The Wicket Just Got Stickier?

So, he had convinced me to go out with him. He was very funny, smart and a great kisser and I was going to dinner with him. I was so excited. I love the feeling before the first date, when everything is pure. I sat through my grad school classes with a mixture of excitement and nervousness running through my veins. This guy really liked me and that felt great, he was taking me to a fabulous dinner followed only by drinks at his bar!!

Suddenly, I realized that I was kinda nervous. I hadn’t been on a first date in a really long time. When he arrived to pick me up for dinner, I was at a level three nervous. Less than two days ago I didn’t even like the guy. At dinner my conversation was worthless, I sounded like an idiot. He was cute, and charming, and told me that I looked pretty. I was putty. We walked over to his bar and I felt like a queen amidst paupers. I didn’t have to pay for one drink. It was amazing. We talked and joked and the chemistry was like nothing else. We closed the bar, and he walked me home and we kissed for a the perfect makeout. It was the most amazing kissing. Why had I considered not going out with this guy?

After kissing for a couple of minutes he looked at me and told me that he had something to tell me. With the most honest eyes possible, he told me that he was going through a divorce. He shared everything about the separation and divorce with me, I wasn’t sure how to feel. He had been married less than a year. He told me that he understood if I didn’t want to continue seeing him. I liked this guy, but a divorce? This could be messy? Could I handle this?

Unstuck

So, I resigned myself to gently let this guy down. I walked into the crowded bar alone, something I had done many times before, but this time I felt incredibly awkward.  I had decided that I would let him come to me.  I mean, what if I came in here to actively turn him down and he had just asked me out in drunkenness.  How horrifying would it be for me to turn down an non-invite.  Ok, my internal monologue was going faster than my racing heart. 

I spotted him across the bar.  He was deep in conversation with a table full of people.  I ordered a beer and sat waiting.  What was my plan?  What if he never saw me?  Just as that thought ran through my head I made eye contact with him.  Oh thank goodness... thank goodness, now I had to talk to him.  Shoot, I hadn't thought of this part yet.  I had been so focused on getting his attention.  He saddled up in the stool next to me, and the conversation was flirty.  I was terrbily uncomfortable.  If he asked me out, I would have to turn him down.  Wouldn't I?  As I was ruminating over this, he mentioned the afore agreed upon dinner. 

I began to stutter.  I came up with some of the silliest reasons as to why I couldn't go out with him.  Mind you, as I was turning this poor man down, in his own bar, his employees were frequently interrupting, making this whole thing more awkward.  He finally looked at me, and said, I am asking you to share a meal with me, not get married.  He accused me of being ridiculous.  To be fair, I was.  He was a nice guy, who wanted to take me out for a meal... what's so wrong with that?  So, instead of answering, I played the fool and gave the guy a trial date.

I spent that evening evaluating how this so called date could be.  Is this guy funny?  Can we share a conversation?  Could I be attracted to him?  After several hours of flirting and laughing and drinking the answer to all of those questions was coming up yes.  This was so opposite of how I was feeling just hours prior.  What the hell was going on? 

We went to an after hours bar and the fun continued, so did the drinking.  Some people call them beer goggles, but I think that mine were more like beer "glasses."  Things actually seemed more clear, all of my silly preconcieved notions seemed to fall to the wayside.  Suddenly, I was kinda into this guy.  We walked home from the bar and had the hottest makeout on the front porch.  This was a very different kiss from the one that we had shared just the night before.  It was a GREAT kiss.  This guy could really kiss.  Oh my goodness.  Good night sir. 

Sticky Wicket

So, I started a kickball team this past fall. My team was made up of mostly my gal friends and a couple of people who could play when they had the time. To be perfectly honest, my kickball team was just a reason to get my friends to come out and drink with me. Every week, I would scramble to get a small and pathetic team together to hit the kickball field. This kickball league wasn’t exactly a serious league, it was sponsored by my local bar, so I didn’t really take it too seriously.


Our season was over as quickly as it started and we were successfully the loosingest team in the league. I had never been more proud of my team. The end of the year party was to be the pinnacle of the season, we were being given the toilet seat trophy. I was so excited. I just wanted to have some fun.

My pathetic posse of losers and I sat at a table hanging out. I began to get attention from the owner of the bar. I ignored it as just him being drunk. As the night went on though, he began to get more touchy and more flirty. As I drank more, the less I minded. He wasn’t exactly my type, but as long as the attention was harmless, I didn’t mind.

I did mind when my roommate after many many drinks decided that she needed to be protective of me. She cornered my poor flirty bar owner. She basically asked him his intentions. With every word that she drunkenly slurred, I cringed inside. The more attention that she brought to this matter, ie his flirting, the more real it made it. I was hoping that I could ignore, that we could just play flirty face all night, and let it go. I’m sticking to the fact that the moment that my roommate brought attention to his flirting, he saw a checkered flag and the finish line toward a date.

Ten minutes later we found ourselves alone in the middle of a crowded room. He looked at me, and casually, but seriously, asked me out for dinner. He was so cute about it, I didn’t have any idea what to say. I had been avoiding this moment all night. Every fiber in my body wanted to say NO… but out of my mouth came a hesitant and unsure…. “Sure?”

It was like I wasn’t I wasn’t in my body for that brief moment because I was looking down at myself yelling… screaming NOOOO!! What the hell had I just agreed to. This was the bar owner of the bar that I frequent more often than I would like to admit. If I screwed this up, I would be out of a bar. If I went out with him, I would not be attracted to him.

Oh crap.

I decided perhaps I should sneak out when he wasn’t looking and chalk up this entire evening to being “drunk.” I looked around the bar, I didn’t see him, good sign, I walked out. I almost walked right into him. He was standing outside having a smoke. Oh crap. There was no getting out of this now. I waved good bye and tried to slide on bye. No such luck.

He insisted upon walking me home. Now this guy is a nice guy. He is tall a bit awkward and out of my age bracket. At my front steps I said thanks and good bye. He leaned in for the kiss, oh crap, I couldn’t turn away, that constitutes major rejection, I couldn’t make out with him, so I closed lip kissed him. It was like ABC family television show. There was no tongue, just awkwardness on my part. I don’t think he realized it, because when he turned he told me that he would call me tomorrow.

What a sticky wicket I had just gotten myself into.

Condo in the Wild

Being the youngest of three and the only girls in my family, I have never been a girly girl. We used to be outdoors all the time, nature to my father was rejuvenating. For years we used to go camping every weekend. Now, mind you, we had a pop-up camper, and that was many years ago, but when my friend asked me if I wanted to go camping, I was excited. I was given the task of finding a tent for a couple of my friends and I, so I borrowed one.

My friend who owned the tent is someone that I actually consider a “camper.” He not only lent me the tent, but his camping “ditty” bag. This bag was full of his most treasured camping equipment, tent, wool blanket, hatchet, Frisbee and softball. The minute that he started telling me about his equipment a lump of hesitation started forming in my throat. When I was a kid, I slept in an enclosed camper. This was going to be very different, how could I forget that!

He agreed to drop the tent off with me, and give me a brief lesson in a park nearby. Unfortunately it was raining, so we made do with my living room, my warm dry living room. Now when I tell you that this tent was a four person tent it does not convey the enormity of it. My friend is six foot two and his head did not touch the top, this thing was big. As we started to assemble the tent, I made notes on a post it with my pink pen and realized the irony of it. I was a city girl headed to the dark wilderness of Wisconsin, with a giant tent and instructions written in a pink pen.

The week of our trip the weather was forecasting an unseasonably cold weekend. The temperature of 40 degrees was mentioned. WHAT? This was supposed to be August, 40 degrees? I was supposed to sleep on the ground in a tent in that weather? Oh gosh. This was not going to be the camping trip of my childhood.

When my group piled into my car on the day we were supposed to leave we tried to pretend that the weather was not going to be as cold as forecasted. As the sun set during our drive I thought about the impending adventure of assembling the condo that was the borrowed tent. This thing was huge and every minute that passed it was getting dark, really dark!

The earlier car already had their small tent up and built a lovely fire. We were jazzed to start getting our stuff together. I put on a face of confidence. I couldn’t let on that I was terrified that we would be sleeping in my car that night. I delegated the necessary jobs, such as ensuring that my headlights did not go out, silly automated headlights and saving my batter, and started unrolling the monstrosity. The minute that we had the tent unrolled, the skies opened and big fat rain drops fell at a fast pace. I mentally calculated the time that it would take to get this up vs. the percentage of wet that I was willing to get. Staying relatively dry won. I ran to go get the “tarp” to cover the tent so the inside wouldn’t be drenched. Running in flip flops in the rain and mud is not easy.

Two of the wet group jumped in my car. I silently cried about my newly detailed car, not wanting to know just how much mud had just made its way onto the mats. I ditched my muddy flip flops and jumped into the assembled tent. I was soaked. Tonight was going to be a cold one. The muddy car was looking like a better option by the second.

Twenty cold wet minutes later the big fat rain drops subsided to a light mist. I decided that we needed to get that tent up quickly if we were going to sleep in it. For all of the precautions that we took, the tent was drenched. The tarp had about three inches of rain on it that we had to dump off. We worked quickly putting the poles through and clipping and anchoring. The process was smooth once we got the rhythm, and practicing in my living room really did pay off. I felt very outdoorsy.
After another twenty cold, wet, and muddy minutes, our tent was up, but we had about two inches of water in one of the corners of the tent. I went to my newly muddy car and grabbed the leftover tacobell cup and started bailing. Picture this, a GIANT tent, fully assembled, with giant cups of water being thrown out of the front of it. I finally got it to the point where I could use a towel and grabbed the nearest one, making note that I would have to buy a new one for the owner of it… my sleeping space needed to be dry! Then the towel became too saturated, my friend realizing the dire situation and not wanting to sleep in water herself, offer her cardigan for wiping. I was so proud of her for offering and thankful, and thrilled to have a dry piece of fabric to try and soak up any left over moisture.

The tent was up. Our beautiful, dry condo in nature was finally erect. I could not have been more thrilled with my self, the city girl who once used to “camp” getting a fully functioning tent up in the rain. I also had to give props to my friend for sacrificing her lovely cardigan for the cause of a warm condo. Let me tell you, that night, we had the warmest tent in all of the tent city that was our campgrounds.

It's Complicated

So, I survived being the 7th wheel. It could have been worse. I only lost my cool once when my friend and her boyfriend were making googly eyes at each other across the table. Gross! Beer came and went and the evening ended with me tucked away in my bed happy to have such wonderful friends.

The end of the weekend was supposed to end calmly with dinner and catching a play. Let me start with a little background first as to why we were going to said play. My friends and I spend a lot of time at the local bar where we hang out with the bar tender who happens to be an actor. I often spend most of my nights flirting with him, making aforementioned googly eyes, and whispering sweet nothings drunkenly over my beer. So, when he invited us to his play we felt a bit obliged to attend, or maybe just wanted to see where I could get with him.

I put on my Sunday best, strappy summer heels, jeans, and an adorably form flattering top. I felt like a million bucks. We ate dinner at this lovely organic pizzeria, yes I ate onions, but I had some gum in my purse. We girl chatted, we talked about all the inappropriate things that we girls talk about when no one else is around, boys, makeup, clothes and sex, of course. None of us were really looking forward to this play. We realized that this play could potentially the worst two hours of our (I won’t be so dramatic to say life) weekend.

We walked into the theatre simultaneously cringed. The theatre was quite small. I was feeling like an idiot. We were just the bar flies that see him once a week, now we were in a small theatre crowded with people that actually knew the cast. What was this guy going to think of me? As the lights went down in the small intimate theatre my worries did not subside. My worries then combined with boredom because this play was awful. In addition to an awful play our friend the bartender didn’t show up until the second act. We sat through the whole first act painfully trying to laugh at the appropriate times, gasp at the surprises and clap at intermission.

The second act did not improve. The bartender did show up for several scenes but certainly not worth a $20 ticket. When the painful play finally ended my one friend wanted to wait for our bartender, I wanted to get the hell outta there. So, we waited for him. I plastered a smile on my face and as he walked over I knew the lie I would have to tell. The lie was easy followed by an invite to join he and other for drinks at a bar half a block away. My gals and I rarely turn down a drink, so off to the bar we went. We bought him a beverage not really expecting him to stick around but there he sat. I turned on my charm, ehh what the hell, it was a bad show, but why not make the night a little more interesting!

After several drinks, he was still sitting and still flirting. Things were getting more interesting. He then invited me and my other gal to another bar. We were definitely on board. At the next bar the flirting continued. The music was loud, so he would lean in ever so closely just to talk. Our arms brushed, and all the signals were a go!! Things for me were getting more interesting.

At three am we headed back to our place. This had to be a sure thing. Without invitation he parked the car and walked up with us to my place. We cracked open a couple of beers and sat on the balcony. We continued to flirt. I put my legs on his lap, he rubbed my feet, green light. I stepped inside for a minute and when I came back they were packing up their things to come inside. My gal immediately fell onto the couch and passed out. My bartender was in the kitchen cleaning up. What an amazing guy! I walked right up to him, rubbed his back, made all of my right moves and I felt like I was suddenly getting stone walled. We were coming to the point of decision here, it was either a go or a no go here. In the living room I offered him the chaise to sleep on or “another option”… As I let my voice trail off, I heard him say, “here was fine,” indicating the chaise.

WHAT? Wait, what the hell just happened. This was very confusing. I had given every indication that all signals were go. I had practically given a liftoff count down. So, in a way that only I could, I looked at him and asked “are you even interested in me?” To which he responded, “Yea… but… it’s complicated.” He continued, "It's just bad timing."  Wait, so he was or wasn’t interested in me. Did he just deliver me a line? This was very confusing to a girl talk about a total mind screw. (and of all things that I thought were going to get screwed that night, my mind wasn't one of them.)  So I figure, give it one last go, I leaned in for a good night kiss and was greeted by the pursed lips of someone very different than the one flirting with me all night.  Good Lord, was I delusional, did I imagine all of this flirting? I suppose that kind of analyzing would have to wait for another day, at another time.

Ode to the 7th Wheel

So tonight I am going out with my girl friends and their significant others. I made the joke “are we bringing our men,?” Typically, this question is not interpreted as a joke, but because I am single, it is. Tonight I am going to be the 7th wheel.

My three friends have chosen their men well. I like each of them, perhaps not collectively and in couples, and certainly not today, but most of the time I like them. I am also a strong woman, who very much enjoys the life of a single woman. I like having my own schedule, and not answering to anyone. Occasionally, I even partake in a casual fling. I am not so cynical that I cannot admit that there are definitely times in which I had someone.

Begin the Pity Party
Tonight when I sit at the table, not made for six or eight but for seven, I will cringe a little bit on the inside. I am not looking for pity, but tonight when the husbands order another drink for their wives when they are running low, or make sure that they get the last piece of pizza I will have a small pang of jealousy run through my veins. The worst will be when the couple thinks no one is looking and the brush their hands against each other or one lays their hand on the other’s thigh, I will let out a small cry to myself.

Sitting with three other couples when you are single is like getting hit in the head by a ton of bricks, each one a HARD sometimes painful reminder that I am single.

What a Morning...

I’ll fully admit that I am not a morning person. If there is a need for me to bright and shiny in the a.m., I can certainly rise to the occasion, but typically, I am not with it. This morning in particular, I was a special case of space cadet. I woke up thinking that it was Saturday. It was wonderful, I rolled over, and started dreaming again. Twenty minutes later, reality some how crept into my dream and I woke with a start. It definitely was not Saturday, I had to jump out of bed and into the shower. Unfortunately, the night before the toilet had decided to continuously run, so periodically during my shower SCALDING hot water came shooting out.

After receiving some third degree burns during my shower, I struggled with every morning chore that I had to do, getting dressed, brushing my teeth, packing a lunch, etc. A hangover would have adequately explained my behavior, but I did not have one drink the night before. Finally, I got in my car and I was on my way, only to notice that my gas light was on. Really, gas, well at least I could stop and get a crappy cup of coffee in the seven eleven while I was filling up.

So, that’s what I did. I started pumping gas and headed in for a cup of joe. Ahh there’s no better smell on a rough morning than French Vanilla coffee, even from a gas station. For a moment, when the smell hits you, it’s as if you are transplanted into a real coffee shop and not a badly lit 7-11 where they are selling hot dogs right next to the counter. I decided to treat myself to a half coffee half cappuccino combo. I filled up my cup with the delightful coffee and started the cappuccino, which decided it didn’t want to work and was spraying hot water every where. Scalding shower number two.

I just wanted a cup of coffee. Take two was more successful that my first try, I didn’t burn any appendages on the second attempt. The bored man behind the counter had rang up my coffee before I had even gotten there. As I paid him, I was distracted by the shiny scratch off lotto tickets behind the glass… ooohhh pretty. I rationalized the purchase of lotto tickets with the knowledge that some of that money goes towards Illinois education… right?? The pretty shiny pink ticket looked too good to pass up. There’s just something about scratching off the possibility to win big.

With my lotto ticket in one hand and coffee in another, I hit the road. Traffic wasn’t so bad for a while. Expectedly, it came to a halt. Ahhh a perfect time to scratch and win! I pulled out my ticket. The bad thing about these tickets is that often there are fairly specific directions. Don’t they realize that people just want to scratch the shiny silver stuff off the whole ticket and see the words WIN with the amount of money? I don’t want to have think when I am doing a scratch off lotto ticket. The pink lotto ticket was one of the difficult ones, it had stars and number matching and some sort of code. It was made even more difficult by the periodic glace up at traffic to move and brake when needed. I finally understood it, star = good, matching numbers = good. So I started to scratch. Of course, when I did so, traffic also started to move.

After scratching all the numbers I realized I was about 10 cars length away from the car in front of me. I hit the gas and started brushing off the silver scratch off dust…. and SLAMMED into the car in front of me. CRAP!!

I was probably going no more than five miles per hour, but enough to probably do some sort of damage. We made eye contact in our rear view mirrors. I was really hoping he wasn’t going to call the police. Mentally, I was running through all the things that my dad taught me, never apologize, give insurance info, give registrations… oh man, this sucked.

The man got out of his black Acura and looked like a regular guy. He looked at his car, and said that there didn’t look like there was a whole lot of damage. I of course, didn’t say much, because my instinct was to say, “I’m sorry,” so every mental ability went to not blurting that out. So, I stood there with basically nothing to say, no makeup on, my hair undid, thank goodness I dressed well that morning. After just standing there and looking at him I decided he was a very handsome middle aged man. He reminded me of the dad in a great American commercial for something like a Weber grill.

I wrote down my information and gave it to him. It pained me to try and even crunch the numbers of what the damage may end up costing, so I tried just as hard not to think about that as I did not to think about apologizing. After uttering no more than 20 words to the poor man, we exchanged good byes. His final message to me was “things happen, have a good morning!” I thought to myself, now had I won the lotto, that would have been good morning!