Monthly Archives: February 2012

Cough, cough, cough…

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My phone rings early… and I’m afraid to see who it is. My phone is a verbal war zone these days.

*- Coffee?

Blink, blink, blink….

Whoa… I was up till 1 giggling with a girlfriend and knitting bunny ears… its 8 AM…

J- Can’t. It’s Mommy week and so… no.

*- That’s cool. Go check the mail.

Lo and behold… there are two lattes in the mailbox. Decaf and high octane, bless his heart.

This unmarried, childless wonder flirtation is quite a bit spectacular.

Little flowers tucked under the wipers on the car. Tipping me twice the total of his tab. Tulips on my doorstep today.

This is a guy determined to be a solution to the problem, not the cause.

If there wouldn’t be a collective swooning I’d be tempted to out him with his beautiful face…. but my closest friends have already grinned at me after seeing it.

He’s determined and I’m resistant. I’ve been through hell in the last month and continue to wake  up to text messages telling me to fuck off. That’s just awesome…. who needs an alarm anyway?

One of my customers came in last night and said “I have the perfect guy for you!!!!!!!!!!’

J- No. No, you don’t. I’m not dating again. I’m on the waiting list for the angora bunny I really want, and a dozen cats. I’d rather curl up in my enormous princess bed with my darling daughter and a few too many baby kittens. That sounds like heaven. No men. Never again.

Ohhh Jenni….

Never say never…

Cause there he is at the end of my driveway when I walk down to get the mail, putting pretty red tulips in the now-empty mailbox… smiling at my feverish flushed cheeks and wrapping his arms around me.

*- You’re so hot…

J- Awww thanks… you too…

*- Flirt. You need to get in bed and go to sleep, do you want me to rent a movie so you can?

And there we have it ladies… the visual proof of the raising of my standards. He can see I’m broken and sick and need help… and he’s making the effort.

He has the body of a frat boy and the cuff links of an attorney general. He’s standing in Italian leather holding chocolate milk and the Smurfs movie, kissing me on the cheek and smiling at me while I shake my head in amazement.

Mean is my forte… I don’t know what to do with nice.

*- Hey can I shovel this for you? I hate to think of you coughing and choking over this big old pile of slush?

My phone is going insane in my pocket and he looks at me sideways.

J- I just went through a bad breakup. I’m not in the head-space for this. I think you’re really nice… but.

*- Shhhh…. I know. Go drink your coffee and let a guy shovel a little snow for you. Friends?

He smiles at me and holds out his pinky finger.

The pinky swear is sacred in this house.  I’m enamored…. and enjoying the prettiest red tulips while it snows outside…

While he shovels….

:)

The Revolving Door Club

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I opened this morning and it was slow, slow, slow…but slowly… the bar filled up with boys in the first ten minutes.

Weird.

They’re range in ages from 22-65. They’re celebrating a divorce.

Now that I can get behind- life is way too short to be unhappily married. That’s the scary part of realizing how successful you are as a single woman. The world is indeed, your oyster. You can maintain your own home, work enough to fill the fridge with food and support yourself and the kids. Take a vacation every summer, or even better… every winter. As soon as we figure out we can do it, it’s a lot harder to even consider giving it up.

But… we all know someone who’s happily married- and ultimately we all really want that.

However…we all must beware the Mimic Octopus sucking us back into captivity. If he’s/she’s forever telling you how incredible he/she is and you’re never seeing it with your own eyes or feeling him/her support you? Run. Run right now and don’t look back.

The Mimic Octopus is a species of octopus that has a strong ability to mimic other creatures. Mimicry also allows it to prey upon animals that would ordinarily flee an octopus; it can imitate a crab as an apparent mate, only to devour its deceived suitor. Based on observation, the mimic octopus may decide which animal to impersonate depending on local predators. For example, when the octopus was being attacked by damselfish, the octopus was observed to appear as a banded sea snake, a damselfish predator.

Bad, bad dude/chick… they can make you think they’re anything and everything you ever wanted… as long as you don’t look too closely or rock the boat. Maintain perfection and do not ask any questions.

They’re worse than Zombies, I’m tellin’ ya…. the Mimic Octopus is the worst dating has to offer. Run… and if you ignore that advice, you deserve what’s about to happen to you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, and yes… I will tell you I told you so.

The gentlemen are sharing their own horror stories. They’re all having a beer with him before he goes to sign the papers, making it all final. He looks so relieved it’s hard not to laugh. He laughs nervously and drinks half of his beer in one drink.

G- None of you have ever had it as bad as this. This is insane.

J- That bad, huh?

The other guys start laughing…

- She’s fucking nuts.

- We told you not to marry her.

- Remember when she hiked out and found us when we were hunting? In a dress? Crazy bitch.

He rolls his eyes at me and holds his empty glass out to me. His buddies object. He insists.

I pour.

I hand him his beer and he looks so tortured. I relate on so many levels it’s a little uncanny. He smiles at me and I pat him on the hand.

J- It’s a failure when you get divorced- there’s no getting around it… but it’s also a second chance to do it right the second time. Look at it that way and quit beating yourself up about it. We all have horrible relationship stories in our past.

They all start to heckle me. Doubters, all of them.

- Yeah right, you don’t have anything that can even come close to this crazy bitch.

- No. What did he do, forget your birthday?

- You’re a cutie and you could sell stolen babies with that smile.

J- I could beat all of your stories.

Likes knives to a gun fight… they’re nothing but a poor bunch of sitting ducks.

G- Not a chance. You buy me a drink after work if I win, and vice versa.

J- So you get a date with me either way? No. If I win, you tip me $20 and you all have to sign it… and I’m renaming you the Revolving Door Club.

G- Oh that’s easy, but you really should have a drink with us after work. The what?

J- Sorry, not today, but thank you.

G- So… bad ex stories? She grinds her teeth. She farts in public. She picks at her ears with her long fingernails. She’s repulsive.

J- Yikes. I had one who Nair’d his whole body once. It was hot for minute… but then it was like being mauled by a cactus. He smelled like hippie and weed… which was basically what he consisted of anyway. He took all my camping gear, stole my boat and sued me for the things he’d left behind. He lost… and I win this round…

G- Jesus… you do.

- I’d kill a man for stealing my boat.

J- Yeah well I got to keep his wood.

They all start laughing before I can explain, lol…

G- I took her to Disneyland once. We got there and she was afraid of all the rides. She would only go on the teacups and would leave me if I went on anything cool. She wouldn’t let me go to ESPN Zone and she told me it was a good week to stop drinking. A week on the teacups without a fucking drop, and no head.

J- I flew 4000 miles for a first date, who wasn’t there when I landed. I went through that hour wondering if I’d really made a huge mistake… only to have two amazing days falling in love with him…. until someone drugged my drink on our last night together and things went south so fast they caught fire. Not only did he go from loving to hating me within 4 days, I found out I was merely a number on a long list upon my return. I tried everything I could to fix it and he called me a whore and told me I deserve a revolving door of men and will never know love like his again. End of story. Not so fairytale huh… but it sure beats your Disney nightmare.

G- Dude. You win. I don’t want to play anymore. Awww do you need a hug? I hope you don’t want to know love like his again.

Lovely… the poor divorcee is offering to comfort me.

Who has two thumbs and is a kick-ass bartender?

This gloriously happy shiny beautiful and spectacularly smug Princess.

Chuckin’ up the deuces… and collecting my tip from the guys who reaffirmed what I already know to be true.

I’ve seen the worst because I’m not content to settle for less than everything. I’m enough all by myself. If it’s not amazing? I don’t need it.

And my “Revolving Door Club” $100 dollar bill and I went grocery shopping after work.

Cadbury chocolate eggs… grape tomatoes…Diet Coke and Lunchables…

I know he meant it as an insult… but I’m pretty happy with my Revolving Door Club, dinner was delicious.

:)

Tempered steel…

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I hand picked my Achilles heel for my second date. I’m not the strongest Catholic girl in the rectory… let’s leave it at that. He’s chocolatey beautiful with abs that inspire a spontaneous set of sit ups. He has an extensive vocabulary and a tendency to bite his lip when he smiles at me. He’s like live porn. No joke.

WTF was I thinking… I’m at ease with the weirdos… this lovely young thing even has cuff links and a tie on. Uh oh.

Holy holy holy holy…..he’s hot… and with my hands over my eyes, shaking my head… I’m praying for mercy… praying… but also pausing to sing “shake your ass make your boyfriend mad” lol… he laughs and leans forward to kiss me on the chin. My breath catches in my throat.

Damn.

It.

He’s delightfully 24….nearly 12 years younger than me and just goddamndelightful. Pretty. Smells good…..looks even better………………………

Legal….not to mention divine…. and scary sharky….

and I’m trying to think of a good excuse to leave. I’m exhausted after working all night and he’s just too….pretty. I’m in the mood for my favorite pajamas, a clean set of sheets on my bed and my latest bunny-on-the-needles. I’m sleepy…. and in crazy spring cleaning mode. I’ve been bleaching surfaces since 4 am this morning. I’m preoccupied… and still not sleeping well.

I miss him and it sucks. I’m getting used to it sucking- but I’m also knitting like a lunatic and eating too many french fries. I can admit it… I’m depressed about this whole dating situation.

And now I’m on a date with the equivalent of Taye Diggs, God love him. What the fuck was I thinking when I made this plan? Clearly I was temporarily insane.

He’s biting his lip at me again and I’m a little weirded out by it. He starts to lick his lips. They’re beautiful- he’s gorgeous… and don’t get me wrong… I’m picking up what he’s throwing down…

But it’s still a little weird. A little creepy… or a little off-putting… or at least I’m thinking so until he goes and takes it to a very strange place.

D- Daddy’s home, baby… Daddy’s home.

Um… I’m truly at a loss for words and all I can think about is my dad… ugh. Argh. Buzz kill… FML. I’m in real hell at this moment because I realize we’ve just ordered dinner and I have to somehow acknowledge his “Daddy” comment. What does one say to that?

J- My Daddy just died.

Told ya I was done being sweetness and light. Every boys greatest fantasy and biggest nightmare… all rolled into one.

Plus who on earth wants to think about their Dad, or even have that word mentioned in an intimate moment? Ew. No. Ew. Gag. Blech…

D- Sorry about your Dad.

J- Ahhh, he was kind of a douchebag, but thanks.

It’s so much more fun to go a little rogue in the dating world. I don’t really care anymore about meeting someone. I’m completely myself, with no effort to make anyone like me. I’m content single. I’ve seen both sides of the spectrum in the last year. I know how bad it can be, and I know how good it can be too.

I live in the Pacific Northwest… and we have a serious thug-shortage…. so you look a little odd if you try to pull that look off up here. I’m only now adjusting to my bitch panties…His wangster panties are painted on… he knows nothing else… oy…

He starts making duckface smiles at me… and I’m unsure how to respond. I’m awkward, and though I’m trying desperately to hang on to my bitch panties… my Oh-My-God-He’s-Crazy-RUN!!! panties are looking SO much more comfortable.

Our dinner arrives and I pick up my chopsticks, and he stabs at his sushi with a fork. To each his own, I really don’t care, as long as he likes sushi.

D- You like fish?

J- I am a fan of the creatures of the sea…. shellfish, crustaceans, fish, etc…. I love them all.

D- I like fish too. <wink, wink>

Oh goody… a creepy inappropriate sexual innuendo guy, and it’s not even my birthday.

I ate my dinner in record speed, took $20 out of my wallet and set it on the table.

J- Thank you so much, and take care.

and I left…. like I should have so many times before, and didn’t. I always thought that would be so rude. I was always concerned about being the perfect lady and not hurting anyone’s feelings. Even at the sacrifice of my own.

I’ve learned a lot about myself by internet dating. I used to be so afraid. I used to feel so broken and so terrified at not being enough…

Time and time again- I was mortified at the weirdos that I was supposed to “Like”. I had more fun with the crazy weirdos I hand picked.

I’ve been tempered… and I’m patient, but realistic. I know the grass isn’t greener. I know the clouds roll in on important days.

I know that perfect is as real as unicorns and the spaghetti monster. Perfect doesn’t happen outside of television because reality is so much better.

Wouldn’t you rather feel his feverish face on your back when he’s not feeling well and seeks you out for comfort? Aren’t you still just as in love with him when he’s not at the top of his game? Sometimes it’s better.

I’m happy making chicken noodle soup and kissing the inevitable bumps and bruises that go along with living life to the fullest. Scars are simply physical memories :)

Go on… get out there and go dent your spaceship a little. Make this whole crazy existence count, every single day.

and DON’T BE A DOUCHEBAG… we already have a surplus.

God Bless the Baldies…

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Damn it… nothing makes a man hotter than shaving all of his hair off. Nothing.

Give me a homeless hot bald guy over Bill Gates any day.

I’m not joking.

Work was slow for the first hour, then went full tilt for the next 5. Seating 4 tables and running food to two, drinks to 3 more… and trying to remember the 4th side of ranch dressing for the lady on table 12. I have to admit… I forgot soup for two people and dressing for one last night. Oops. I always remember everything I forgot to do, at the end of the night.

Riding the wave of good service, I’m pretty good at what I do, and I do it happily. My last customer of the night last night, in a group of 4 older people, reached out and grabbed my hand as I walked by. I stopped and smiled and he said…

T- You have the best smile. Thank you so much for taking care of us. How is your day?

J- And you have the nicest shiny bald head I’ve seen all night, and I’m a fan- so that’s saying something. I’m having a wonderful day, how about you?

T- I’m Thomas, what’s your name?

J- <flinching a little> Hi Thomas, it’s a pleasure to meet you- I’m Jenni.

Thomas… just feeling the word in my mouth makes me want to cry. I miss him and I hate him at the same time. What a quandary.

Nice Thomas wins for the night, but in the beginning of my dinner rush, my favorite table ever, came in and sat down to party.

Three shiny bald guys, three gorgeous blonde Coach bag toting ladies. These are my people. This is my tribe. I walk over to greet them and take their drink order and they are loud and rowdy. Yeah!!! I love my fun tables after serving pretentious assholes who are looking down their nose at me while they order a third side of tartar sauce for their french fries. Please. <eye-roll>

Party people in the house! They start unpacking games to play together. Yeehaaww baby, these folks are fixin’ to camp. I ask them if they know what they’d like to drink and the guy at the end pipes up.

S- I’m a dick.

J- Is that so? Huh. Well we have dishes in the kitchen for boys like you.

S- I’d just break them.

J- I’m sure we could find something more unpleasant for you to do instead? You can’t be a dick- I’m too nice. How about a color page and some crayons?

Done. We’re good and they’re laughing. I drop off his coloring page and he winks at me. My campers are set- and hungry. The six of them outspent a table of 12, lol…

Appetizers, cheesecake and pink beer… it’s a mother-freaking party, hosted by yours truly.

They sing “Happy birthday, dear Lesbian” and we have a few spontaneous dance parties here and there. Some of my other tables are not so amused… but these folks are a pleasure to serve because they are friendly and gracious and patient.

They’re finished and I drop their check, with an autograt charge of $30- and they tip me another $20 on top of it. I walk back over to thank them personally, and he hands me another $20- I tease him and tell him I only came over to thank him for his generous tip and hand him back his $20…. and he hands me $40.

He comes over to the counter where I’m pouring a glass of wine, and buys t-shirts and glasses… and tips me another $20. Again, I try to make him take it back, putting it in one of his glasses, and he leaves $20 on the bar. His sister walks over and hands me $20, and I tell her that really, he’d already over-tipped my best tipper ever. She insists.

They’re all set and he walks over.

G- What time do you get off?

J- After ten.

G- Come have a beer with us, you really made our night great- thank you so much.

J- It’s my pleasure, really- it’s so nice having a table of happy people all night- really. You’ve overtipped me to the point I can pay the power bill early. Thank you.

and there’s another $50 on the table… with his phone number.

Which I didn’t call…but I saved… for after Lent.

Post work cocktail poured by my favorite bartender, a little soda to go with my Tanqueray…

and I’m making it.

Putting the pieces back together after the most traumatic dating experience of my life… and that’s saying something. One of my favorite friends started laughing the other day and hugged me, saying…

G- I used to think you were full of shit. I used to think you just had a wild imagination… but this shit happens to you. Hanging out with you and seeing it first hand is wild. It’s gonna take a confident man and unfortunately you’re attracted to morons. Another beautiful day in chaos… I couldn’t put it better myself.

Helluva month y’all… one that is thankfully almost over.

and I have a particularly epic internet date tonight… lol… brace yourselves.

Morning Erection

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Weird…

Someone sent me a link to a blog awfully similar to one I used to read.

Being the sweet girl that I am, I’m always happy to share new blogs I find that interest me, and this one certainly caught my attention.

Morning Erection

Huh.

My first inclination was to wonder if he’d just hopped the coat tails of that guy I used to know… but nope… this dude has been writing since 2009 and although eerily similar… This Tom is married.

Go figure.