Sunday, June 15, 2014
I never have trouble starting a tale of despair and disaster in the world of blogging but tonight I find myself at a loss. I am trying to figure out what the problem is and all I can come up with is that I am getting tired of dating. It is literally exhausting both physically and emotionally. Not even a glass (or jug) of Merlot can pep me up and snap me out of this dating funk. Okay, it may not cure what is ailing me but it sure does dress up my wounds in a beautiful burgundy colored bandage. I suppose what I am getting at is that this particular story may not have much whit, lessons or sex but as always I guarantee that it will possess the sad and pathetic truth (and a name change to protect the guilty).
I can't really say what it was that got into me this particular lonely evening but I decided to scroll through the endless rolodex of available Vegas bachelors online. After the first 50, they all start to morph into the same looking guy. Let me paint the picture for you. The Vegas bachelor is shirtless and standing in front of his bathroom mirror flexing and showing off whatever muscles are toned on his upper body. He is holding his phone while displaying his biceps snapping that one photo that will make the women swoon. All the while he has forgotten to tidy up the counter in front of him or wipe off the toothpaste/spit combo speckled on his mirror. Their profiles suggest that not only are they physically fit but that they are also serious about finding their partner. Sure they spend their free time riding quads, eating healthy, watching sports, shooting targets in the desert, taking care of homeless children, feeding the hungry and working out in the gym but they still have plenty of time for that one special woman. After looking at the last profile before calling it quits, I got a message. DING! The message was from this tall, dark, handsome and seemingly successful man who was in his early 40's named Devon. He didn't say much but mentioned that he liked blondes and if I would like to get to know each other to please reply. After scanning his bio online, I decided to reply. He seemed different and interesting. He owned an athletic shoe company and was partnered up with a famous NBA player. No no, I wasn't immediately drawn to dollar signs or free shoes (okay maybe one pair) but I was more excited at the thought of someone having a job and ambition. So we exchanged messages throughout the evening and the next day spoke on the phone. After a lot of chit chat, he asked me out on a date.
Let's refill before we go on.... Logistics can really make a gal thirsty!
Three days after first talking to Devon, we met. He had asked me to meet him at The Venetian at a nice little Italian restaurant where we could sit by the canal that runs through the casino and afterward take a ride on the Gondola. What? Wait a minute! We aren't meeting at a dive bar or a frozen yogurt eatery where I can sit and listen to you tell me how fat women are submissive or leave me at the table while you go to the bathroom and I never see you again?? I was so ill prepared for such a date! No jeans and sexy top, no no, this required a dress, heels and lots of hairspray. After all, he said he was 6'8" tall and seeing as how I am merely 5'10", I had some height to make up for. Platform shoes and at least 4" of teased blonde locks and I was armed and ready to go. I arrived right on time and as I approached the restaurant, I spotted Devon sitting at a table for two. At first glance I immediately knew it was him because he was decked out in his own athletic gear from head to toe. I then noticed how much older he looked than his photos but still very good looking. I approached him and he stood up and hugged me. He said he spotted me a mile away because of my bright blonde hair. Why do people always point this out to me? Clearly I am not the only one with platinum hair and an amazing hair stylist! So we sat down and he handed me my menu while pointing out that while he was waiting for me, he already decided on what to eat. Woah! Slow down bro, I wasn't late. Let me catch up! While he was utilizing the art of small talk and I surveyed the selections, I noticed that my menu seemed a bit limited for such a nice restaurant. There were only two choices for everything including entrees. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't there for the meal but it just seemed a bit strange. If I was one of those girls who merely went on first dates for a free meal then I wouldn't go through so much trouble of beautification and callus causing shoes. The server came to our table and proceeded to take our orders. Although Devon only chose water to drink, I of course opted for my own preference in liquid refreshment (one tall glass of red, thank you).
Our conversation was off to a running start! All I had to do was ask about his shoe company and how it got started. BOOM! He had so much to say that I didn't have to say a word. My job was merely going to entail just sitting there, nodding my head and look pretty. I found myself a bit intrigued by his story of how he got started and how shoes are made and then we were interrupted. To my right, just outside of the eating area, there were people standing and staring at us. One started taking photos. Then another couple slows down and starts whispering. I asked "Do you know them? Do they know you? What's going on?" He sort of laughed and said that they must think we are "somebody famous" because he is a tall black guy wearing athletic gear and I am the big breasted blonde seated with him. No sooner did he say those words that we hear one lady say out loud, "That's Coco but that isn't Ice T." Our sudden fame continued on throughout our meal but eventually we ignored it all and he continued to talk while I was sure to sit up right and smile pretty (Lord knows where those pictures could surface someday). Despite the tourist paparazzi and his endless supply of conversation (about himself) I really enjoyed my meal and then the server reappeared offering us a choice of two desserts. I declined but opted for another glass of wine. After all, being a new celebrity is exhausting.
After dessert and wine, he asked if I would care to take a ride on the Gondola. Hmmm... with all of that talk, photos and wine, I somehow forgot to see if I was even attracted to this guy. Well after careful thought, I came to the conclusion that I really had no idea other than I loved his passion for what he does. So I told him that I would like to join him.
Grab your glass and make sure it is at least half full for what I am about to tell you...
The server then arrived and said to Devon "Sir, your prepaid 2 for 1 coupon does not cover the wine." GULP! Without even batting an eyelash, Devon pointed at me and said, "Give her the bill for the wine then." GULP! Not that I am opposed to paying for my own meal or wine (hell I do that daily) but this guy used a coupon and if you are keeping score, he owns an athletic show company and let's just say, I do not! After I realized he wasn't kidding, I pulled out my wallet and paid my part of the bill and as I closed my wallet he pipes up and asks, "Will you take care of the tip too?" I opened my wallet back up and pulled out the tip money and placed it on the table and jokingly quipped, "Do you need any cab fare before I put it away?"
Devon laughed and then motioned for us to get up and go. We walked out towards the Gondola and he pulls out this ticket from his pocket and started to read it. He then informed me that his free tickets have expired and apologized. If things weren't interesting enough already, wouldn't you know it, a young girl walks up to us and asks if she could have his autograph. He told her in a simple yet sarcastic sort of way, "No, I am not who you think I am.".
Wait for it... wait for it...
After quick assessment I concluded that this night was just an entire pile of bizarre and it was time to go. I didn't feel any spark (unless you count the flash from the strangers taking photos), he was cheap, self absorbed and now rude to young girls. At that moment I told him that we should call it a night and I was going to go home. He leaned over, hugged me and asked if I would give him a ride back to his place. Yeah, I thought he was joking too, but no such luck. He then went on to explain that back in California he was involved in a hit and run and didn't take responsibility for it so his license is suspended because he refuses to pay the $16,000 worth of fines he has now accumulated. Luckily my scrunched up facial expression answered that question for him because he then chuckled and said not to worry about it, he will take a taxi. I suppose I am lucky he didn't take me up on that offer for cab fare after all! I turned and walked away (would've ran but platforms don't allow for that) saying goodnight.
The next morning while I was enjoying a lovely glass of orange juice (and vodka) and still shaking my head over the events that took place the night before, my phone alerted me to a text. Guess who? Devon text to say that he loved our date and hoped to do it again very soon. I really didn't know what to say so all I did was reply with "It was nice meeting you too." I didn't want to suggest doing it again but I did want to say that if he had anymore interesting prepaid coupons for a show like Celine Dion, then sure, I am game. But no, I left it at that, finished my morning beverage and went about my life... All by myself...
Okay, if you didn't pick up on that Celine Dion reference then you need to drink more...
Friday, January 24, 2014
I am the kind of gal who doesn't drink just one type of vino. I am an equal opportunist in the field of red wine. In fact, I have yet to meet a glass of red grapes that I didn't like. However, if you were to ask why I don't drink white wine the answer would be simple. White wine makes the end of my nose itch. We aren't talking about just a mere tickle but rather full blown bugs under the skin, rip my nose off and overdose on Benedryl type of itch. I don't look at it like it is a bad thing but rather a sign from the grape Gods that I was meant to be a red wine connoisseur. Who am I to question a higher power? With that said, I have my glass poured and enjoying each sip as I share another tale from the crypt.
I look at men and dating the way I look at wine. I love all types but unfortunately I have a bad reaction to a large amount of them. Every now and then I test the waters and try a good Gewürztraminer and find that my reaction hasn't changed. Throughout my dating career, er um I mean life, I have found that extremely wealthy men and I don't mix either. They make my skin not only itch, but crawl. Being the optimist that I am, I like to go and revisit my allergies and convictions and give a rich man a try.
I had received a message on the old trusty dating site from a man who seemed normal. They all appear normal at first until proven guilty (which never takes long as we know). At first glance, nothing about him screamed millionaire. He posted a few photos and wasn't bad looking, very clean cut complete with polo shirts. His profile said that he had two kids, in his 40's,over 6 feet tall with a full head of hair, business owner, no pets (should've been a red flag) and was looking for a long term relationship. His message to me was simple. He said "Hi, I am Matt and would like to cut to the chase and take you to dinner." I wrote back and offered my phone number and suggested we talk for a bit before meeting. He called the next day and I found him to be charming, witty and direct. Not too shabby for our first conversation. At the end of the call he asked if I would meet him for lunch the following day to which I happily agreed. Right as we were about to say goodbye, he offered up his full name so I would know he was legit. WOW! I didn't have to ask for it or do my own private investigation (also known as Google). Now there had to be a catch! It was all just too smooth and too easy. The first thing I did was look up the restaurant we were meeting at the next day. I had never heard of it when he suggested it but of course I acted like I had been there plenty of times. Turns out that the restaurant is located on the most prestigious golf course in Las Vegas. From there, I went on to look up Matt and see what I could find out on him. I quickly learned that he was no ordinary lad. No no, he was in fact a multi millionaire who came from a long line of other well known wealthy men. His grandfather was responsible for some really well known creatures in the film industry and his father was also extremely well known for creating some of the most beautiful buildings in this country. Then there is Matt who took the family money and prestige and developed restaurants and buildings around the country. Normally when finding out such details I wouldn't even agree to go out with a man like that but this one just seemed so nice. Maybe Matt would be the one to prove me wrong? He could be that one particular white wine that didn't cause an allergic reaction that affected my nose.
The next morning I quickly jumped out of bed and went straight into the closet pulling out every cute clothing option I own. I held up one thing after another while staring in the mirror and nothing seemed good enough. It could've been my ratty bed head sticking straight up or the countless jagged lines across my face from where my face was smashed against the pillow all night, but nothing looked good enough for this lunch date. I thought perhaps if I showered and put my makeup on then maybe my clothes might look differently. While shaking all of my bits in the shower to the perky lyrics of my favorite Lady Ga Ga song, it dawned on me that it doesn't matter what I wear. I just had to look nice and not try so hard. He is a human just like me and I am sure he isn't at home fretting over what he is going to wear. Besides, if all it took was a hot outfit to land a mate then I wouldn't be single all these years. I may not be a size zero but I know how to pull off nice attire. Even the most simple clothes can be spruced up with the right shoes and accessories. So I put aside all of my silly wardrobe concerns and threw an outfit together and completed it with a black wool peacoat. Besides the abnormal frigid Vegas temperature, the coat also hides a lot of imperfections.
I arrived at the valet of the country club and after seeing the brand new Mercedes, BMW's and countless Bentley cars, I made a swift detour into the self parking lot. Don't get me wrong, I love my modest Honda but it didn't stand a chance next to those higher end vehicles. The only flaw in that decision was that I was wearing 3" heels that were for show and not for comfort. I hiked up to the restaurant, wiped the sweat off of my forehead and entered. I told the host who I was there to meet and I was immediately escorted to the table where Matt was already seated. He stood up from his chair, shook my hand and gestured to the seat that I was to sit in. My first impression was that he looked much older than his photos and he licked his lips non stop. There was an obvious discomfort in the air and our small talk was really forced. I looked over the menu and as I browsed the lunch selections, he kept insisting I get a salad. The waiter approached (calling my date by name) and asked if he would like his usual and what I would like to order. Matt proceeded to order a Scotch for himself, a sandwich with a bowl of soup and for me the infamous salad with a glass of water. Wait! He gets Scotch and I get water?? To say I was a bit shocked and pissed off would be an understatement. It was at this moment I decided to just suck it up, eat my salad and sip my water (yuck) and get the hell out of there. Who does that? He didn't know me and then orders my meal! Obviously this guy is used to being the boss in life and on dates. Granted, I like a little take charge in a man but this was a bit much after only knowing each other for five minutes. I gave the waiter my menu and started asking Mr. bossy pants some personal questions. I wasn't too thrilled with him but why not dig in and learn a thing or two.
Within 10 minutes I learned that he owned several homes between Las Vegas and Southern California. He likes to travel around Europe at least twice a year. He doesn't like dogs because in his words "all they do is shit and shed" and divorced his wife for lack of blow jobs.
That's right, you heard me. Now take a deep breath and a large sip of your beverage then we will continue.
He ripped through all sorts of little details until he touched on his ex wife. Now the can was wide open and worms were everywhere! Still incessantly licking his lips and blinking one eye, he sipped his Scotch and proceeded to go on and on about his ex wife. Sure she had slept with his good friend and sure she liked to gamble away thousands of dollars a week but it was the lack of oral gratification that ultimately was the cause of their demise. He went on to say that he told her upon marriage that she would never have to lift a finger in their home, have a nanny if they had kids and maids to clean the home just as long as she greeted him on her knees each night when he returned home from work. He then asked me, "If you and I were married and you were spoiled rotten, wouldn't you greet me by giving me head every night?" I was so blown away (yeah I said blown) by this that my only response was "no but it's only because I have arthritis in my knees." He gave off an unamused chuckle and then gulped down the rest of his drink. Once our meal arrived, we both dove in and used the food as a reason not to speak to each other. He ate his lunch quite quickly and I was only half through my delicious (he was right) salad. Who knew that a garden in a bowl could be so scrumptious? As he took his last bite, he summoned the server and asked for the check. He didn't ask if I was finished, needed a refill of water or if I wanted anything else. Nothing! He pulled out his American Express black card and was sure to show it to me before handing it with the bill to the waiter. Yes hot shot, I know you are rich so calm down! In my best military imitation, I scarfed down as much salad as I could. As he finished signing for our lunch, he pulled out his wad of hundred dollar bills and asked our server for change. Once he got the money back, he stood up and said "well thanks, better get back to work". I quickly grabbed my things and followed him out towards the exit.
In an effort to end this date on a decent note I made mention of how beautiful the Christmas tree was in the lobby. Matt's response was just "UGH, Christmas!" He reached out his hand to shake mine and said that he was going to "hit the head" before he leaves and then offered me money for valet. I sarcastically said that I had it covered. Okay so I didn't use the valet service but he didn't need to know that. I happily left through the door and made my way back to my humble little Honda and got the hell out of there. As I drove home, my phone rang. Guess who? That's right, it was Mr. Bossy Pants. I hesitantly answered and he said hello in an annoyed type of tone. He thanked me for meeting him but was disheartened that I deceived him. I asked what in the hell was he referring to and he went on to say that I never mentioned the tattoo under my right wrist. He was so disgusted by my visible ink stain that you would've thought I had been his ex wife who didn't give him blow jobs. Before I could say anything in return he told me that he had another call and had to go. Click! If our lunch date wasn't bad enough, he had to top it off with some verbal shit dessert.
Once I arrived home, I kicked off my blister causing (but cute) shoes and poured a glass of Merlot. As I savored each sip I replayed the entire lunch in my head and came to the conclusion that clearly I am still unable to date rich men. So next time the urge strikes, I will drink some Pinot Grigio, scratch my nose and remind myself that white wine and rich men don't mix!
Friday, December 27, 2013
Oh that reminds me, all this typing and drinking makes for a quickly emptied glass. Bare with me while I fill 'er up!
I apologize for getting a bit off track there for just a moment but we all know that the topic of Merlot safety is one that should never be taken lightly. That said, let's continue shall we? As I began to say, I would like to share the lesson I have quickly learned this Christmas. When I paid Santa that last visit recently to discuss my new dating strategy, I had no idea that he would act on it so vehemently! No sooner did I swallow the last piece of miniature candy cane given to me by one of his elves, did I go out on a first date with a not so good looking chap.
This particular experiment's name was Corey (not really, but it's not worth getting sued over). He is 6'3", caucasian, 47 years old, full head of short brown hair, nicely built (not too big, not too small), and a full set of teeth. Are you wondering why I called him "not so good looking" yet? I will get to it. Just be patient and take another sip or gulp, you choose. Corey has a great job that takes him up north to another state for two weeks at a time then home for two weeks off that seems to pay very well. He has never been married and has no children. He owns his current home and has a car. You might think that having a car shouldn't get you dating points but trust me, it does! Do you really want to be picked up for a date on Schwinn 10 speed and riding on the handle bars or sitting piggy back on a 30 mph moped? When you total these details up you would think that he was a suitable candidate even though he carried a cell phone that was not only a flip version but might have just been the original flip phone. Still, an ancient mobile device wasn't enough to detour me from my quest to find a mate. We met at a low lit public place that was a log cabin type of tavern. He had arrived 30 minutes early and I was there right on time. I greeted him and sat down across the table from Corey and saw that there were 4 empty beer glasses as well as one half empty (or half full, depends on how you look at it) properly lined up in front of him. Not to worry, I am not about to prove that I am a hypocrite. For one who possesses a strong desire for red wine, I did not look down on him for the amount of beer he clearly chugged down prior to my arrival. He was wearing a pair of dark sweat pants, sneakers, a light colored sweatshirt and a wind breaker jacket which bared the logo of a local casino. Okay so it was a clear cut case of a wardrobe malfunction but I still refused to take him out of the running because if things were actually to progress between us, I could always help (change) his wardrobe.
Let's pause for the cause. My mouth is dry and there is nothing thirst quenching about an empty glass.
If you have been keeping track you'll know that this 47 year old is good on paper, likes to drink beer and either picks out his clothes in the dark or hasn't been taught proper wardrobe etiquette in this century. The conversation was off to a running start. He not only went into further detail of his job but also included his upbringing in a small town and how his parents are also second cousins. No, I am not kidding. I would have spit up my wine at that moment but we all know how I feel about being wasteful. The conversation quickly shifted into religion. Stop laughing, I am not the one who brought it up! Seeing as how my family houses Catholics, Jews, Mormons and a few back slidden Christians, there wasn't much he could say that I haven't already heard. I grew up in a potpourri of religion in my home and nowadays I only pray to the grape infused Gods. Next topic was about his job, again.
After the third round of "This is my job and this is what I do", I decided it was time to go. I am sure you have noticed that I never mentioned his face and there is a good reason for that. I am sure that plenty of women would find him attractive but I was not one of them. There is not enough alcohol for me to be able to describe it. Needless to say, I was looking around a lot during that date. I did give it a good effort and really tried to imagine that if over time, I could be attracted to him. Bottom line is there was no spark. Not even a flicker. Nothing. (Nada, for the Latin audience). Before he could indulge me into another round of my job is cool and this is how cool I am when I do it, I suggested that it was time to go. He paid the bill and we walked out to the parking lot and to my car. He gave me a hug and asked if he could take me out again this week before leaving for work out of town this weekend. I gave it a thought and told him yes I would. The only reason I agreed to this was I really wanted to give this no spark dating an old fashioned college try. The next day I sent a text saying hello and bla bla bla and still days later, no response. Am I disappointed, irritated and pissed off? The answer would be a hearty "HELL NO!" In a different situation I might be offended by the lack of response but in this case, I feel as though he did me a favor. I didn't want to go out again but I was open to the idea of getting involved with a man with whom I couldn't look at sober or inebriated.
So as my final glass of liquid joy empties and another one date wonder draws to a close, let's reflect on what I have learned:
1. Santa Clause took me too literally this year.
2. No amount of alcohol can make someone attractive.
3. Good on paper does not make your face more appealing.
4. A spark is very important (but only you can prevent forest fires)
5. Chances are that when your parents are related, you and I won't be having a second date.
Thank you dear jolly fat man in the big red suit for not only giving me a Christmas present so soon but also giving me the gift of a lesson. The lesson being that when dating, it is okay to want certain things out of a man including attraction.
We have a new year approaching which means more reason to eat, drink, be merry and drink a bit more! Happy 2014 and Cheers!
Sunday, December 22, 2013
Do you hear that? Listen closely because if you do you'll recognize that it is the sound of the soothing pour of a freshly opened bottle (okay box) of the finest Merlot that $10 can buy. I finally bought that particular glass that holds an entire bottle of wine. As much as I love it, it does carry with it a certain amount of guilt. On the bright side, I save time by not having to refill my glass repeatedly or suffer from uneven biceps by constantly using my right arm to life the bottle. However, by the time I finish the glass I feel my bubble burst when I realize that there is no more to pour. I suppose I could be bothered to open a new bottle or I could just buy a box. Ding Ding Ding! It is a win win situation. You see, not only do I fill a bottle size glass but when it's time for a refill, I actually have wine to drain from that cute little plastic spout. Now go ahead and fill your glass (despite the size) and join me for story time...
Tastes pretty good doesn't it?
Besides discovering all of the incredible benefits of cardboard vs. glass, I have also managed to be brave and revisit the world of dating. I know I know, you'd think I would have learned my lesson by now given all of the mishaps and train wrecks I have been involved in but no, I hang on to that little drug called hope (and sometimes Xanax). One might also assume that after all this time and my lengthy silence that I may have found "the one" but you'd be wrong again. I did manage to stumble across several liars, men hung up on other women and one millionaire. In fact, I could rewrite the 12 Days of Christmas song with the bone heads I have met over the last twelve months but I'm just not sure that "3 unemployed, 2 alcoholics and 1 millionaire" is as festive. With so many to choose from, which one do I feel like divulging the dirty details about? To be honest, it is quite difficult to pick just one wiener, sorry winner, from the loser olympics. So how about instead of choosing just one to share, I let you in on a little experiment that I am currently partaking in?
Time to tip the spout! You see, with a box there are still refills available...
I have always made sure that when I agree to meet a new man, that there is a certain amount of attraction. Let's not forget about the list I gave to Santa in the past regarding features such as height, hair or the lack of, muscles etc... and although that big fat jolly man provided such men throughout the year, all of them missed the mark. So four weeks ago I decided to go and pay a visit to Mr. Clause and discuss my ranking on this years naughty and nice list. After we went through the list and I found that I had landed smack dab in the middle of it, I went ahead and started the negotiation process for the type of man I am looking for in the year ahead. After my new and improved list of demands, er um I mean qualities I would like, he began to laugh. Okay it wasn't just laughter, it was more like a loud roar that made his belly jiggle like a bowl full of jelly (or a bottle of wine after dropping it... more reason for a box). I was suddenly embarrassed as I realized his hysterics had drawn a crowd, or maybe it was just a line of kids waiting their turn, but still I had to leave and rethink my requests.
After licking my wounds of humiliation, I thought long and hard about what matters most to me when choosing a mate. Let's not be silly, of course I would still like a taller man with a career, a home, vehicle and no outstanding warrants but in the column of physical attributes, I had to make some minor adjustments:
1. Does not have to have a shaved head. Hair is okay but it can't be long. The 80's are over, sadly. Don't get me wrong, I love the big hair bands who gave us "you give love a bad name" or "she's my cherry pie" but when it comes to hair, above the ears not down your back. Thank you and rock on!
2. The tattoos are now optional but not required. Sigh....
3. Muscles are wonderful but it isn't a deal (or brick) breaker.
4. The one thing I won't budge on is height. Be as tall as me or taller. When a man's face just barely reaches my cleavage well.... hmmmm, maybe I will have to get back to this one later.
5. Full set of teeth whether real or fake just have some pearly whites visible when smiling.
After compiling my new list of desired male traits, I realized that I am willing to date a man that isn't that attractive or necessarily has to be cute. You see, nowhere in that list did I mention good looking or sexy. Just be taller than Danny Devito and have some chops to chew food with. Armed with my revisions, I headed back to the North Pole located at the local mall and had a chat with Santa. I sat next to his lap (didn't want to hurt the old goat) and told him that I was ready to renegotiate my Christmas wish. The conversation went very well and instead of laughing, he actually told me that he was proud of me opening my mind to the possibility of falling in love with an unattractive man. I was so happy to hear this from him not only because I felt that I did good by lowering my standards but also I could smell alcohol on his breath so clearly we were on the same page. I gave him a hearty high five and he gave me a "ho ho ho" (or did he call me that) as I walked away from his winter wonderland.
I arrived home just in time to have some liquid dinner and give further thought to my new plan. If I find or meet a man who is not attractive, I will be open minded to going out with him. So what if I can't look at him sober or require dim lighting at all times? As long as he is kind, honest, funny, single, not a felon and makes an honest living then he is a candidate. This experiment will commence once the last of the egg nog and Brandy has been poured, the Christmas trees has been put back in their boxes and the dogs holiday sweaters go back in the closet, I will then begin my quest. Until then, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and Cheers!
...and be sure to recycle those boxes ;)
Sunday, March 17, 2013
After several of workouts, 40 hours at work, a much needed mani/pedi and another failed relationship, I figured it was time to pour myself a large glass of Merlot and share yet another dating debacle. My toes are a lovely shade of pale pink while my fingernails are a bright fluorescent nod to the 80's. My hair is fabulously large and makeup flawless, I am wearing turquoise pajama shorts, black tank top and furry zebra print robe and ready to share my sorrows. I mean, what else would I do looking this way? While others choose to wear this particular attire to shop at the local Walmart, I choose to sit home with my laptop and glass(bottle) of wine to divulge my pathetic attempts at happily ever after. You're welcome, you can thank me later!
Remember the good old days when you would be suffering from a breakup and your friends would be there for you with comforting words of wisdom, a meal out, cocktails at the local bar or a shopping trip to support your anguish? Looks like those days are long gone for me. Now when I inform my friends that I found myself single again, they respond by saying that it is an opportunity for another blog. You've got to be kidding me! No cocktails, no high priced shopping, no 4000 calorie meal followed by a bucket of ice cream. No! Sympathetic words of wisdom have been replaced by "please write down your misery and entertain us!" Ok fine, I can play along. Here you go my caring friends, enjoy and you can't say that I've never given you anything.
Go ahead and grab a glass of your favorite grape and let's dive in....
On a Friday night while others were out enjoying the Vegas night life, I was at home surfing the Internet for a possible date. Page after page, I scrolled through countless single men who claim that they are looking for "the one". On this particular site, you have the option to state whether you are looking for a long term relationship, marriage, dating or just a casual encounter(aka wham bam hand me a tissue ma'am). I kept it to the ones looking for a relationship because in all honesty, if I was looking for just sex, I could just pick up the phone and get it. That is not me tooting my own horn, no no, that is just the truth. Even if I didn't have a little black book, I could go down to the bar and pick a guy up and get it on the parking lot. I am a fan of the booty call, I really am, but these days I would like to find the sex with a side of relationship. Call me crazy! So I had stumbled across a few decent looking and semi normal sounding prospects but none of them were jumping off the page and then I found Brady. His profile said that he was a single part time father, business owner, local high school coach, 6'4" tall, tattooed and liked dogs. His one photo was just from the shoulders up and from what I could tell, he was broad with a shaved head and goatee. Ding Ding Ding! I sent him a message that was short and sweet that read "Hello. My name is Christy and I enjoyed your profile. If you'd like to chat after seeing mine, that would be great." The way I see it, why go on and on if he takes one look at me and isn't interested? Within two minutes he had responded with his name. We went back and forth through messages then moved on to exchanging phone number and texts. Before long, he asked to meet me the next night for dinner. I agreed and the next day we met up at a casual restaurant. I didn't feel the need to get all dolled up this time. The hair and makeup were good but I was wearing the most casual clothes. It was just a step up from what I have on now. Once we got out of our cars and saw each other, the clouds parted and the angels starting singing. That spark that I've always read about actually happened to me. We hugged and just clicked right from the start.
After 4 hours of non stop conversation and barely touching our food, we left the restaurant. He asked if he could hug me goodbye and while hugging I asked if I could kiss him goodbye. I know, the little slut in me wanted to test the merchandise. Let's just say he passed with flying colors. Brady asked if he could see me again the next day and of course I said yes. He was so good looking in person and beyond charming. He had told me I was beautiful and couldn't understand why I was single. The next day we met for a movie then dinner. During dinner we shared stories and found that we had a lot in common. A few glasses of wine into the meal, I was an open book. Normally that could frighten a man away but in this case, he seemed to really like what I had to say. Once the night came to an end, we said goodbye at my car and then kissed for several minutes. I could not get enough of his mouth! My inner slut was becoming a bonafide whore and was trying to convince me to go home with him. I won the fight and reluctantly got into my car and went home. That week we saw each other nearly every day. He would text and/or call me throughout the day saying the nicest things like he was already hooked or he really liked me.
After 6 weeks of bliss, what went wrong? That is a great question and I don't really have a solid answer only the facts. After our (excuse the expression) beating around the bush phase ended and we consummated our relationship, things were amazing. Not only did we laugh, have fun, talk and do nice things for each other but we were also having fantastic sex. My only complaint would be that he always preferred me to be on top. It felt great, don't get me wrong but now and then I prefer to enjoy more and work less. Just sayin...
I would like to say that we got into a big fight, caught me faking an orgasm or even worse, I caught him with another woman but no. None of the above. It just went from being head over heels everyday to he was busier at work and busier with his kids every night. Our nights filled with dinner then great sex for dessert turned into cancelled plans with apology phone calls. Text messages replaced phone calls then silence replaced the texts. The constant disappointment turned me into a full blown bitch. Sweet and polite me ran into the phone booth, spun around and came out psycho woman. I became a cliche. In no way was I concerned that he had met someone else. I was just frustrated and confused as to why we went from happy and seeing each other to a few texts throughout the day and cancelled plans. I felt blown off without much of an explanation other than his work was getting busier, he was coaching at school daily and had sports with his boys at night. Okay fine, that makes sense but what didn't quite work for me was on his no kids, no coaching, no work weekends, he still didn't have time for us. I finally asked him if he just wanted to end things and part ways since he was "so busy". He told me that he was sorry and didn't want it to be over and would work on fitting me into his life. I was happy to hear this and believed it would change. Wrong again Christy! One week later and nothing had changed other than my frustration meter which went up several degrees. Then another week went by and we had a long talk on the phone where I said that it's clear he is too busy for this relationship and in turn he convinced me that things were going to get back to normal and the last thing he wants is us to split then concluded by apologies and promises. You guessed it, one week later and still nothing changed!
After a few weeks of not seeing each other passed, he promised to spend Saturday with me. Yay, finally! Saturday morning rolled around and he called saying he had to go on a job and was sorry but he would make it up to me on Sunday. Against my better judgement, I agreed to it and then didn't hear from him until late that night when he text to say goodnight. On Sunday morning, I woke up like a kid on Christmas. I was really excited to see him and vowed not to give him any crap about his recent absence in my life. I was just going to enjoy our time together. Well friends, that day of enjoyment did not happen. Brady called and was engaging in small talk then shared that he couldn't sleep the night before because he was torn about "us". He went on to say that he doesn't have time in his life for me anymore and that I deserve someone who makes me a priority and has time to care about me. Ouch! I stayed silent as he proceeded to tell me that he would've called it quits sooner but struggled with the idea that if he let me go, then someone else would scoop me up and that was an unsettling thought for him. Poor guy. He asked me to say something and I told him that there was no point in saying anything, what's done is done. So all I could say was goodbye.
If you are reading this thinking that there must be something missing from this story and surely two people don't go from bliss to suddenly too busy to breakup in the blink of an eye without a good reason, then that makes two of us. Is it possible that one's life gets that hectic that they don't have time for the other? Was there another woman? Did he simply just lose interest? I have no idea. All I know is that I may never know.
Like Queen once said, another one bites the dust. Instead of a night out with girlfriends, cocktails and rich food I have chosen to indulge my dear friends with another bite of my pathetic life. Feel free to thank me as I finish off my bottle, er uh I mean glass of wine.
You are welcome!
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Before you ask, yes, my glass is full of red liquid goodness. Question is, why isn't yours?
Before I continue sharing about my big journey that I am on of weight loss and discovery, I feel the need to share a dating story. This particular situation occurred literally the month before I started my quest to get fit. The reason I point that out is purely because most days before I started to change my life, I clearly felt that it was more important to love someone else rather than myself. In fact, you can probably see that pattern in most of these disaster stories. If I had loved myself, I wouldn't have put up with such bullshit for as long as I have. Not to worry, just because I am shedding the pounds doesn't mean I won't be dating or sharing stories. I have so many left in my arsenal that I have yet to put out there. Believe me, I look forward to writing about the guy who had to have the show "South Park" on while we had sex or the guy who left me alone in the dark on a mountain one night because I wouldn't give him head. Don't judge me, it was only the first date and we went dutch on dinner. However, tonight's little treat is about a man who needs to be evicted from the closet he is clearly residing in.
I expect that you are now sharing an adult beverage with me. I am on round two so catch up!
So, this an unconfirmed case of closet homosexually but I hope that you share your conclusion after you finish reading. I have carefully selected a faux name for this guy because we don't need to add lawsuit on top of the humiliation he already caused me. So everyone please welcome to the page, "Nick". If you are familiar with me at all or let's be honest, have met me, you will know that I have been internet dating over the last few years. I don't attend church (anymore), I never meet my soul mates in line at Starbucks (nor do I go there) or pick up dudes while also picking up cucumbers in the produce department. So yes, I am an online dater. If I can shop for discount designer shoes on the internet, why not men? So I stumbled across this 6'6" hunky piece of meat on the site and after reading his profile, I was intrigued. Let me break it down for you. Nick was 40 years old and divorced. He has two kids that he has every other weekend. He has light brown hair and at that time, full facial hair. He is a computer tech guy for a big company here in Las Vegas. I never understood what he did, I just know that he had 3 side by side computer screens on his desk in his office and talked about internal errors, megabytes and other crap that just doesn't interest me. All I care about it is that my computer turns on/off and let's me surf porn while buying things I don't need. He was also into martial arts and in fact, he was a black belt and taught classes a few nights a week. Here's the thing, once I read the part about the karate, I was sort of hooked. This sick attraction stems way back to my childhood and the huge crush I had on Ralph Macchio. Wax on... wax off! Towards the end of his profile, he said that he was looking for a long term relationship and not into games. In fairness, who actually says in their bio that they love playing games and full of drama? So I contacted Nick and told him that if he wanted to get to know me then write back. Boom! Within a few minutes, I had a response.
I may sound a bit feisty but I started drinking much earlier tonight while at a jewelry store event I was invited to. I figured, why stop there? So I kept the wine party going when I got home. Cheers!
Nick responded with a simple message. He wrote "Nice to meet you Christy. I am Nick and would love to talk on the phone. Here is my number...". Normally that would've irritated me right off the bat because anyone who says that it is nice to meet me without actually meeting me, is a bit of an idiot. I didn't play the game of waiting for awhile to call because I am not getting any younger and I didn't put in my profile that I play games. I called and he answered after the first ring. I introduced myself and he seemed very surprised that I called so soon. I must say that the lad had quite the deep and very sexy voice. That is such a turn on because I immediately imagine the sexy things he could say to me in bed. We agreed to meet the very next night after a really long talk on the phone. He seemed straight forward (like me) and very down to earth. No muss no fuss. The next night we met at a bar. We sat out on the patio where it was more quiet complete with a fireplace. After four hours of conversation and witty banter, we walked out to say goodnight. In the PG version, I got in my car in left. In reality, I kissed him for a long time in his car while 80's music played on the stereo. As I drove home that night, I thought about everything I learned about him and decided that I may just like him. The next day, he had text me several times including once to ask if I would go out to dinner with him for sushi with him that evening. I agreed and that night, we went out to dinner. It was one of those great dinner dates where he ordered all different types of sushi and after so many bites, he would lean over and kiss me. I was really digging this guy. He took control and ordered my dinner and showed me public affection. Let's not forget the sexy voice. Of course we acted like teenagers and made out in the car after we finished. We continued to go out on several dinner dates, went shopping for a new TV together for his new house, had a picnic, went to the movies and just had fun together. Things were going swimmingly.
So what could go wrong? Pour yourself a glass and I will tell you.
After all of the time we had been spending together, he asked me to come over to his house for dinner and a movie on a Friday night. He suggested that I bring my toothbrush and stay the night. Yep, you guessed it! It was time to take our make out sessions one step further and have sex. Naturally I paid a visit to my favorite waxer that afternoon and then proceeded with a long shower. I packed a few items into my bag and arrived promptly at his house. He had been cooking and had the table set complete with candles and red wine (good boy). After dinner, we watched movie that was supposed to be a comedy about a guy with cancer but of course, there is nothing funny about cancer. He turned out the lights, took me by the hand and led me upstairs. Here we go! We got right down to business. I was so turned on and excited and before you know it, we were having sex. Let me be more specific, as soon as he got hard, he then got soft. That's right, the actual penetration lasted less than a minute. He couldn't keep it hard. He laid down next to me, apologized then turned over and wouldn't say a word. Eventually he fell asleep but I just couldn't. I was mortified. Why did he go limp? Was it me? Was he not a fan of the brazilian wax job? I was stumped. The next morning, I got my things and told him I had to get home for a hair appointment. I know, I know, there is no such thing as getting your roots done at 6am but he didn't need to know that. We had an awkward goodbye and I drove home still wondering what went wrong. A few hours later, he text me saying he was spending the weekend with gay buddy from work who just went through a breakup and would call me Monday. Seriously?!? 48 hours ago you couldn't get enough of me and now you'll talk to me Monday? Monday rolled around and as promised, Nick called and after small talk, he apologized for the failed attempt at sex. He explained that he must've just been nervous and would like a chance to make it right. We agreed to meet up on Thursday and go out to dinner then have dessert at his place. As planned, we had a nice meal together then went straight to his house. We had both communicated just how eager we were to try again so we wasted no time once we got to his home. Clothes were thrown all over the room and there we were back to bed. To my surprise, this time he didn't last a minute. Nope, he lasted 30 seconds before going soft. UGH! Once again, he rolled over and said that he was sorry. I got dressed and said I was going home.
How does such a fairy tale end?
Nick did not call or text for several days after that night. I was okay with that because I was really embarrassed and confused. Finally he text and said that he didn't know what the problem was and he was so sorry about it. We exchanged a lot of communication that week and stupidly, I agreed to see him on Friday night. I went to his house for dinner and afterwards we sat on the couch watching "Will and Grace". Before the episode could end, he suggested we go upstairs. Reluctantly I went up and once we got to his bed, said that he was going to try something different. He then turned out all the lights (not different Nick), and told me to get on all fours. No sooner did I do as he said, we were having full blown sex. 30 seconds went by then a minute (already a record best) then many minutes and before you know it, he stayed hard and managed to complete the transaction. Once finished, he dropped down to the bed and caught his breath. After his breathing normalized, he told me that doing it from behind was going to be the only way he could have sex with me and that the room had to be dark. Oh, one important bit I left out was that he told me to be quiet and try not to make any noise while we were doing it. Let's deconstruct this situation. He couldn't keep it up while missionary. He liked the room dark. The sex had to be from behind. I wasn't allowed to make noise and he was ready to go after watching a TV show about gay guys and straight girls. Sadly, this isn't my first rodeo with a homosexual guy so with that in mind, I got dressed and got the hell out of his house. No goodbye and no bullshit excuse, just left. The very next day I got a text message that said "Christy, you are a really nice girl and we have so much fun but I feel that you are too clingy and that's not for me. Good luck and take care". I'm sorry, I am too clingy? Not only is Nick gay but he is also an asshole! Oh the irony. After I was able to pick my jaw up off of the floor, I replied to his text in the best way I saw fit. "Oh Nick, the only thing I was clinging to was the idea that you were straight." I never heard from him again.
My bottle is empty which means I need to end this sad story...
As the pounds continue to come off of my body, I am discovering that the Christy that has been buried under all that weight will no longer kid herself into thinking that giving men like Nick that many chances is acceptable. After that first night of failed sex, I should've talked to him about it. I should've figured out by simple conversation whether or not to give him one more chance. I didn't need to keep belittling myself in his bedroom. I really believed somehow that his lack of wood was directly related to the size of my body. Wrong! It wasn't me at all but yet I believed it was. So my friends, no matter how much you weigh, if a man is gay, it doesn't matter how you look. Until you produce a penis, there isn't a chance in hell. Just ask Nick.
Goodnight and sweet dreams
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Go ahead and grab your glass of "grapes".
Although I would prefer writing about my earth shattering dates with Steve Martin, they haven't happened. That doesn't mean that they won't it just means that he hasn't come to his senses yet. So I have decided to touch on a topic that everyone can relate to in one form or another, weight loss. Whether you are already skinny but struggle with that pesky 5lbs or you are near 400lbs and just can't get off that last 250lbs, it is something that seems to effect a great deal of us. Recently I was on a flight and this guy sat next me who was dressed decently and have a few extra pounds on him but not enough to be considered a fatty. During the flight he was chatting me up about his home in the Hollywood Hills and the cities he travels to around the world for work. This conversation not only had me ordering several in flight adult beverages but also made me think that he is just a typical douche bag flaunting a lifestyle that he doesn't actually have. Once he stopped sharing the details of his life, he asked me what I did for a living. In an effort to get him to lose interest in me, I told him that I was spending this year losing weight. Let's face it, one of the biggest turn offs to a man is the mere suggestion of fat. I don't care how large his erection gets, talk about obesity and that thing goes more limp than a gay man at a girly strip club. This was the one exception to that rule. Suddenly my talkative stranger seemed interested in what I had to say. Not quite the reaction I expected. I went on to tell him about the amount of weight I had lost so far and that led to a series of questions regarding my diet and exercise regime. He then shared that he had about 20 extra pounds that he was struggling with and how he has hired trainers and nutritionists but just couldn't get that weight off. Before we knew it, the flight was over and we parted ways. He gave me his business card and asked me to stay in touch and maybe I could help him shed a pound or two. That weekend I was in my hotel room and decided to look this guy up online. Thanks to Google, I discovered that this man was a very successful billionaire. Not millions but billions. I spent the next hour reading about his list of accomplishments and how he could own just about anything in this world. What is the point of this might you ask? Maybe he should've paid for my bottles of wine on the flight? Okay well besides that, I learned two important lessons by this experience. First one is that you never know who you might meet on a plane. As much as they may be full of shit, they also might just be legit. The most important lesson I took away from this was that it doesn't matter who you are or what you have, weight is something that we have in common. Let's be honest, the only thing I had in common with this guy was that we both like money (and wine). Since that flight, we now exchange emails and talk about food and workouts. He wasn't such a douche bag after all.
Man, this wine glass isn't big enough. This constant refilling is annoying. Must look into buying one of those glasses that holds an entire bottle in it.
Since my Donald Trump encounter, I have found myself in the middle of many conversations with all different types of people about weight. What is interesting is that people seem more open to discuss sex with total strangers rather than fat. "Hi, my name is Eric and I like anal sex". The crowd nods and looks sympathetic and supportive.
"Hi, my name is Christy and I am 200lbs overweight". The room gasps and no one makes eye contact with me.
Why is this? Seriously, how likely are we to walk into a room with 100 random people and discover that we all enjoy a little back door action in bed? Okay so I might be one of "those" people but I guarantee that the other 99 strangers don't all feel the same way (don't knock it until you try it). However, I believe that in that same room of people, each and every person could say that there is or was a time that they were carrying extra weight and/or uncomfortable with their bodies. This theory has led me to realize that I should be more open about it and share my life long experience with fat and the loss of it. I clearly have no problem with being an open book about my dating disasters and the total idiots I have wasted my time on so why not speak candidly about obesity as well?
I turned 37 back in September(gasp, gulp) and it was the first birthday I have had where my wish wasn't to lose weight while blowing out my candles. This time I was actually down almost 100lbs since May and counting. Now I am aware that saying my wish out loud won't make it come true but I am willing to take that chance for the sake of my blog. My wish was to be happy. This isn't the wine talking, I really did wish to be genuinely happy. Don't get me wrong, I haven't been outwardly miserable my entire life but in all fairness, I may always wear a big smile and laugh instead of cry but inside, I was sad and often times a lonely mess. Looking back on photos of my life, there were two things you'd see. I was always big and always smiling. When I was really young, I somehow learned that if I laughed instead of cried, then no one would catch on that I hated being so big. The more comfortable I acted about my body, then those around me would follow suit. Damn I was a smart kid! I have 3 older brothers and look like none of them. Growing up, they were all fit and good looking. Then there was me. Back in 1975, there had to be quite a few of those hospital mix ups right? Regardless, I grew up in a family where I couldn't relate to them in more ways than just physical. So I had developed and mastered the art of "faking it". This would be a skill that got me through bullying, job interviews, awkward moments and many bad sexual encounters. After all these years, I am now peeling back the layers of fat and discovering just who I am. Let me tell you this, losing weight is far more than just unwanted pounds. Shedding the weight is actually proving to be easier than the emotional uncovering that goes along with it. So why am I telling you all of this? My thought is that if we are all more open about such a taboo topic of obesity, then maybe it will become easier. Maybe we all won't so be scared of something that is so common. Better yet, we might be more supportive of one another rather than so judgmental. Okay, that was deep I know and I will be careful not to that it happen too often. So, if you happen to log on and read my blog, just know that it will now contain my journey of self discovery. This transformation will also include dating, sex, plenty of red wine and the sad truth.
Before I go on with stories and humiliation, I must go buy some more Merlot. Let's be honest, this glass isn't going to fill itself. Not to mention, I need to fulfill my daily serving of fruit. Like I said, grapes count!
Cheers to 2013!