That Girl has had several busy weeks in a row and finally decided that it was time to take a mini road trip to see friends and remember what it's like to love the shit out of life for a weekend. So, like the ol' Cheers adage goes, I wanted to "go where everybody knows your name". So I did. And it was awesome. You can't plan weekends like this one. I spent part of the day with the ones I love the most, playing with the kids, shopping with my sister and enjoying a bit of normalcy.
Come sundown though, it was time for beers and debauchery. Lots and lots of debauchery. I wanted a night that wouldn't soon be forgotten and that's exactly what I got. Starting at one bar, I was greeted by friends I hadn't seen in months with comments about how good I look. It was a giant step up from a bar with Big Mac. Got my beers and my girls, what more do you need, right?
The night got interesting as we hopped from bar to bar. Finally settling in our favorite watering hole, I find myself sitting next to an old friend from the summer of Special K. You see, that summer was an experiment with ketamine and a wide range of hallucinogenics and coed softball. Dub as I will refer to him, was a much welcome blast from the past! As we reminisced and caught up, Dub, who was double fisting it, knocked me on my ass and took my breath away.
"What are you doing these days, Dub?"
"I'm leaving for Afghanistan tomorrow," he said.
"Really? Wow. That's too bad."
"You should have sex with me. I mean, I'm leaving for Afghanistan tomorrow. You could be the last woman I ever have sex with. It's, like, your patriotic duty! It would be un-American of you NOT to have sex with me! Are you an American?!"
I laughed so hard, saluted him, said God Bless America, spread my legs under the booth and said, "Well, in that case, climb on in!" It had to be one of the best pick up lines ever. And it was definitely classic Dub.
As the bar closed, we found ourselves in the parking lot trying to figure out plans for the rest of the evening. Dub invited us back to his friend Skippy's house for more beers. We kindly obliged. As the hours moved on, the moon moved past and the beers dwindled, our laughs became louder, the jokes better and the bond stronger. These are the nights that I miss living in the city. In that small town, there's always a porch to sit on in the dark and watch the stars crawl slowly by as the trains whistle in the distance.
Sitting at Skippy's, I came out of the bathroom to find TJ, another flake from the summer of Special K, sitting in my lawn chair. After hugs and high fives and a few quick quips from the past, we continued our socialization and antics.
"Hey, come here for a second," TJ said, not moving from his lawn chair.
I walked over and bent down next to his chair as he motioned me closer, as if he had a secret to tell.
"Can I just see, like, one of your nipples?" he asked with a straight face, cigarette dangling from his lips.
"No! I am a classy lady!" I quipped.
"I know you are, that's why I asked discreetly and I just meant me, not everybody else." TJ's logic was flawless. He had me there. But Skippy had heard. Skippy announced it, told TJ to leave me alone and we all had a good laugh, a hearty laugh, the kind that makes your cheeks hurt.
TJ's antics, Dub's commentary and the additional beers culminated in even more pick up lines. My heart was truly won over when Skippy asked if he could "bruise my bladder later". I laughed so hard, I nearly peed my pants!
Slowly the crowd faded away. One by one, taxis arrived, couches were found, short drives were made and I found myself sitting on the stoop with Skippy enjoying the last of my now luke warm beer. We talked about music, being middle children, our siblings, and what seems like a million more single sentence conversations. Before I knew it, the sky began to turn a deep turquoise-lavender. A train rolled by a few blocks away blowing it's whistle loud enough to break our speech and stop our lips. It was in that moment that we found ourselves in one of those awkward moments of direct eye contact, the kind where you can feel the kinetic connection, the kind where you feel like your touching but you're not... the kind where your breaths synchronize themselves but your heart beats take on a mind of their own.
Skippy leaned in, gently grabbed my chin, and kissed me. The next moments were lost until the train whistle stopped and was replaced by birds chirping. I opened my eyes and it was light. The sun was coming up. That morning, I laid myself softly down in Skippy's bed. We continued to make out for what seemed like hours. As I traced the tattoo on his right bicep with my finger, I felt a roughness. I could tell it was a scar.
"What story does this tell?" I asked him quietly.
"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked.
"I want to know it all." I replied.
"Have you ever heard of the USS Cole?" he said quietly. I could feel his heart racing through his chest as it laid on top of mine.
At 20 years old, Skippy was serving in the US Navy when the ship was bombed. He still has shrapnel in his arm and memories, more like nightmares, burned forever in his brain.
Skippy kissed me again and again. It was that kind of making out that makes your whole body tingle, that removes every stress, every insecurity, and fills every bit of time and space.
Skippy called last night to see if I made it home okay, to see when I was coming back and to tell me that he missed my lips. I know, that this night will never happen again, but the memory of it all is enough to keep me smiling for at least the next few days. Besides, who needs a hamburger when you've got peanut butter? I'll take the Skippy's of the world over the Big Macs any day.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Want some fries with that shake?
That Girl had an incredibly surreal experience this past week as she went on her first blind date with someone that she met from the internet. Yes, apparently, wish and you shall receive. As I stated in my last blog posting, I was going to give myself 83 more days to go on a date. Well, only a few days later, I found myself having a drink with the Big Mac. You'll find out why I call him that momentarily.
First, allow me to regress and tell you what had been going on prior to this encounter. See, in the month that I've been on this dating site, I spent a few nights on the phone with W. telling her "bedtime stories" which consisted of me describing the photos of the creepers and crazies and then deciding that a few were cute enough to send a virtual wink to. Okay, I'm not gonna lie... I winked the shit out of the internet that night just to see the responses that I would get. I didn't get much but I did get one... Big Mac.
Big Mac sent me an email that was incredibly well written, formatted properly, and was quite interesting! I might add that this email arrived around the same time that I encountered "Rope Fiend" (see previous posts) so receiving this email left me both skeptical and a little anxious. I responded to his email by answering all of his questions about me and inquiring about the attributes and interests that he had shared with me. After a few emails back and forth, Big Mac asked for my phone number and since technology allows me to block creepers... I said, what the hell and emailed him back with my number. After all, you only live once and lately, I haven't been really living life as much as I've been watching it happen around me.
The night that he called me, I let it go to voice mail. I wanted to see if his voice sounded like Mike Tyson on helium before being caught off guard. His voice was deep, not quite like Marvin Gaye's but soothing. His words were well enunciated, crisp and relaxed all at the same time. I called him back a little while later and we talked for over an hour. We talked about our jobs, touched lightly on past relationships as he openly divulged that he is divorced (married his high school sweetheart and best friend of 20 years... decided they were better friends than lovers... it was really quite a touching story), and joked about politics and current events.
"So what it is that you do?" I asked.
"I'll give you a hint, I work for the world's largest corporation and you drove by 5 of them on the way to work today."
"Walmart?" I asked... slightly hesitant.
"No. You stink at the guessing game."
"I'm brain dead... it's 9:30pm and I've been at work on the phone all day."
"I work for McDonald's."
cricket. cricket. cricket.
"Oh, what do you do there?" I asked forcing a bit of intrigue into my words.
"Drive-thru in the morning and fries in the afternoon."
cricket. cricket. fuck me. cricket.
"I'm kidding!" he said. "I'm in charge of blah blah blah. I have a very important blah blah blah." You can fill in the rest.
I sighed with relief as he spoke about budget projections and all of this other uninteresting business bullshit. But I was still interested... he was interesting.
He asked about my plans for the weekend. I actually had some and they were family obligations so I would feel bad standing them up for a blind date. I was leaving on vacation for a week and he said he'd call when I got back. Oh, and if you didn't figure it out by now asshats, I call him Big Mac because he works at McDonald's.
On countdown day 81, I had a date to meet for drinks at a bar within walking distance to my apartment. I got up early, made sure I looked super cute but not like I was trying. I wore an outfit I've worn before, did my hair the same way I do it all the time and made sure to roll on a little extra deodorant. I made sure I had some cash in my wallet (just in case I needed to take a cab... those heels weren't meant for walking) and headed out to my day. I was running late to the date and texted him as I was leaving work. He said he would get a table.
I'm not going to lie... I was nervous. I haven't had a date like this, with someone I didn't really know, where I hadn't initiated any part of it, since 2001. Seriously.
As I approached the table, I could see he was on his blackberry. He greeted me with... a total stink eye.
"I'll be right with you," he said as he gazed his eyes slowly up and down over me... eyebrows raised, mouth slightly dropped open... as if I had the plague on my face or something.
"It's nice to meet you." I said. He didn't reply.
The next 10 minutes were filled with awkward and mundane conversation regarding my day at work, his day at work. He told me about a project that he had due the next day. I could see through his excuse like Paris Hilton's panties. We had already discussed everything we were talking about... his love of golf, his job, his birthday being right around the corner, his job, his job, oh did I mention we talked about his job?! This was getting painful. The waitress came by to ask about appetizers, he told her we weren't eating. Bitch wanted some bruschetta but apparently, I wasn't hungry.
"So you were at the gym for 2 hours last night?" he asked in utter disbelief.
"Yes, I'm usually at the gym for about an hour and a half 4 days a week," I said.
He looked me up and down, shrugged, huffed and said, "Really." again. Okay, about this time, I wanted to rip the earrings, all 4 of them, out of his ears, but I was really trying to just see what happened. I wasn't going to be rude, it's not fucking classy.
"So you don't eat McDonald's?!" he asked in disbelief again... we've already talked about this. I explained that I try to eat pretty clean, I already have a potty mouth, no need to put a bunch of shit in it. For the next 30 minutes I sat through a sales pitch. 101 reasons why I should eat McDonald's including receiving the profit margins and calorie count of their most popular items.
"Oh, I brought you something," he said as he dug in his pocket. He pulled out 2 cards and handed them to me. I looked at his hands. I always find men's hands to be interesting. You can tell if they are a worker and somehow I think you can see comfort in them. You can see strength. His fingers were short and stubby, his palms ridiculously small. All I could think of was that Burger King commercial and "MY TINY HANDS!" I made sure my mouth was closed and looked up to make sure he hadn't seen my reaction as he handed me what he had pulled from his pocket. I stared in shock at the items in my hands: free coupons for a smoothie and a frappe from none other than McDonald's. fuck me. fuck me. you've got to be fucking kidding me. fuck me.
The waitress came and asked if we would like another round. As much as I was in desperate need of another glass of wine, he again answered for both of us, replying that we are fine and he's going to need to go soon to finish that presentation he has in the morning. Thank dog! I can see the finish line!
The waitress inquired about the check and whether it was together or separate. I can still hear the utterance ringing in my ears like church bell's on a Sunday morning...
"Ummmmm...." he said.
I looked at the waitress who appeared to be in shock and casually replied, "Whatever is easiest for you." She returned with split checks at which I left mine sitting on the table long enough to realize that this asshole was not going to pay for my wine. Just to reiterate... he asked me out and I ended up paying for my own drink. Big Mac is a big douche.
The date began at 6pm and I was home by 7:05pm. I immediately walked to my fridge, pulled out a bottle of wine, popped the cork and opened the cabinet to get a glass. As I was staring at the glass, I realized that I had already pressed the top of the bottle to my lips and proceeded to tip it! That night, I finished the whole bottle, with each sip becoming more appalled at Big Macs behavior. As I slurred myself to sleep that night, I had visions of McChicken's squawking after me.
I woke up in the morning with my eyes nearly swollen shut (it happens with too much wine). Looking at the hot mess of a reflection in the mirror, I told myself that Big Mac could take his free smoothie coupons and suck it.
First, allow me to regress and tell you what had been going on prior to this encounter. See, in the month that I've been on this dating site, I spent a few nights on the phone with W. telling her "bedtime stories" which consisted of me describing the photos of the creepers and crazies and then deciding that a few were cute enough to send a virtual wink to. Okay, I'm not gonna lie... I winked the shit out of the internet that night just to see the responses that I would get. I didn't get much but I did get one... Big Mac.
Big Mac sent me an email that was incredibly well written, formatted properly, and was quite interesting! I might add that this email arrived around the same time that I encountered "Rope Fiend" (see previous posts) so receiving this email left me both skeptical and a little anxious. I responded to his email by answering all of his questions about me and inquiring about the attributes and interests that he had shared with me. After a few emails back and forth, Big Mac asked for my phone number and since technology allows me to block creepers... I said, what the hell and emailed him back with my number. After all, you only live once and lately, I haven't been really living life as much as I've been watching it happen around me.
The night that he called me, I let it go to voice mail. I wanted to see if his voice sounded like Mike Tyson on helium before being caught off guard. His voice was deep, not quite like Marvin Gaye's but soothing. His words were well enunciated, crisp and relaxed all at the same time. I called him back a little while later and we talked for over an hour. We talked about our jobs, touched lightly on past relationships as he openly divulged that he is divorced (married his high school sweetheart and best friend of 20 years... decided they were better friends than lovers... it was really quite a touching story), and joked about politics and current events.
"So what it is that you do?" I asked.
"I'll give you a hint, I work for the world's largest corporation and you drove by 5 of them on the way to work today."
"Walmart?" I asked... slightly hesitant.
"No. You stink at the guessing game."
"I'm brain dead... it's 9:30pm and I've been at work on the phone all day."
"I work for McDonald's."
cricket. cricket. cricket.
"Oh, what do you do there?" I asked forcing a bit of intrigue into my words.
"Drive-thru in the morning and fries in the afternoon."
cricket. cricket. fuck me. cricket.
"I'm kidding!" he said. "I'm in charge of blah blah blah. I have a very important blah blah blah." You can fill in the rest.
I sighed with relief as he spoke about budget projections and all of this other uninteresting business bullshit. But I was still interested... he was interesting.
He asked about my plans for the weekend. I actually had some and they were family obligations so I would feel bad standing them up for a blind date. I was leaving on vacation for a week and he said he'd call when I got back. Oh, and if you didn't figure it out by now asshats, I call him Big Mac because he works at McDonald's.
On countdown day 81, I had a date to meet for drinks at a bar within walking distance to my apartment. I got up early, made sure I looked super cute but not like I was trying. I wore an outfit I've worn before, did my hair the same way I do it all the time and made sure to roll on a little extra deodorant. I made sure I had some cash in my wallet (just in case I needed to take a cab... those heels weren't meant for walking) and headed out to my day. I was running late to the date and texted him as I was leaving work. He said he would get a table.
I'm not going to lie... I was nervous. I haven't had a date like this, with someone I didn't really know, where I hadn't initiated any part of it, since 2001. Seriously.
As I approached the table, I could see he was on his blackberry. He greeted me with... a total stink eye.
"I'll be right with you," he said as he gazed his eyes slowly up and down over me... eyebrows raised, mouth slightly dropped open... as if I had the plague on my face or something.
"It's nice to meet you." I said. He didn't reply.
The next 10 minutes were filled with awkward and mundane conversation regarding my day at work, his day at work. He told me about a project that he had due the next day. I could see through his excuse like Paris Hilton's panties. We had already discussed everything we were talking about... his love of golf, his job, his birthday being right around the corner, his job, his job, oh did I mention we talked about his job?! This was getting painful. The waitress came by to ask about appetizers, he told her we weren't eating. Bitch wanted some bruschetta but apparently, I wasn't hungry.
"So you were at the gym for 2 hours last night?" he asked in utter disbelief.
"Yes, I'm usually at the gym for about an hour and a half 4 days a week," I said.
He looked me up and down, shrugged, huffed and said, "Really." again. Okay, about this time, I wanted to rip the earrings, all 4 of them, out of his ears, but I was really trying to just see what happened. I wasn't going to be rude, it's not fucking classy.
"So you don't eat McDonald's?!" he asked in disbelief again... we've already talked about this. I explained that I try to eat pretty clean, I already have a potty mouth, no need to put a bunch of shit in it. For the next 30 minutes I sat through a sales pitch. 101 reasons why I should eat McDonald's including receiving the profit margins and calorie count of their most popular items.
"Oh, I brought you something," he said as he dug in his pocket. He pulled out 2 cards and handed them to me. I looked at his hands. I always find men's hands to be interesting. You can tell if they are a worker and somehow I think you can see comfort in them. You can see strength. His fingers were short and stubby, his palms ridiculously small. All I could think of was that Burger King commercial and "MY TINY HANDS!" I made sure my mouth was closed and looked up to make sure he hadn't seen my reaction as he handed me what he had pulled from his pocket. I stared in shock at the items in my hands: free coupons for a smoothie and a frappe from none other than McDonald's. fuck me. fuck me. you've got to be fucking kidding me. fuck me.
The waitress came and asked if we would like another round. As much as I was in desperate need of another glass of wine, he again answered for both of us, replying that we are fine and he's going to need to go soon to finish that presentation he has in the morning. Thank dog! I can see the finish line!
The waitress inquired about the check and whether it was together or separate. I can still hear the utterance ringing in my ears like church bell's on a Sunday morning...
"Ummmmm...." he said.
I looked at the waitress who appeared to be in shock and casually replied, "Whatever is easiest for you." She returned with split checks at which I left mine sitting on the table long enough to realize that this asshole was not going to pay for my wine. Just to reiterate... he asked me out and I ended up paying for my own drink. Big Mac is a big douche.
The date began at 6pm and I was home by 7:05pm. I immediately walked to my fridge, pulled out a bottle of wine, popped the cork and opened the cabinet to get a glass. As I was staring at the glass, I realized that I had already pressed the top of the bottle to my lips and proceeded to tip it! That night, I finished the whole bottle, with each sip becoming more appalled at Big Macs behavior. As I slurred myself to sleep that night, I had visions of McChicken's squawking after me.
I woke up in the morning with my eyes nearly swollen shut (it happens with too much wine). Looking at the hot mess of a reflection in the mirror, I told myself that Big Mac could take his free smoothie coupons and suck it.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
83 days.
83 day. 2014 hours. 120,841 minutes. The amount of time until I turn 30. My life will be at least 1/3 of the way over.
I can't even begin to reflect on the last 29 years of my life as it seems as if only the last 5 have meant anything. I've grown so much as a person, changed so much physically, mentally, emotionally... sexually. I keep hearing that 30 is the new 20 and that scares the hell out of me. Pretty sure I should have died during my 20's a few times. And lord knows, I can't party like I used to. I now have to plan two days of recovery for every 1 night of party. My days begin by popping vitamins and mixing protein shakes. My evenings end by applying moisturizer and wrinkle cream. I spent 2 days on the beach... and 2 weeks checking for moles that looked kinda funny.
In the last year, I have had 1 date. Yep, one. And it wasn't even that great of a date. Still trying to shake that bucket of crazy out of my past but he keeps popping up. You may remember A. I'm not even sure that I know how to do this whole "dating" thing. I remember my 8th grade homecoming dance. It was the first time I was going out with a boy but I didn't really think of him as a boy. I had known him since I was 6 years old. We'd been classmates for years. I bought this red glitter shift dress with matching red lipstick. My mom let me wear her gold stud earrings and bought me some pretty black shoes and shiny pantyhose (to suck in all my kid fat and so that I could sound like I was a walking zipper as my pubescent thighs rubbed together with every step that I took). As we were leaving my house that night, I remember my mom looking at me and saying, "Let him hold the door for you." I didn't get it at the time. I didn't get it later than night when he continuously tried to open every door for me but I just kept barging through them like I did every day.
"Let him hold the door for you."
It still didn't really make sense until this year when I realized that I've spent the last 12 years of my life working so hard to do things on my own and my way that I've never let anybody hold the door for me. My mentality has always been that at the end of the day, nobody is looking out for me but me.
83 days.
I'm giving myself 83 days to lose 25 more pounds and to have at least one more date where I let someone hold the door for me. I've been doing this online dating thing for nearly a month now and it's just getting depressing at this point. I've had one nice conversation with one nice guy who asked me to have drinks but hasn't contacted me since. My inbox is filling up with creepers and crazies and nothing promising.
83 days and then what? Just another day I suppose. Or maybe the start of a whole new life. I suppose I'll let the stars decide.
I can't even begin to reflect on the last 29 years of my life as it seems as if only the last 5 have meant anything. I've grown so much as a person, changed so much physically, mentally, emotionally... sexually. I keep hearing that 30 is the new 20 and that scares the hell out of me. Pretty sure I should have died during my 20's a few times. And lord knows, I can't party like I used to. I now have to plan two days of recovery for every 1 night of party. My days begin by popping vitamins and mixing protein shakes. My evenings end by applying moisturizer and wrinkle cream. I spent 2 days on the beach... and 2 weeks checking for moles that looked kinda funny.
In the last year, I have had 1 date. Yep, one. And it wasn't even that great of a date. Still trying to shake that bucket of crazy out of my past but he keeps popping up. You may remember A. I'm not even sure that I know how to do this whole "dating" thing. I remember my 8th grade homecoming dance. It was the first time I was going out with a boy but I didn't really think of him as a boy. I had known him since I was 6 years old. We'd been classmates for years. I bought this red glitter shift dress with matching red lipstick. My mom let me wear her gold stud earrings and bought me some pretty black shoes and shiny pantyhose (to suck in all my kid fat and so that I could sound like I was a walking zipper as my pubescent thighs rubbed together with every step that I took). As we were leaving my house that night, I remember my mom looking at me and saying, "Let him hold the door for you." I didn't get it at the time. I didn't get it later than night when he continuously tried to open every door for me but I just kept barging through them like I did every day.
"Let him hold the door for you."
It still didn't really make sense until this year when I realized that I've spent the last 12 years of my life working so hard to do things on my own and my way that I've never let anybody hold the door for me. My mentality has always been that at the end of the day, nobody is looking out for me but me.
83 days.
I'm giving myself 83 days to lose 25 more pounds and to have at least one more date where I let someone hold the door for me. I've been doing this online dating thing for nearly a month now and it's just getting depressing at this point. I've had one nice conversation with one nice guy who asked me to have drinks but hasn't contacted me since. My inbox is filling up with creepers and crazies and nothing promising.
83 days and then what? Just another day I suppose. Or maybe the start of a whole new life. I suppose I'll let the stars decide.