtatious texts that took me by surprise. Then he called and asked me to lunch the next day.
Lunch was a big improvement. We sat and talked, one on one, long after we'd finished eating. Every time it seemed like the conversation was wrapping up, he started on another topic. After two hours ticked away, I decided I needed to hit the road...so I wrapped things up... an unintentional power play.
It was about three in the afternoon when he walked me to my car for the usual awkward goodbyes. The sun was blaring down on us as we told each other what a good time we each had. He told me he really wanted to see me again, but in the same breath referenced, not for the first time, that I live far away. I told him I'd like to see him again too, and that two and a half hours is not THAT far away. He conceded. He gave me a hug...a nice, tight, lingering hug, and asked if he could kiss me. Not sure why it took me by such surprise...I am pretty irresistable. And they don't call me the Kissing Bandit for nothing! "They" meaning "me". So, we kissed. With tongue. In the middle of the parking lot. At 3:30 in the afternoon. With the sun on our faces. Totally sober. Even at 36 life is full of new experiences! Then he kissed me again. And then told me I should get in my car before he didn't let me leave.
And he thought my sister was setting him up with the ugly duckling!
During the last 2 months we've exchanged a few texts and spoken twice after playing ridiculously lengthy games of phone tag. I mean, there's not a lot I have to say to this guy at this point, beyond, "Yeah, I've been working a lot and dating a lot. What have you been up to?" I really don't know him...we had one awkward foursome and one 2 hour lunch that ended with a parking lot lip lock. It's not much to go on...without having more face time. So, when he called me after I hadn't heard from him for...I don't know, maybe 3 weeks that seemed like three years already...I let it go to voicemail. I'm not looking for a pen pal, or a phone friend. Instead of returning his message and embarking on what would have likely become another extended game of anti-climactic phone tag, I decided to take the bull by the horns. I waited two days and texted him, asking when he's coming to visit me...saying that face to face will be a lot more fun than phone tag. He waited the obligatory 2 days and texted back, asking what weekend is best for me. Uh oh. Looks like The Potential is coming to town....
Happy Swinging Valentine's Day
My Latin Lover and I had plans for a girls only Valentine’s Day this year…she actually booked me back in January, telling me that no matter who I was dating at the time, I was spending Valentine’s Day with her. Knowing, in all likelihood, that I wouldn’t be dating anyone special at the time, or more likely that I’d be dating someone definitively NOT special, I happily accepted her demand for my company.
Being the overzealous carnivores that we are, we booked a table at one of the premier steak houses in town, where another friend of ours happens to work. My Latin Lover arrived late, as usual…but our table was waiting for us in the corner, at our friend’s station….we ordered drinks and tried to decide what combination of meat and shellfish we would indulge in. The restaurant was packed and buzzing at 9pm…with husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends, fiancés, and me and LL. Of course, by the time we arrived at the restaurant I was buzzing too, as a result of the pre-dinner Pinot I drank ALONE while waiting for my "date" to arrive. You would think by now, after 3 years of friendship, I’d know to lie and tell her she needs to be there 30-45 minutes before I actually want her there…and then maybe she’d make it on time….apparently I’m a slow learner….and a bad liar. It’s not really her fault- she’s Latin, she can’t help it.
After downing a pomegranate martini, then switching back to wine, I decided on the surf and turf…a mini filet and lobster tail with what appeared to be a small swimming pool of melted butter heated by a tea light candle on the side, seemed like the perfect entrée for such a special and happy occasion…the celebration of love. It doesn’t have to be only romantic love that we celebrate on Valentine’s Day….we celebrate love for our friends, our families, our health, for all of the blessings that we sometimes forget to be thankful for as we go whizzing through life, and love of the simple things....like tender, medium rare filet mignon and lobster tail drenched in warm butter….and being able to treat yourself to it and truly enjoy it with friends, even if there is no “significant other” in your life at the time. But I digress…. The wine, food and conversation flowed…dinner was succulent and I enjoyed every bite, the company was fantastic….after all, I was there, and I always do a good job of entertaining myself….this night was no exception.
Three hours passed as if we’d just sat down….if only more of my dates went this way! The next thing I knew, the restaurant had emptied out, with the exception of a few tables…one of which was right next to us….an attractive, buxom blonde and a very, very ugly man. Not sure how it happened, but we started talking…she had a ridiculous name that began with an "A". Upon hearing it, I immediately re-named her Anastasia (which, somehow, seemed less ridiculous at the time) and referred to her as such for the rest of the night….she went along with it…but let’s face it…she really didn’t have a choice at that point….3 to 4 (okay 5) drinks in, I do and say whatever the hell I want.
Anastasia has 3 kids ranging from about 7 to 23, is divorced, and has been dating Ugly Man for about a year and a half. The next thing I know, Anastasia and Ugly Man have joined me and LL at our table. Then the conversation turned to me…how did that happen?? Ugly Man was overtly enthralled and enamored with me, going on and on about how pretty and sexy I was and complimenting me on my great, spunky personality. He ordered me and LL a round of drinks and kept going on about how hot and sexy and gorgeous I was…with his girlfriend sitting right next to me. At the time, it wasn’t quite registering what bizarre behavior this was…after all, being the attention whore that I am, I was just eating it up…and I thought he must just be very astute, and I appreciated him stating the obvious in such a straight forward fashion.
I honestly didn’t realize anything was awry until, all of a sudden, he asked if LL and I were homosexual…or heterosexual…I can’t remember which way he asked the question (darn wine!). It was at that moment that the light bulb must have gotten lit in my little brain…I have no idea how we responded because of all of the Pinot Noir swirling around in my head, but LL and I quickly excused ourselves to go to the bathroom, at which time she informed me that they were swingers and were trying to pick me up to take me home and swing me around (which I do like, but only one on one, and with a man). Tucked away in the bathroom, we were talking about the two whackos at our table and trying to figure out how to ditch them, when suddenly Anastasia peeked her head in. Wide eyed, I said, “Oh, hellooooo”…knowing she must have caught an earful from the other side of the door. The three of us went into our respective stalls, and LL and I waited until the coast was clear to come out. In the meantime, our server/friend was texting me asking what the hell was going on and what was I getting myself into? Naïve and clueless as I am, I had no idea what I was getting myself into…I just like hearing how gorgeous and fantastic I am. I'm such a sucker. We went back into the dining room only to find that the swingers ditched us, and our doggie bags full of lamb shank ravioli (oh, didn’t I mention that?-- to DIE for) and steak were gone! Well, it was just after midnight and the only ones still standing were me, LL and the waitstaff…our night had come to an end….
Why would the fact that I spent Valentine’s Day at a romantic restaurant sharing an extravagant dinner with my friend, who I then took back to my Love Shack, got into my king size bed and ate chocolates with and talked until we passed out, make complete strangers question my sexual orientation? Crazy swingers! I think I might book LL for next year, too…that is, if I don’t have a special man in my life to take me home and swing me around, of course.
Being the overzealous carnivores that we are, we booked a table at one of the premier steak houses in town, where another friend of ours happens to work. My Latin Lover arrived late, as usual…but our table was waiting for us in the corner, at our friend’s station….we ordered drinks and tried to decide what combination of meat and shellfish we would indulge in. The restaurant was packed and buzzing at 9pm…with husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends, fiancés, and me and LL. Of course, by the time we arrived at the restaurant I was buzzing too, as a result of the pre-dinner Pinot I drank ALONE while waiting for my "date" to arrive. You would think by now, after 3 years of friendship, I’d know to lie and tell her she needs to be there 30-45 minutes before I actually want her there…and then maybe she’d make it on time….apparently I’m a slow learner….and a bad liar. It’s not really her fault- she’s Latin, she can’t help it.
After downing a pomegranate martini, then switching back to wine, I decided on the surf and turf…a mini filet and lobster tail with what appeared to be a small swimming pool of melted butter heated by a tea light candle on the side, seemed like the perfect entrée for such a special and happy occasion…the celebration of love. It doesn’t have to be only romantic love that we celebrate on Valentine’s Day….we celebrate love for our friends, our families, our health, for all of the blessings that we sometimes forget to be thankful for as we go whizzing through life, and love of the simple things....like tender, medium rare filet mignon and lobster tail drenched in warm butter….and being able to treat yourself to it and truly enjoy it with friends, even if there is no “significant other” in your life at the time. But I digress…. The wine, food and conversation flowed…dinner was succulent and I enjoyed every bite, the company was fantastic….after all, I was there, and I always do a good job of entertaining myself….this night was no exception.
Three hours passed as if we’d just sat down….if only more of my dates went this way! The next thing I knew, the restaurant had emptied out, with the exception of a few tables…one of which was right next to us….an attractive, buxom blonde and a very, very ugly man. Not sure how it happened, but we started talking…she had a ridiculous name that began with an "A". Upon hearing it, I immediately re-named her Anastasia (which, somehow, seemed less ridiculous at the time) and referred to her as such for the rest of the night….she went along with it…but let’s face it…she really didn’t have a choice at that point….3 to 4 (okay 5) drinks in, I do and say whatever the hell I want.
Anastasia has 3 kids ranging from about 7 to 23, is divorced, and has been dating Ugly Man for about a year and a half. The next thing I know, Anastasia and Ugly Man have joined me and LL at our table. Then the conversation turned to me…how did that happen?? Ugly Man was overtly enthralled and enamored with me, going on and on about how pretty and sexy I was and complimenting me on my great, spunky personality. He ordered me and LL a round of drinks and kept going on about how hot and sexy and gorgeous I was…with his girlfriend sitting right next to me. At the time, it wasn’t quite registering what bizarre behavior this was…after all, being the attention whore that I am, I was just eating it up…and I thought he must just be very astute, and I appreciated him stating the obvious in such a straight forward fashion.
I honestly didn’t realize anything was awry until, all of a sudden, he asked if LL and I were homosexual…or heterosexual…I can’t remember which way he asked the question (darn wine!). It was at that moment that the light bulb must have gotten lit in my little brain…I have no idea how we responded because of all of the Pinot Noir swirling around in my head, but LL and I quickly excused ourselves to go to the bathroom, at which time she informed me that they were swingers and were trying to pick me up to take me home and swing me around (which I do like, but only one on one, and with a man). Tucked away in the bathroom, we were talking about the two whackos at our table and trying to figure out how to ditch them, when suddenly Anastasia peeked her head in. Wide eyed, I said, “Oh, hellooooo”…knowing she must have caught an earful from the other side of the door. The three of us went into our respective stalls, and LL and I waited until the coast was clear to come out. In the meantime, our server/friend was texting me asking what the hell was going on and what was I getting myself into? Naïve and clueless as I am, I had no idea what I was getting myself into…I just like hearing how gorgeous and fantastic I am. I'm such a sucker. We went back into the dining room only to find that the swingers ditched us, and our doggie bags full of lamb shank ravioli (oh, didn’t I mention that?-- to DIE for) and steak were gone! Well, it was just after midnight and the only ones still standing were me, LL and the waitstaff…our night had come to an end….
Why would the fact that I spent Valentine’s Day at a romantic restaurant sharing an extravagant dinner with my friend, who I then took back to my Love Shack, got into my king size bed and ate chocolates with and talked until we passed out, make complete strangers question my sexual orientation? Crazy swingers! I think I might book LL for next year, too…that is, if I don’t have a special man in my life to take me home and swing me around, of course.
It's Time
After years of countless dates and sporadic romances, which have resulted in endless tales of hilarity and, in a few rare cases, heartbreak, I have decided to finally chronicle the romantic drama that is my life. I was supposed to start this blog years ago, but I've been too busy going on dates with maniacs and mental cases, polishing my nails, drinking too much, reading In Style and, my all-time favorite, looking in the mirror. I've decided that, in addition to undoubtedly continuing the aforementioned beloved activities, it's now time for me to pursue my passion (writing), as well...even though I've tried to deny it, it's still there...and so it seems we truly can't deny who we really are. Believe me, I've tried. The power of the written word always astonishes me...especially when it's something fantastic that I have written. So, I've chosen my favorite subject (me), and I'm allowing myself to begin to realize my dream...being a writer...one hysterical, comical, tragic, trying tale at a time. Stay tuned...
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