A date in the life...

A date in the life...

Sunday, August 6, 2017


I know I know...  It's been a long ass time since I have shared the nonsense that goes on in my little world and for that, I am sorry.   Once you date someone who gets his willy sucked off by men and uses you for your money, connections and can't keep his dick up because he prefers penis, you tend to take a break from the self inflicted torture of dating.  Well, at least I did.   Although I have been enjoying the time to myself, I have gotten a wee bit lonely.  I have amazing friends, a great career, lots of wine (that I am currently drinking) wonderful dogs and a few awesome family members but I can only take care of myself so much before it gets old.  Not to mention, showing up to events solo after a certain age is not charming and batteries are freakin' expensive!   It is fucking pathetic.  So what do I do about it?  I go back out into the big scary abyss of dating.  

Jeez!  One glass down and refilling as we speak.  That wine goes down faster than Pamela on Tommy Lee!

One thing I should mention is that in the time I took off from dating, I learned a lot about myself.  I also learned how to love who I am and not who I think I should be.  What a difference that makes!  My entire attitude has changed which will make finding the "one" better but more difficult.  I won't put up with the bullshit that I used to because I felt like I had to tolerate it all because I didn't deserve better.   What a load of crap!  No, I deserve the total package.   Let's face it, I was engaged to a douche bag who I knew was still in love with his ex wife.  I put up with it because I didn't think enough of myself to do better.  I am so grateful that I left that arrogant bastard.  He probably would've called me her name during the vows.  
I need to gulp down more "juice".  Talking about that sorry excuse for a man gets me all riled up.  
Okay... I am all better now and moving on...

The girls I work with all tell me that dating is a numbers game and if one tanks, then move on to the next.  I was also advised not to use a free dating web site but rather join one where you have to pay because I would find a better crop of boys.   Needless to day, once I signed up and entered my credit card number, I was off and running.  I had my fair share of Nigerian princes who claim to have millions and if I send them money, I would then be rewarded with wealth and their sand bags ;)
Then a message from a guy popped up who actually lives here.  Cute (check), Tall (check),  Job(check), divorced(check), owns a vehicle(check) and wants a relationship(check).  We messaged then moved on to text and then planned to meet up a few days later.   That evening came and we met at a cool little restaurant downtown.   He was even better looking in person and smelled great.  Not going to lie, a nice smelling man is a huge turn on!  A little cologne goes a long way.  Just saying...
We had really nice conversation and he talked all about his daughters.  During the course of the night, I found out that I know his ex wife.  She just happens to own the salon I have been going to for 8 years.  That didn't really seem to bother either one of us but just reminded me that Vegas is a small town.  After dinner, he walked me to my car and asked if he could see me again.  I said yes and then we hugged and kissed goodbye.  

The following day I got off work and he called me.  He sounded a bit strange and when I asked if he was okay, he proceeded to mention symptoms he was having throughout the day and asked my opinion.  Truth be told, I thought that he was having a possible heart attack.  In that moment, he just happened to be near a hospital so I told him to go into the ER and get checked out.  That took no convincing.  He went in and an hour later, he text and said that he was getting checked out because his EKG was "bad".  I asked if he told anyone he was there and he said that he didn't want to worry anyone.  I ended up going to see him because I thought it was shitty to be in that situation and by yourself.  I walked in and he was surprised but happy to see me.  The Cardiologist came in and told him that he was on the brink of a stroke and was going to be admitted.  I stayed for a few hours and when he was close to falling asleep, I said goodbye.  He thanked me several times for being there for him.  

The following week, he was out of the hospital and wanted to take me out on a second date to "thank me" for what I had done for him.  We met up on a Saturday night for dinner.    It went really well.  We laughed and talked more openly about things.   I'm guessing near death can make you less worried about being polite and far easier to just let it all hang out.  Afterwards, we said our goodbyes and sealed it with a kiss.  A few days later I was at the salon getting my monthly color touch up done and he text asking what I was doing.  When I told him, he immediately told me not to tell anyone there that we were seeing each other.  Not that I was planing on it but asked him why.  He got very defensive and said that he didn't want anyone knowing his business.   Ummmmmm  okay?!?!?   I told him that I wouldn't but of course I told my stylist who just happens to be one of my closest friends.   She didn't think too highly of him but was supportive of my seemingly happy feeling of adoration for him.  I didn't hear from him after that.  I didn't hear from him for several days which was odd because he was the one who text me good morning every day and throughout the day.  I started to wonder if the poor guy had a stroke or worse so I sent him a text.    That moron has the feature turned on in his phone that shows when the message was read.   So I knew in fact that he read it!  No reply.  I sent one later asking if he was okay and again, he read it but nothing in return.  I waited a bit then text that I can see that he is reading my messages but no response so it's good to know he's alive.  That sarcastic humor didn't translate well.  He snapped back with this little gem...
"I am sorry that I don't give you the attention you want.   Obviously you want more out of me than I want to give you.  Good luck Christy".  
What in the actual fuck was that??!??!?!?!?!?!   I had no words.  
That was like a texting drive by!
All I could say was, "Good luck with your heart".

As I sit here chugging yet another glass of red wine goodness, I am still finding myself confused as to what actually happened there.  I have no answer or resolution about it so I will just put him on the shelf along with the others.  File him away in the ex files and move on.   Okay....I did move on right away but that's another story for another night with a different bottle of wine.  

Cheers and goodnight!

Friday, November 25, 2016

Tickety Tock Tock

As I sit here sipping a light Cabernet, I am unable to get this idea out of my mind regarding my relationships.  I woke up this morning wondering if I will always be single.  This thought has not only consumed me all day but has also forced me to take a long hard look at my life.  Let's be honest, the only way to truly dissect the facts is to drink wine, so naturally I am fully locked and loaded. 

As I sift through ex files, I see a lot of men who ultimately were commitment phobic, cheaters, nut jobs and narcissists.  I have dated some truly crazy mother fuckers but that doesn't mean I don't take any responsibility for things not going well.  One relationship in particular, ended with me getting beat up by him while he was in a drunken rage.  He doesn't "recall" it and blames the amount of alcohol he had in him but my coworkers and friends remember it clearly as they saw the after math on me.  Why do I bring this up you ask?  I can look back on each situation and pin point something I could have done differently even in the case of getting tossed around by a man who I was incredibly happy with until that moment.  That particular evening, I was the designated driver to him and our friends during a night out on the town.  After dropping off our company, we went back to my house.  He was so intoxicated that he became very argumentative and determined to drive himself home.  I did not want him leaving because not only could he have hurt himself but also an innocent bystander.  He did not want me driving him home.  He was hell bent on driving himself.  I blocked him from leaving and he started yelling at me to move then my dog started barking.  I saw him make a fist while looking down at my dog and my instinct was to protect my dog.  In doing so, I then got pushed through a door (breaking it in half) and then experienced more of his rage before he eventually passed out.  What could I have done to avoid that?  I could have just dropped him off at his house before I went home.  I didn't have to bring us both back to my house.  He could have come back to my house the next day and picked up his car.  A friend of mine at the time said that I should've just let him leave and not block him.  Again, he could've hurt or killed someone and that is something I just couldn't live with.  Wounds, bruises and bones heal but you can't replace a life. 

Woah, that was deep!  Already time to refill my glass... if you also need to fill up then go ahead, I will wait!

The reason I woke up thinking about this eternal single life dilemma is simply due to a dear friend of mine who text me last night after reading my latest blog entry and suggested that I may have to succumb to a permanent single life.  In short, she said that I am going to end up alone with 20 dogs.  I am not going to lie, that idea doesn't bother me as much as it should merely because I love dogs so much.  Another good friend recently said that I have made a career out of being single.  Not true and certainly not my intention but still struck a nerve with me.
Sidebar: If you abuse animals, then you are nothing more than a worthless piece of worm infested shit and deserve any karmic retribution that comes your way.  Just saying.
Nobody, including myself, can say that I haven't put myself out there and given dating and relationships the old college try.   I have given it the college try, grad school, med school and every sort of "try" in between.  On the flip side of the dating coin, I have managed to know some men who I think I could really settle down with.   So why haven't I?  These men are not only rare but they are also unattainable.  There are a majority of them who are already in a committed relationship but just looking for an affair.  I am no home wrecker and not interested in adding that to my resume in this lifetime.  The rest of them aren't wearing "single and ready to commit" signs, they don't live here or in the general vicinity (or in the same country) .  Or is it possible that there is another reason?  Maybe one little word that goes by the name "timing"?   Yes, timing!  That's it!

Speaking of time... it's time to sip sip sip my way into more inebriated wisdom. 

What does timing have to do with relationships (or love as Tina Turner once asked)?  Naturally one could deduce that I have met some actual assholes, liars and all out creepers but what about the good ones?  There have been a few but there was a reason that they didn't stick.  While in my 20's, I was in a relationship with a guy who wasn't really my cup of tea but we got along beautifully.  We were not only compatible sexually but we also got along like best friends.  As time went on, I found myself attracted to the guy who wasn't originally my type.  This went on for some time then he suggested we move in together.  So being in my early 20's (and not knowing better) I agreed to it.  While at home packing one afternoon, boyfriend who we will call Sam, called and said his truck was in the shop and asked for a ride to a friends house on my way to work.  No problem boyfriend!  While at work that night, a young(er) girl asked to see me.  She introduced herself then proceeded to tell me that we had Sam in common.  In fact, I dropped him off to her house that day.  Wait, it gets better.  She also proudly announced that she was pregnant, they were in love and since he hadn't told me she felt it was her duty.  Well shit!  On my way home that night, I stopped by Sam's apartment and calmly asked him about the girl.  He sat and very matter of fact said that it was true, he did love her but didn't know how to tell me because he loved us both.  He happened to be sitting in a chair near the sliding glass door and next to me was a case of wine we had purchased while on a trip to a winery the weekend prior.  Naturally, I grabbed a few bottles and slung them at him.  I missed (sadly) and instead managed to break the sliding glass door.  Whoopsie!  In retrospect, that was a huge waste of amazing wine and a waste of a perfectly fine door.  I really liked Sam and our time together but clearly the timing was wrong.  I was young, he was not ready to commit to just one person and I foolishly wasted wine (something I would never do in my older and wiser age).

One of my best relationships ended due to poor timing.  100%, timing.  He and I met due to the strangest of circumstances.  My boyfriend was sleeping with his wife.  Yep, you heard me!  This man found out about his wife and then found out who the man was which lead him to me.  I will never forget the day when I got the call.  This deep southern voice on the other end introduced himself and then dropped the bomb.  The man I was with and cared deeply for was the same one diddling this guys wife.   Of course he and I split but there was this married (soon to be divorced) man who was devastated and needed a friend.  He needed that person who wasn't directly involved in his family and life but equally understood what he was going through to talk to during this shit storm.  So out of this mess we found a friendship.  His name was Kelly and he was such a warm and sweet person.  We found ourselves talking every single day.  Eventually our conversations were no longer about those who we split from but rather about just everyday things and life.  One night while talking, he told me that it may sound crazy but he had feelings for me and I couldn't lie, I felt the same.  He then asked if we could spend some time together once his divorce was final.  It was a really quick divorce as she was already planning her future with my ex so it took no time at all to complete.  We literally came face to face the day after his divorce was final.  We both dove in feet first and had such a good time together.  It was that rare moment that I felt I had finally met my "soul mate".  We both dropped the L bombs and couldn't get enough of each other.  We even talked marriage.  Then things changed.  He became a bit distant.  He wasn't so happy sounding anymore.  Then I got the call.  He said that it all happened too fast and he never took the time to deal with what happened with his wife, their daughter now living between two homes, his parents, the house and cars they had just bought when he found out about the affair etc..  He went on to say that he avoided all of the heartache and reality by jumping into a relationship.  It was all now hitting him and he needed to deal with it.  I couldn't argue with him.  I loved him, I truly did but we did just dive into "us" when we were both cheated on.  We didn't argue nor was it a bad conversation.  It was just sad and honest.  I told him I understood and loved him very much but I knew that he needed that.  Then we hung up.  I was heart broken.  I missed him as soon as we said goodbye.  Throughout the years, we have exchanged texts saying "Merry Christmas", "Happy Birthday" and so on but that's it.  It was that relationship that made me understand the importance of timing.  I believe that if he and I merely just kept it light and stayed in touch after it happened, that eventually once the smoke cleared that we would've been very happy together for the long haul.  He was such a genuine and wonderful man and I am better for experiencing that time of my life with him. 

Where does that leave me?  Quite frankly it leaves me thirsty with an empty glass but that is an easy fix!

Since Kelly, I have had relationships and dates come and go from my life.  I've even found myself in a situation where I was seeing someone who I liked right out of the gate and things were going well then he told me that it was moving too fast and he cut the cord.  Some time later, he got back in touch with me and told me that he feels like he "fucked up" and blew it.  Now to him I was the one that got away.  So this round it was about his timing.  To this day, we are friends and still chat about his dates gone wrong and so on.  He's a good guy and I hope he finds that woman who has her shit together and his timing is on point.

Again I ask, where does that leave me?  Sure, all of it has left me with lessons learned, a few scars, a chipped heart, good memories, tears and a deep adoration for the almighty vino but what else?  I will tell you.  All of it has given me wisdom.  As my little internal clocks ticks away and I am reminded that I am now 40, never married, no children (but awesome dogs) and single, that I am still open to love.  I am not so wounded that I think love is bullshit and relationships don't work.  No.  I am now being more cautious and treading lightly because timing is everything.  I want genuine love despite what certain friends think.  This man has to be single.  He has to be looking for more than just wham bam hand me a tissue ma'am.  He and I need to be friends just as much as much as we are lovers.  Then of course the obvious things like trust, honesty, humor, attraction, a job, loves dogs etc...  Sure we all have baggage but I want a man who has his bags tucked away and more importantly, a fresh battery in his watch so his timing is right.

Christmas is around the corner so happy holidays and if you come across Santa, ask him to throw a nice guy in my stocking will ya!


Sunday, October 30, 2016

Earth and Uranus

What is that noise you hear?  That is the sound of the precious cork leaving the perfectly crafted bottle filled with an endless array of grapes squeezed into what can only be described as the juice of the heavens.  I have poured my 32oz glass and ready to dive into this blank page and fill heads with my words of possible wisdom and inebriated thoughts. 

So what is on my mind tonight?  Failed relationships, psychotic first dates, men who believe that they are real vampires?  No.  I have actually been giving a lot of thought to the idea of men being from Mars and women being from Venus.  Excellent theory and not to mention, sold a shit ton of books.   It basically pointed out the differences in men and women and although I did agree with a lot of it, I think there needs to be a basic and more up to date version.  One that is written by a female who not only has dated A LOT but also writes from a (wine filled) experienced female perspective and not from a man with a PH.D.  Red wine trumps PH.D.  Sorry John Gray.  Let's face it, times are changing but the ongoing battle of male vs. female is not.  Our country has gone bat crap crazy.  We see and hear that "Black lives matter" at every blink of the eye, people killing cops instead of obeying the law, creating new terms daily for transgender (or is it gender non-comforming), an NFL player (asshole) refusing to respect our flag and Pledge of Allegiance because he feels like this country disrespects his race, there's an orange dick wad reality star running for president who thinks women are nothing more than a piece of ass and we have blown the idea of being politically correct right out of the water and replaced it by everyone being offended by EVERYTHING!  You can't fart in your own home without someone being appalled or having an opinion about it.  Look, it is actually possible to say something and not hear a running diatribe of how you offended someone or disrespected something.  Just stay away from social media if you do express your thoughts and enjoy a nice bottle of wine instead. 

**Sidebar**  while I take in a few extra sips... that NFL moron should think twice about his patriotic protest.  This country that supposedly disrespects you and your race is the same country that is paying you millions of dollars for chasing a ball around on grass and patting your buddies asses during the game once a week.  You're welcome douche bag.   So sorry you feel you need to sit instead of stand during the song of this great USA but I like will keep standing with my hand placed over my heart loudly singing the words of our allegiance all the while this white girl works her ass off for a tiny percentage of what you make.  You call the white people privileged, I say that your ethnic ass is a spoiled moronic dick**

Woooh!  Those rants feel good to get out. Like I said, if you don't like it (or what I have to say, then get off social media)    Ahhhhhh....okay, moving on...

Are Mars and Venus really that different?  Are they just planets and that's where the commonality ends?   Is this really true of men and women?  I believe that we are quite different in ways yet we are both still bipeds (although I would argue some men I've met being anything more than a penis and a set of balls).  The fact that men and women are both bodies on two legs can't be the only thing we share.  There has to be more but how do we connect the dots and the stars between the planets?  I think it is simple.  Communication!

Let me deconstruct... and refill my glass...

One BIG difference between us is sex.  SEX SEX SEX!  There are several ways to actually do the almighty deed, granted, but there are some big misconceptions in this department.  Let's break it down (if you were a kid growing up in the 80's and 90's like me, then that has a different meaning).  When us women know we are going to have sex, we get into the shower, wash our gardens, trim or remove the hedges, shampoo/condition our hair, exfoliate our skin and continue to shave everything south of our necks.  Then it's on to the oral hygiene.  We make sure we floss and brush our teeth then dry our hair knowing it is about to get smashed to our scalps and flailing in every direction once coitus is over and top it all off to make sure we either took our "pill", put in the diaphragm or put condoms in the drawer in case he didn't come packing.  Now the men.  What do they do?  They merely have to take off their clothes.  Next is the sex itself.  Men must've been brought up being told (or watched too much porn) that us women love our boobs being man handled to the point of pain.  Believe it or not, it isn't sexy or enjoyable when you treat them like air hockey strikers (those round things you use to hit the puck around the air hockey table).  Kissing them, maybe a bit of nibbling is good but don't scar them for life.  We already have to get the twins squished down to pancakes once a year for a mammogram and it is no trip to IHOP I tell you.  By the way (another side bar) boobs are really just fat.  That's right you heard me, FAT.  There is some irony to be had here.  What I've found in the dating world is that men want a thin woman with big boobs. They are turned off by fat yet the main feature (boobs) they are looking for are nothing but fat (and in some cases, silicone).  Random thought I know, but one to sip wine on and ponder nonetheless.  Okay where were we?  Oh right, drinking and discussing sex.  So after the breast squishing, men usually think they've accomplished four play and dive into the holiest of holes.  Now, missionary is the more common position and in fact, my favorite because there is something so sexy about the weight of the man you're attracted to being on top of you and being face to face breathing each other in while enjoying the pure ecstasy.  Men argue that it's a lazy position for the woman but what they don't realize is that it isn't all that lazy.  We have to spread our legs according to the size of the guy.  Our hips spread to abnormal widths and at times, we have to bring our feet up to our heads.  Believe it or not, we don't do that in normal every day life unless it's for the Cirque De Solei shows.  Guys ask us to get on top of them and straddle them like horses then ride them into the sunset.  Again, not the easiest thing and a bit of work.  We are basically on our knees, using the quads we never knew we had to help us slide up and down on your man pole.  There is no perfect place for our hands so we have to balance our bodies with our core.  Then you men take the opportunity to grab our boobs and squeeze the life out of them all the while we are working out as if at the gym to please you.  Lastly, one of the other main and popular positions is the one and only doggy style position.  Oh I can't tell you what a turn on it is to be screwed the same way our beloved furry pets are.  We are on our hands and knees, staring at a headboard while we get pounded, hoping we don't knock our foreheads into a wall so hard we get a concussion.  There's also the  occasional whoopsie when you boys "accidentally" pull out then go to shove it back in but miss and try diving in to the poop shoot. 
"Sorry babe I slipped."  
"You slipped???  Your slip has now given me not only pain in my ass but the oh so joyful feeling that I have to crap."
Ladies, I would also be aware that you might have a urinary tract infection because Mr. Whoopsie just put his wiener in your butt then back into your vagina.  Not sexy boys.  It's disgusting, wrong and expensive after the trip to the doctor and prescription for antibiotics along with infrequent urination, cramping and burning.   So if you insist of fucking us like Fido, then keep it in the designated hole.

The other component to the topic of sex is communication.  There are a few branches to this tree so keep up.

What I find so fascinating about sexual communication is that it seems easier to fuck one another rather than discuss it.  God forbid we actually tell each other what we like or dislike.  Imagine (women) that you have a horrible gag reflex to the point that you have to watch TV while you brush your teeth just to keep your mind off the toothbrush in your mouth so you don't vomit?    Now you meet Mr. Right (now) and you are turned on, hop into the sack and the first thing he does is pull his boner out and grab the back of your head directing you to suck on it?  "He's so good looking and his last name sounds so good with my first name so we could get married so I need to just do it and power through".   So you suck it up (so to speak) and take it in.  Oh no, here it comes, the gagging!!  So you move your mouth towards the tip (yes we girls can play that game too) and then use one of your hands to work the shaft while you do as little as possible with your mouth otherwise you will puke all over his genitals and no more future wedding.  Hopefully this is just four play and not the entire act because if he erupts and doesn't even give you the oh so seductive tap on the head as your warning, you are getting a mouthful and no matter how many sweets he eats or pineapple juice he has ingested (that's a myth) it tastes like bleach and salt.  If anyone says they like the taste, they are lying.  So if the shlong hitting your tonsils didn't make you throw up, the unexpected burst of semen will.  There is a flip side to this as well.  Say you like pleasuring a man with your mouth but you don't want him to play out the grand finale down your throat, then what do you do?  Oh no, you might have to communicate this!!  What do you say?  It's pretty easy.  Whether you initiate it to be playful or he just grabs your head and thrusts, you really need to speak up.  It doesn't have to be a serious sit down dinner but it can be easy.  "Babe, I enjoy getting you excited by sucking on you a little but once you are really hard, put it in me".  That's right, take charge!  If he insists that he wants to make his O face at your expense, simply tell him that you'd rather not but it's far more sexy to take that bone and put it in you.  Now, if he acts like a child and gets mad over it, show baby boy the door because ladies, you have just met a grown child and his tantrums won't only be in the bedroom.  Then pat yourself on the back, treat yourself to a glass of wine and relish in the fact that you just dodged a bullet.  This advice goes for the men as well.  If you are a man who doesn't really get off on the almighty BJ perhaps due to a bad experience with teeth biting down or it's simply not your thing, then tell us.  Trust me, we won't be upset by it. 

With all that said, the next misstep in sexual communication is the sex itself.   There are so many positions to be had when it comes to penetration but that doesn't mean you try to do them all the first night we sleep with you.  Don't get on us then try to flip us over, then on our sides, then against the wall and onto the floor for rug burns just because you watch this done in porn.  Sure, we all enjoy quickies, strong forceful sex randomly, long passionate love making or trying to get away with it in the pool surrounded by others hoping they don't notice but there is no deadline.  Not all of it has to be accomplished the first time.  We have to find our groove with you.  Once you are hitting that spot, the last thing we want is for you to pull out, wrangle us over and try from a new angle.  Boom!  We have now lost our female boner and have to start over.  Hang out in the area, let us enjoy the moment and more than that, let us woman have the almighty orgasm.  Very hard to accomplish when we are running from one position to the next.  Trust me.  If we have a good time and you do us right, we will be back for more.  However, if you are trying to win a triathlon in bed, we probably won't sign up for the next race.  Just talk to each other!  There is no sexier four play than actually talking about what you want or what you'd like to do to one another.  Isn't it funny how we can sit across from each other sharing stories of our fucked up childhood, divulge our history of law breaking yet we can't look in the eyes of that same person and say, "I love it when you wake me in the night and get on top of me and go for it."   Trust me, this is hot.  Imagine the man you think about all the time tells you how sexy you are when kiss him between his thighs to get him going and spontaneously straddle his lap while he's on the couch?  It isn't a critique, it is a compliment.  Plus, you are getting what you want without offending the other person or getting his dick shoved down your esophagus.  Boom! 
That deserves a drink. 

Here is when the Earth vs. Uranus comes into play.  Women find it sexy to be told by their man that they love when the woman does this, that and the other to them.  Men get told that we would rather do this or that then suddenly we have killed their erections and offended their manhood.  Granted, the female race has been accused of talking too much but wouldn't it make more sense to be open and honest about the big bang (that magical thing that we actually have in common)?  Don't just stick it in her anus (see what I did there), tell her that it's something you like or want to try.   Either she is open to it or she has good reason not to do it.  So now there is the option to opt out of the ride down the anal highway or call Uber and hop on in.  Please, please, please do not just be going at it from behind then think that this would be a good time to pop it in.  Trust me, that never ends well for either of you. 
If you are someone who gets wet at the simple act of kissing, then tell the one you are with.  Show me a partner who wouldn't be excited by this piece of knowledge.  So what's the point of saying this or anything?  Because then you get more of it.  See!  Communicating what you like can actually get you it. 

Hell, all this wisdom makes me thirsty.  Hold please...

Okay so I have given some strong examples of why communication is so important but why do I think that men are from Uranus and Women are from earth?  I believe that men are afraid to express their feelings because they are raised that way.  Be tough, suck it up, don't cry bla bla bla.  Girls are brought up crying, playing out acts with their dolls, hormones with periods that make us ride an emotional roller coaster every month etc...  So here we are as adults still acting the same way.  Instead of dolls, us women still play with things in our heads and over analyze, we have a season pass to the monthly period ride and cry at commercials.   Men are still roughing each other up, sucking up their emotions and would rather get hit in the head with a bat than have anyone see him cry.  This leads to men doing the shit they have built up in their minds despite the consequences and women are either talking about it until they are blue in the face or over think it then too afraid to speak up in fear that they will lose their man.  But what do these planets have in common?  They share the same atmosphere.  We all share the same space. 
Above all, we are all human.  We have feelings, wants, needs, pleasures and fears.  Guess what?  It's okay to talk about likes and dislikes without arguing.  It is possible to share with each other and have it turn out just fine or even better.  So do it.  Be different, step outside of your own box of constant worry and let's talk.  It's okay that the sexes are different just don't forget that we are also still the same in this crazy atmosphere of space.

Cheers my friends!

Sunday, May 15, 2016

Table for 3

Do you ever just sit back and wonder (while drinking wine), what is the point?  I find myself doing this a lot lately.  Not just the wine drinking, but pondering the meaning of my life.  More specifically, I think about the amount of dates, relationships and natural disasters I have encountered as an adult.  Let's be honest, anything before the legal drinking age just doesn't count.  I like to think that I am wiser and more aware of the bullshit after each failure but somehow one seems to slip right by me.  Then after a series of emotions, dates, energy and sex, I remember why I should've stayed single.  The best foot forward mysteriously goes back to its original starting position and I learn that Mr. Wonderful is just Mr. Wolf in sheep's clothing.  So naturally I tell myself to stay single because the players change but the game does not. 
While on this trajectory of self discovery, I think I've finally realized why I go through this over and over again.  (I'm entering the deep end of the pool so strap on some water wings and fill that glass.)  At the end of the day, we all want to matter.  We want to be loved.  We want to feel supported.  Bottom line is that we just want to feel like our lives mean something.  It isn't just the wine talking, I am going somewhere with this.  Trust me. 
My last relationship was probably one of the biggest mistakes I have ever made in my adult dating life.  I can't stand when people say that there are no regrets, no mistakes but only lessons.  I call bullshit.  My last one was nothing but a big fat heifer of a mistake.  This lad, Mike, was younger than me and knew exactly the way into my life.   He used a hefty dose of flattery, showed a need for me, told me everything I wanted to hear and most of all, he made me laugh.  His story was that he was leaving his current girlfriend who he lived with bla bla bla so I was merely just his friend at first.   Then after he left her, we started seeing each other.  I felt like I had met a best friend and boyfriend all in one.  Not to mention he was also in the entertainment business.  So what could be wrong with this scenario?  Two words:  RED FLAGS!
Sweet mother, I need to grab the bottle before I go any deeper into this!   I suggest you do the same because as they say, shit is about to get real.
Mike rented a room from a family member since leaving his ex and while I was there one night in his living room waiting to go out to dinner, he handed me his phone to show me a photo.  A text popped up from a girl saying "Hey hey sweetheart."  Immediately I asked who she was and he said that it was one of the girls he used to hook up with online and then said he will reply letting her know he has a girlfriend now and wouldn't be appropriate to hookup/chat anymore.  She replied with a brief response that was sort of like a "Fuck you".  In my mind I thought he squashed it, no big deal.  So we moved on from it.  As things progressed, we took a trip out of town together to enjoy some snow and catch a play.  That evening in the hotel room, we had taken in too much wine and after a romp in the sack, we laid there talking.  It was more like a question and answer session.  He asked a deep question about myself then I would reciprocate.  Somehow, the conversation turned into him telling me that he had once received a blow job from another man.   (That flag is a waving)  A gay friend who is married in fact.  Needless to say, my reaction was not savory.  I was shocked and immediately asked if he was gay, bi or going to do it again.  He got very angry at my reaction and stomped around the room like a child having a tantrum.  He then got into the other bed and said that he shouldn't have said anything and expected me to be more kind and supportive about it.  Oh and the kicker is that he did this in his ex girlfriends living room while she was at work.  Needless to say, the ride home the following day was awkward.  I asked him why he did it.  He said he was hanging with "said friend" and the friend said he could see that Mike was "big" through his shorts and wanted to see for himself.  So naturally Mike showed him (why wouldn't you show off your penis to a gay friend) and then one thing lead to another and wouldn't you know it, his friend just started giving him head.  While telling me this, I could tell he was very embarrassed and I just somehow told myself that maybe it's like when you experiment in college.  He didn't go to college, so maybe that was his "moment".  Okay, conversation over and time to move on.  No no no, not so fast.  The next week he didn't call, text or have much to say if I initiated conversation.  Finally he said that he was mad that I was judgemental and acted shocked.  Somehow we moved passed it and all was well.
As time went on, things were going great.  We did everything together.  We shared great nights out with our friends, attended events and did acting gigs together.  I helped get him booked as well as introduced him to a lot of my contacts in the business which in turn, got him a lot more work in film.  He was going on a trip to spend a week with friends in Chicago and decided the night before he left, he wanted me to meet his mother.  BOOM!  Big moment right?  His mom was his world and he took me to meet her.  It went great.  During the evening, she was on her laptop showing me old pics of Mikey and with her Facebook open, she received a friend request from a girl who knew Mike.  His mom pipes up asking why she keeps hounding her and who is she??  Our little boy looked like a deer caught in headlights.  Bright eyed and stunted, he explained that she was an old friend and was always bothering him and to ignore her.  That wonderful female instinct kicked in telling me that there was something more to the story.  So I took a mental picture of her name and later in the evening while on the couch watching TV, I looked her up online.  I found her public page on Instagram and there were all these posts depicting love for someone and then the one posted that night was something about how loving someone who ignores you is painful or some crap like that.  That clever girl used a hashtag with his name in it.  Oh but wait, looking back at all these love quotes, his name is always used in them.  Well shit!   I felt myself turning a brilliant shade of red (sort of like Merlot) and getting so upset that I could barely breathe.  While cheater is blissfully watching some crap show about food (the usual viewing in his home) he must've caught wind of my onset of anxiety and anger as I was typing a comment on this girls latest post about "being ignored."  I simply wrote, "I'm sorry he is ignoring you but we were busy fucking."  Then I looked up from my phone and yelled out, "WHO THE HELL IS THIS???"  Remember that deer in headlights look I mentioned from earlier in the evening?  Well this time it was the deer in headlights then struck by a very large vehicle expression.  He started asking questions about how did I know her and what did I know etc...  He kept demanding to give him my phone.  I said I knew that they were sleeping together and he was disgusting and I was out.  I stormed out of his house in a rage and somewhere between the front door and my car, I threw my big full bottle of water at him.  He followed me trying to explain that she was someone he also saw while he and I first dated and she was still attached.  I knew there was a lot of garbage to that explanation and I continued to scream at him demanding he tell me the truth.  He finally admitted that they had slept together while we were together.  So I left and told him to go to hell.  While he was in Chicago, I took off to California and spent a few days at the beach.  Sand, wine and tears filled with anger.  I came home and a few days later, I received a text in the middle of the night.  Mike had written me a long apology and poem via text while he was still away.  We spoke the next day and I agreed to hear him out when he returned.  There it was, my moment of weakness.  Truth was, I missed my friend.  I missed the one who I spent nearly everyday with and enjoyed my life with so I thought it wouldn't hurt to sit and talk.  WRONG!  He suckered me right back in.  We agreed to a fresh start and to put it behind us.  Yep, I was an idiot.  I own that. 
Sorry, that bottle went fast!  Must pop open another... hold please.
Needless to say, that new start proved to be the way to go.  We got closer and seemed to be happier than ever.  Even I was sickened by how "cute" we were.  He ended up losing his full time job and couldn't stay at his uncles house anymore so I took him in.  I realized while spending our lives together under the same roof that he was always on his phone.  I mean ALWAYS.  So I did what any good spy, I mean girlfriend, would do.  I pretended to act interested in what he was constantly doing.  He showed me his Instagram and then I took the phone and looked at what sort of people he followed.  They were all bodybuilders, gym buffs and men in general.  Red Flag!  I asked if he knew these people and he said no but it was motivation to get really fit.  Wait, what is that?  Oh it's that familiar smell of feces from a bull.  This only made my suspicions to grow and so while he would shower and leave his phone unattended, I would dig into his life.  I found many texts from his blow job buddy Alan, wanting to meet and connect.  I found emails where he was responding to ads online for male escorts for a men for men only service.  I found photos of women with penises.  I also discovered his Skype account where he talks to men.  He would jerk off with them online then agree to meet up with them in person. RED FLAG!  No wait, that was more like me holding the red cape while facing a bull in an arena.   I basically discovered a life that I didn't know existed that belonged to a guy I was sharing my life with.  I stayed quiet for the day (due to shock) and then that evening on our way to dinner, I asked to stop by the park and let's sit and talk.  We did just that.  I wanted to flip out.  I wanted to blurt out my discoveries.  I wanted to kick him in the dick.  Instead, I calmly asked him if there were things going on in his life that I should know.  He said no.  I asked if he still spoke to or saw Alan.  He said that they were friends but that's it.  Okay, this was going nowhere.  We left and I was suddenly faced with shock, sadness and the dilemma of what to do and how to do it.  I couldn't keep this up anymore.  The next morning I got up early for work, got dressed and when I went to leave, he woke up and insisted on kissing me goodbye.  What he didn't know was that I was crying the entire morning.  During that afternoon I called him and he was at my home on the internet.  I asked if he was online looking for work and he said not yet.  I snapped.  Him being on the internet must've been Skype sexing, jerking off to chicks with dicks or searching for a way to make money by looking at naked men.   I told him to pack up and I was on my way home.  I arrived and we went at it.  I called him every name in the book and said that he was a homo and needed to get the hell out of my life.  That didn't go well.  He got physical and thought it was a good idea to punish me for the way I was now treating him.  There was smacking, yelling, bending me over and trying to take charge of a situation that he had lost all control of.  He left.  He took his things and walked out.  Needless to say, I was struck by that bull after all. 
After many nights that ended in Xanax and wine, I picked myself up and moved on.  While away for work one week, my phone kept ringing and it was his mother.  I finally picked up only to hear her yelling at me to put her son on the phone.  I laughed and asked what she was talking about.  She swore up and down that he was with me and I assured her that I was nowhere near him nor would I be.  She said he had gone missing.  She begged me to help her find him as she was worried.  So I made a few calls and thought to call the hospital closest to his house.  Sure enough, they said he had just been discharged and because of the sensitive nature, that's all they could say.  Turns out, the idiot tried to kill himself (on my birthday) and didn't succeed.  A small part of me was sad but the bigger part of me was pissed off.  I called his mother back and told her.  She flipped her lid and wanted to know if I was lying and what happened.  All she knew is I kicked him out and left him with nothing.  Of course that's what he told her!  So now I am a very unhappy camper and decide to spill it.  I told her everything.  She cried and kept screaming that her only child couldn't be gay and how she wants to be a Grandmother one day.  I had enough and wanted out of this mess so I said I was hanging up and would send her copies of texts between him and I where he admits to the abuse, the homosexual behavior and why it ended.   D O N E.  His dirt was off of my hands.  I told her to go help her son and please leave me out of it.  That was it.  Happy Birthday to me.  I went back to my hotel, got boozed up and sat in the hot tub.  I met a lovely young guy while baking in the giant tub who was a gay male prostitute and serviced his Orange County clients at that hotel.  Okay, party over and back to room I went.
Post birthday debacle, I spent many days and nights wondering how I could've been so stupid.  How could I be so blind and let this happen under my nose?  How could I be so happy and it turned out to be a lie?  Was he just using me to help with money, career and at the end, a place to live?  Was he that desperate to take advantage of my heart?  Was I that desperate to feel loved and happy?  One day I was sitting in the park near my house with my beloved dog who was happily chasing her Frisbee and it hit me (a revelation not the Frisbee).  I could literally feel the weight of the answer cover me like a blanket.  It wasn't any of those things.  It was me.  I liked the feeling of being needed.  I liked the joy I got out of spending my time with my best friend and lover.  I adored the simple affection like a kiss on the forehead or squeezing my hand in the car.  I loved that someone listened to me and showed interest in my life.  Overall, I was happy with feeling that I mattered.  Somehow I equated the relationship with being validated.  Truth be told, I was always laboring under the idea that he was being dishonest.  Since I found out about his exploratory tryst the year before, I was always suspicious but talked myself out of it in exchange for comfort I had and the smile I kept finding on my face. 
So what the fuck is my point?  What am I going on about exactly?  It is so simple.  We get into relationships and fight for them when we know they are headed straight off a cliff.  We strap ourselves into the car and ride along watching the dead end sign approach us but we don't get out.  We do it because in that car, we aren't alone.  We matter.  We feel like we found our other half, our missing piece.  It's that thing that makes us feel whole.  Now that this happened, I have sorted out that I was never needing my other half because I am not a half.  All this time spent alone has made me realize that I am whole and it isn't an unhealthy relationship that validates my life.  I have to make my own life matter.  So I go on and love those who love me, albeit the list is quite short, but the most important thing I do is learn how to continue to love myself (and wine).  I am a work in progress, hell we all are, but now that I know that a relationship won't validate my life, I am happy.  Sure it gets lonely at times and no dates to accompany me to a wedding or a movie, but I am investing in myself.  When the time is right, I will meet someone who looking for and can appreciate the woman who loves herself, confident and honest with who she is and what she deserves.  If I want flowers right now, I will buy them.  If I want to see a film at the theater, I just go.  I am simply not a half because I go alone. 
Okay so you might say that I have contradicted myself in saying that mistakes aren't lessons, but the truth is, Mike was a Titanic sized mistake.  I am learning more about myself, people, relationships, friends, family and what matters.  I won't attribute that to his sorry confused lying ass, no.  I take the credit for realizing that my life is merely validated by my own heart and what I give. 
So order the dessert, dance like a fool regardless of who is watching, explore, laugh, be honest, love and most importantly, never drink stale wine.  
Oh and if you thought Mr. Charming pants couldn't get worse...wrong!  Turns out he knocked up Ms. Lonely Heart of Instagram while we were together.   
 CHEERS loser!  


Monday, September 22, 2014

(N)ot (F)or (L)ong

Wasn't it Ferris Bueller who said, "Life moves pretty fast.  If you don't stop and look around once and awhile, you could miss it."?  Well Ferris, you're not wrong!  It seems like someone has flipped a switch on my life over the last two years.  As soon as I quit my safe comfortable career and took a chance and dedicated my life to reality TV (UGH), things have been moving in fast forward.  I went from a very predictable life complete with bi weekly paychecks, beer drinking at the local pub at night, sleeping in on Sundays to then 6-8 hours a day of workouts, eating less calories than you can fathom and cameras in your face wanting you to share with the world those deep dark secrets that you've worked so hard to hide.  Once the cameras and crew leave, it's not over.  No no, then you sit and wait to see what kind of joke they've turned your life into and then air it for the world to see.  After you chug a Big Gulp of Merlot and realize that what you signed up to do, worked your ass off for and poured your heart into has now been blended up and shown as a big pile of dramatic crap designed for ratings.  Hmmm... that's about as settling as fermented wine.  It's not over yet because suddenly people want to know you and depending on how the story aired, you can get loads of haters, creepers and all sorts of arrogant fucks who feel that they now know you and can say anything they want.  Thank you social media. 

Woah!  All that ranting can get a gal thirsty.  Before I take a swig (or two) of my grapey goodness, please share in a toast with me:

Dear Haters, until you've climbed 112 flights of stairs to the top of the Stratosphere weighing 385lbs in an hour and a half, lunged across the Hoover Dam Bridge in the middle of August in 115 degree heat weighing 298lbs for 3 hours, dropped in the desert in the middle of summer and told to find your way home (and did), or stood in your bra and underwear sweating like a pig and fat as hell all the while with cameras in your face, then keep your ridiculous comments to yourself and just do me a favor and shut up.

...clinging glasses...CHEERS!

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, let me get back to my point(and story).  In the middle of all of the new chaos, I also managed to do some dating.  Not much, but some.  I have also been able to participate in a few films, commercials and TV shows (not reality).  While on set of a movie, I met a former NFL player who immediately charmed the pants right off me.  It's not what you are thinking.  He didn't say "Hi, my name is Jackson...now drop and give me 20!".  He actually complimented me, called me beautiful and did those kind gestures like pull out my chair that just really melt my butter.  After all of the name calling, on camera arguments and overall degrading of my soul I had just gone through with the reality show, it was a breath of fresh air to be treated so kindly.  I ate it up!  At first glance, I was attracted to him.  Tall, Italian, tattoos, nice build but I had no idea he was a former pro baller (not balla).  We ended up working together for a few weeks and since we were on set for 12 hours plus a night, it allowed for plenty of time to talk and get to know each other.  One night we were walking to get something to eat and someone approached him asking about his football career.   Once they finished their conversation, I learned that he used to play professionally for many years as a tight end and as luck would have it, he actually had a very tight end.  Touchdown for Christy!  During dinner, I decided to share with him the experience I had recently gone through with the show.  It was interesting exchanging our adventures as neither one of us had any idea what it was like for the other.  I mean, I had never befriended or dated an NFL'er and he had never known a weight loss reality participant so it was actually interesting and there was a lot to learn about the other.  We couldn't stop talking!  We both seemed intrigued by what the other had to say.  Things were going so well that nothing could've interrupted my current state of bliss... eeeeeeer screeeetch crash boom!
That's right, pump the brakes. 

Before I continue, I must refill my jug, umm I mean glass, and add this disclaimer:

- I like kids, babies, toddlers, pre teens and a few select teenagers. 
- I don't begrudge anyone for having kids although I cannot believe that some of the morons in this world do procreate.  Some people can't find their way out of an box but yet they manage to have kids.  Oh how I wish natural selection occurred in humans or we at least could enforce sterilization in the hopelessly stupid.
- At this stage of the game, I am well aware that most men have kids.  The only way I will find a man without them is to attend freshmen orientation at the local university and even that is no longer a guarantee thanks to shows like Teen Mom.

The locker room shenanigans, on the field drama, player scandals and all of the behind the scenes secrets that he shared were fascinating to me.  I just love hearing about those things that I know nothing about!  In the midst of throwing the football, he also managed to get married.  Okay, now my ears are perfectly perked!  He continued on about their relationship and how once they had kids it all went downhill.  So what do you do when your marriage fails because you had children?  You get married to wife number two and have a few more.  Turns out, he was so good at getting married and having kids that he did it a third time and ended up with 8 kids total.  I had to hand it to him, he managed to get married then divorce 3 times, fertilize a bunch of eggs and father 8 kids while sustaining a long pro football career.  Bravo buddy!  Someone hand this guy the Heisman trophy.  By the time he finished sharing his autobiography with me, I was exhausted.  That was a lot to digest and I hadn't even touched my meal. 

After we wrapped that morning, I said goodbye to him and got in my car to go home and catch a bit of sleep before returning to set that night.  I got to bed feeling exhausted but couldn't turn my mind off.  I meet this guy and we hit it off but how in the world could we date?  It gets challenging enough trying to fit into a single father's life when he has one ex wife and a child or two but Jackson has 3 ex wives and 8 children.  I was once heavily involved with a man who had his son full time and we never had alone time and our relationship revolved around his son.  That was a lot of work!  I grew to love his son and if our relationship was going to work, I would have to so thankfully I did.  Eventually we parted ways because he was giving it to his ex whore wife while I was at home with his little boy doing homework.  Another story, another time.  Now that I know just how much commitment and time goes into children, rather dating men with them, I just can't fathom how it could possibly work with 8 kids.  Granted, we were spending lots of time together on set but he had to hire babysitters and get the ex wives to help watch them all.  This was all planned out because it was in fact a job but I just can't believe that he could organize all of that for him and I to grab a movie or a meal.  Could you imagine him asking wives 1-3 if they could keep all 8 kids one night so we could get busy in the sack?  Nope, me neither.

I got to set that night and we had a few hours in holding so we got to chat.  He managed to bring up his birthday that was just around the corner and suggested we go out and celebrate.  As nice as I could, I asked him if that was possible with all of his clan at home?  He assured me that since it was his birthday he could wrangle enough childcare for the night.  That led to me asking him if we should see each other after our work was done and he said "Of course!  This isn't just a fling for me.  I want to get to know you better and see what can happen."  In my realistic mind, I thought it was a nice thing to say but just didn't know how in the world we would ever have time together.  I had to give the lad credit for his optimism though. 

Our parts had finally wrapped and now it was time to test drive dating in the real world.  We text mostly with the occasional phone call late at night and he set up his birthday festivities with me for the following week.  He said he had childcare in place and nothing was going to get in the way of having fun.  The following week rolled around and I sent a text asking how his day was blah blah blah with no response.  Let's jus say that I did not get a response for two weeks.  Nothing.  At first I was worried but then I just told myself that he is a guy and probably just blew me off.  I was a bit pissed off about it but hey, life goes on. 

Three weeks after the last time I had heard from him, I decided to shoot him a text.  I wrote "If you are blowing me off then have the balls to tell me.  If not and something is wrong, let me know.  Either way, man up and say something."  Ding ding ding!  I got a response!  He said "I am sorry.  I had to travel out of state for an emergency with my ex wife and I am on my way back.  It has been hectic so I haven't had time to text you."   I sat on that for a few minutes then text this, "I am sorry that there was an emergency and I hope all is well.  For future reference, texting someone takes less than a minute and despite how busy you are, you can at least have the decency to send one even if you have to do it while taking a crap on the toilet."   He said he was sorry and I never replied.  That was really all I needed to solidify what I had been thinking all along.  This guy, regardless of how great I thought he was, had too much going on in his life with exes and kids.  Do I think less of him for having that many?  No.  It just doesn't work for me.  Besides, I think that seeing as how I have never been married and unable to have kids automatically disqualifies me to be with him.

Despite that bump in the road, my life is still continuing to go in fast forward.   Regardless of the speed it's going in, I always make time for my dogs, wine and the occasional 80's movie.


Sunday, June 15, 2014

Just Do It....Or Not

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

Can't Buy Me Love

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 Gew├╝rztraminer 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!