Single gal vacation? Sad or relaxing?

Something to consider?

Broken English Bulgarian and Oversexualized Steve

Due to the sticky situation that I have participated in longer than I'd like to admit, I have taken up the fun sport of internet dating again.  Since my last experiences and an overall improvement in emotional health I believe that I am more prepared for my upcoming experiences.  I started back with a free site, probably not the "safest" idea.  Most free dating websites have a reputation just being for hookups and filthy encounters.  I have gone on a few unsuccessful, yet tolerable dates which made it worth going back to.

So, the website is equipped with a fun little chat feature, which enables gentlemen to immediately communicate with you in real time.  My first gentleman chat was a non ugly looking fellow, who's grammar was poor.  There were several miscommnications during the chat.  When I started to sign off, the gent asked me for my phone number.  I'll admit being flattered, but more so, I was uncertain how I could say no.  So, I didn't, I gave him my phone number.  He started texting me almost immediately.  Again, miscommunications ensued.  I even accused him at one point of propositioning me for a booty call.  Well, the poor lad was utterly confused at this point, he couldn't figure out what I was talking about.  It took several more text messages to find out that the gentleman with the poor grammar was from Bulgaria and his broken English was not translating well in either instant message or text message.  Needless to say, I discontinued our "relationship."

I took another attempt at bat in the realm of internet dating.  So, I guess I should admit that I typically avoid the "pretty" guys.  I tend to talk more to the gentlemen with a couple more pounds to them and the ones who DO not have in their profile paragraphs describing their obsession with working out.  I tend to believe that it is better to end a convo with a geeky and uncertain guy rather than listen to an arrogant one talk about himself for far too long.  Well, tonight, I started talking to what I thought was a "normal" guy.  Ugh!!

We flirted, I busted his chops about something stupid, we exchanged banter.  As the conversation ensued, his suggestion and sexual innuendo became less veiled.  I was taken aback after this gentle man persistently asked me to come to his place.  When he was turned down, he offered phone sex.  I told him that I was old fashioned and if he didn't like he could move on, I was going to apologize.  So, he seemed to back off, and we were able to talk about other things.  Until, he asked for my phone number.... UMMMM.  Here I was again, did I learn from my previous phone number mishap, NO.  I gave him my digits.  He behaved for several text and I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, unlike my previous phone encounter, but unfortunately, I should have been more careful.  At one point it even got so bad there was mention of a tongue and an often unmentionable special lady part.  I was uncomfortable.  I called him out one last time and he apoligized, he tried to explain that it could have been worse, I gave him one last chance (did I mention he was asking me out for the home opener of the bears game... my threshold for intolerable was raised).  The next after the apology read as follows, "craziest place u've had sex, fav position."  I ended the conversation immediately telling him that I am looking for a gentleman who has more in his conversational repertoire than the basest of all topics... sex.  I'm no prude, but seriously.

Can't wait for what else is out there.... 

Seriously?

So, I finally started my big girl job after graduate school.  I loved the job, even better, I loved that finally I would be earning money again.  I had been living the life of a graduate student, back to eating ramen noodles and complex carbohydrates with no nutritional value or protein in sight.  But finally, oh finally I was back in to the world of earning! 

Friday was my first payday and I already had plans on how I was going to treat myself to a new handbag.  I admit to living a thrifty lifestyle for the past couple of years, and finally I was going to spend my money on something I wanted.  After I had deposited my check, I rushed to the department store to purchase the new handbag that I had set my sights on.  Unfortunately, I made the cardinal mistake in shopping, picking something out, setting my heart on something and then not buying it, inevitably, it wasn't there when I went to pick it up and nothing else measured up. 

I picked my chin up and decided that perhaps instead of a new hand bag, I could pick my spirits up with a new outfit to sport to the upcoming 'couples' wedding shower that I had to go to that night... alone.  (That's a story for another post)  If you are asking, yes I was in the wedding, so no there was no getting out of going to it.  Yes it was called a couple shower for a reason because all the games that were intended on being played all required a his/her team.  I would only have the her portion of the team and there would be no single gents in attendance.  Although I was in the wedding I clearly had nothing to do with the planning of the extremely considerate and welcoming event persons of all statuses.  Anyway...

After the great disappointment in the purse department, the women's clothing was quite the opposite, I found the perfect outfit... and it was on sale.  I bought everything, a new dress, a jacket, earrings and a new bra.  I was set!  I felt great, I even paid cash.  Things were looking up.  I knew even though I didn't have my new hand bag, at least I would have some armour to protect myself from the upcoming barrage of couples games that night.  I felt fabulous, I had money in the bank, a new out fit ready to be worn and a little extra courage that it brought with me. 

On the way back home to get ready for this shower, my car started jerking.  This was odd, my sweet car had never made that motion before.  Alarm shot through my head.  It was still running and going, but a funny smell was coming from the car.  For a while I was able to convince myself that the smell was just me sweating from shopping and excitement... denial anyone?  I continued driving but then my car refused to continue any further.  Ummm... CRAP CRAP CRAP!!

I ask you this question, what's worse than being single at a couple's shower... single with a broken down car!  I called up my best friend who's husband considers himself a car buff and clearly has far more knowledge about what's under the hood than anyone else I knew.  When I explained the symptoms he kept repeating the word transmission.  Even with no knowledge of cars, I knew that wasn't good.  He recommended not driving it... well great, cause it wasn't going to drive anyway!  I called the next best thing to a BF... AAA.  A tow truck was there about an hour later, all the while I was melting on the side of the road watching the time tick by counting down until I was supposed to be at this shower.  One might now beg to ask, could I have used this as an excuse to not go to the shower... no, as only one of three bridesmaids, I was going to be at my own personal hell if the last thing I did!

When the tow truck driver asked about what was wrong with the car so that he could let the mechanic know, he literally winced at the symptoms.  Winced. 

While he cautioned that he wasn't a mechanic he admitted that it didn't sound good.  Again the horrible word transmission was mentioned again.  Ugh.  The car was towed to the mechanic, I was towed back to my apt to get ready for the night. 

My first paycheck had been in the bank for less than twelve hours and already it appeared to be completely spoken for.  Thanks universe for that kick in the crotch... we'll talk again in two weeks!!

Shades of gray

New Year's was a long time ago.  We have dabbled with being broken up, we have dabbled with being a couple, neither is perfect, but we tend to enjoy life a little more together than apart.  I suppose, that has to be enough for now.  He is still married, I still want more.  Things aren't so black and white.

n WHY e

It was NYE and I was doing battle with myself. My shame and my stomach were against me. I had spoken with my friend, but nothing was really resolved? I decided to resolve it myself. We were friends, nothing more. I could be an adult and pretend that the night before hadn’t happened right? Crap, I don’t think I had grown up that much in a day. Stupid holiday blues. Now I had to decide how I was going to spend my NYE.

My original plan was to spend it with my fabulous single gal pal hitting up the town, unfortunately, she was called back home to MI for a family emergency. So, now I had two choices, do I stay at home and go to sleep early having nursed my hangover, or to I go to the bar of shame. (While everyone reading this, and even as I write this, I SCREAM… no, don’t go to the bar. It’s like in a horror film when the lovely blonde opens the creaky bedroom door alone… insert scream here!!)

I put my party outfit on, and headed out for NYE. I spotted my friend and we made friendly eye contact, nothing more. I knew I still was unclear about our situation, I was confused, but I was going to keep it simple. There was absolutely no chance in hell of me getting drunk that night as I had just gotten over my hangover about 7 minutes before we had left for the bar, so I knew that I would at least have my sensibilities about me.

Midnight came and I sat with my roommate who was chatting up a gaggle of gentleman. She got a smack on the lips from one of them and I sat there content that I could handle the smell of beer without wanting to throw up. About five minutes later, my friend walked over and gave me a very chasted kiss on the lips wishing me a happy new year. Was my swoon noticeable? I sure hope not. He left to hang out with his friends, at his bar and I sat enjoying the atmosphere.

When the bar closed, people began filing out. My friend stopped me at the door and asked me if I wanted to hang out with him and his friends. It seemed very innocent, just friends. I could handle that, and we did just that. We hung out, all night. The group of us listened to music, we chatted, we laughed, sometimes we even danced. With each morning hour that passed, the group thinned. At 5 am there was only four of us left, a married couple and my friend and I. He and I at some point between 4 and 5am had moved closer to each other so just our sides were occasionally brushing up against each other. Between 5 am and 6 am, he had his arm around me, and was innocently kissing me on the lips every once in a while.

I looked up at him, while he had his arm around me, and told him that I wasn’t just using him for sex, as he had jokingly said earlier in the evening. He looked down at me with the most sincere eyes and said, “I know, after what you said last night, I know.”

Ummmmmm… What the hell did I say the night before. Once I had him in my bedroom last night, all memories ceased. (this was not inner monologue, I actually said that outloud.) He looked at me and seriously thought I was kidding. He asked me if I truly didn’t remember. I didn’t. He paused, and told me that I had told him that I loved him…

Huh!?! Ummm, were my ears burning, had I heard that correctly? Could my drunk self had known something that I didn’t know? Could my drunk self have betrayed my sober self so badly. Holy crap, was I the crazy drunk girl who told guys that she loved them?  I reacted poorly. I got angry. Not at him, but at me. I then asked, and what did you do then? He leaned in, close to my ear, and said, “I don’t know where we go from here and its taken me a while to get here, but I do know that I love you,” He continued, “I will always have a place in my heart for you.”

He was telling me that he loved me, but somehow it was coming out in the past tense. This was too much. WTF? I was angry. I was angry at myself for loosing control the night before, I was angry at myself for loosing control with him, and lastly I was angry at myself for getting caught up in this mess.

His friends finally left, and I was ready to leave myself. I was running on practically 24 hours without sleep and I had done battles with some pretty big demons that day. I was exhausted, and pissed off. I couldn’t process this. As we walked out to the car, he stopped me, and asked me what was wrong. Was he kidding, what was wrong?!?!?!  My inability to filter came into play and I just started babbling about how pissed off I was at myself. He asked me if I wanted to talk about all of this, I said yes, but not then, we drove to his place and went to sleep. I wish I had dreamt the past two days.

Down the Rabbit Hole

As far as friends go, this guy was turning out to be a pretty good one. He was always a good bar companion, he gave me great Christmas gifts, and was witty enough to keep me entertained. This was a strange gray area to navigate. I found myself at the bar on the eve of NYE. I had invited a couple of my friends from grad school to grab dinner with me. I had a bout with the holiday blues that day, and I needed a flirt fix. During our dinner my ‘buddy’ sat at the bar with some of his friends. I spent my dinner sporadically flirting with him, intentionally drawing him over to the table and flirting more.

Dinner ended and my friends left, but I had no intention of leaving. I needed that fix. One could compare my need to that of a drug addict. I knew that I would I would regret my decisions later, but oh how good it felt at the time. I continued to drink and throw all caution and care into the wind. It was like I was falling down the rabbit hole. Once I fell, the world just became a blurry world of drunk. I was functioning on my most primal levels.

Flirting soon became kissing, then an invitation back to my place was extended and accepted. I knew what I was doing, but the details were gone. Once I was in my place with him, a familiar situation, all memories disappeared.

I woke up with a start the next morning. I had to be at a funeral. A couple of days prior there was a death in my extended family. Crap. The headache I was feeling was tremendous. I laid awake looking at my friend. My stirring woke him up and we both just looked at each other. I suppose had I not been I such a hurry to kick him out of my bed to get ready for this funeral, it could have been more awkward. But, I didn’t have time for awkward. I had to get my ass in gear.

On the way to the funeral, I discovered that I was probably still a little drunk. I will admit that I was not very proud of myself at that moment in time, but again, I didn’t have time to condemn myself. Inside the church, I had to pull myself together and greet my parents and friends. My best friend and her boyfriend immediately called me out, telling me that I was exuding the smell of liquor. Great!!

The funeral began and so did the pounding in my head. Waves of naseau came and went. There was a battle between my hangover and my shameover for my stomach. Both, made me want to puke. Neither would go away. After the funeral, I quickly escaped the afternoon obligations. I needed McDonald’s fountain diet coke more than I had needed anything before in my life. After housing a 6 piece mcnugget and a large diet coke, I was feeling more like a human. I decided to man up and call my friend/lover/what?

Of course, he didn’t answer. I left him a painfully awkward message, I needed to figure out what the hell he was thinking. I needed us to be ok. Were we back together? Does sleeping with him mean that we were more than just friends? I had never had a casual relationship, and this was more than my simple brain could handle.

He called me back. I answered and I asked if we were ok. He replied of course. I never came right out and asked him what we were, but I left it at we were ok?? What?!?!

Snarky

I had to put the pub crawl behind me. It was a mistake and we were just going to be friends. This was going to be a challenge. I was dealing with a serious case of the holiday blues. The past couple of months had kicked my ass. Professionally, work was kicking my ass, personally I couldn’t pick myself up. I looked to my friends for help and all I could see was their diamond engagement rings or their cherub cheeked babies. I RSVP’d to my own pity party.

On the eve of Christmas Eve I stopped by the bar. I just wanted to chat with my ‘friend.’ During our adorable repartee, my friend mentioned in passing the he had Christmas gift for me. It caught me by surprise, and I tried to ignore it. After the third time that it was brought up, I knew that he wanted me to take notice. Crap, now I had to get him a gift. Shoot. What the hell was I supposed to get for my friend who had put thought into a Christmas gift for me? It was Christmas eve…. What the hell was I going to get. I was pissed, why did he have to buy me something?

Christmas Eve arrived and I was supposed to be at my parent’s house preparing for the holiday. I couldn’t spend time worried about what to buy this guy. I stopped at Walgreens to purchase tights, because that’s where I shop, and I thought, why not shop here for a gift? I took less than a minute to decide. On Thanksgiving, when my friend and I were seeing each other, he mentioned how little he liked Christmas. He said that he often felt that he put a great deal of thought into gifts for the people he cared about and in return he received stupid stuff that he didn’t need like socks and gift cards. How perfect, I purchased socks and a gift card! Christmas came and went, and I had wrapped my gift, not wanting to make the first move. This was his game, he had purchased me a gift first. He could text me to give me his present, I wasn’t going to call him. I didn’t have to wait long, his text came a couple of days after Christmas.

I met him at his bar, and he gave me his gift. Now, I’ll admit that I have never been a very good recipient of gifts. I unfortunately I've never had a poker face, I tend to show every thought or feeling that I have on my face, and often afterward those thoughts come out in words. Crap… now I was in the middle of a complicated situation and I had to open/give a gift.

I tore into the wrapping paper and opened up a lovely purple clutch. Oh my goodness, it was adorable. I was uncomfortable, how do I thank him appropriately, this was so weird. I awkwardly shoved my gift at him. He didn’t seem to be expecting a gift judging by his expression of surprise. I started to feel badly, I had bought him a snarky gift. I tried to explain my gift to him as he opened it, and he started laughing. He remembered that conversation and thought I was adorable, which was undeniable. He got it, he gave me a huge hug and definitely appreciated my snarkiness.

I sat and thought to myself, why had I ended things with him again? He understood me, he thought I was funny, and he knew things that I liked. Gosh, deep down inside, I knew that he was bad for me. The holiday blues were so thick that it was getting hard to remember why he was bad for me.

Santa Baby!

The pubcrawl was a Santa Suit pub crawl. My dumpee and I had been exchanging text messages for the past couple of days and things were weird. We were still friends, but friends who flirted? I knew what would happen on this pub crawl. I knew the minute I hopped on the bus and shot gunned my first beer. At bar one, we flirted casually. In bar three we flirted a bit more openly. By bar 6 he was grabbing my ass and at bar 7 we were kissing in the basement. We exchanged blurry conversation and made out some more.

When we got back to his bar we were flirting more and more. He took me down to the basement where we continued our unbelievable makeout. It felt so wrong, but so good. I was kinda drunk, but I knew what I was doing. As the night came to an end, he grabbed a cab, which seemed like the best idea for the both of us.

I woke up with the most incredible shameover. I felt terrible. I had dumped this guy and knowingly gone on this pub crawl to make out with him. Crap… so I sent him the apology text message. And the dance of confusion continued. We exchanged text messages where he told me sweet adorable things such as he liked kissing me, and everything was wonderful. Oh crap. What does that mean?

And Now He Pays Attention...

So I broke up with him on Sunday, and Wednesday I went to dinner at his bar. I wasn’t sure how to act when we were seeing each other I was definitely unsure how to act when were just supposed to be “friends.” I sat uncomfortably at a table trying to figure out what I would say, would I smile, would I be coy? This really sucked. I sat with my friend and ordered dinner. Let the game of confusion begin.

After ordering dinner, he spotted me, we exchanged smiles. When our food arrived he sat next to me and we chatted for a couple of minutes. When our second round of beers came, he came back. He started to try to convince me to go on a pub crawl that coming weekend. I knew that would end badly, but for some reason it felt soo good.

Before he left, he gave me a huge hug, he followed it up with a text saying that he was glad to see me. The next day he texted me again. Around noon, he called me. Had I entered some sort of alternative universe? WTF? I had ended things with the guy because he wouldn’t pay attention to me and now I was getting text messages and phone calls. This totally sucked. The shameful desire for the most unavailable guy came crawling back (as well as the best sex of my life). The desire to sit and shoot the shit came falling over me. I just wanted to laugh with him, flirt with him. I just wanted it all, and badly!

I spent the rest of the week convincing myself that I wouldn’t go on this pub crawl, that it was a bad idea, but I knew I was kidding myself. I knew that I would be right on that bus, and I knew that I would flirt with him. And crawl I did.

9pm

I had called him one Sunday morning and left him a message that I needed to talk. Everyone knows what that code means. He called me an untimely amount of time later, just as I was picking up my gal pal. Obviously, I couldn’t talk, but I told him thatit was important. I'm sure that he knew what that meant and told me that he would call me at 7pm. I spent the day planning on how I was going to break up with him. This was not something I was looking forward to. I really liked the guy.  This sucked.  Why couldn't he just be a good non-boyfriend?

As I was talking myself out of it, 7pm rolled around, and then 7:30, 7:45, 8:00pm. More time rolled by and my desire to break up came flooding back. At 9pm I finally got a call. I was pissed. I drove over to his house prepared and ready to break it off.

He met me at my car and I couldn’t look at him. We sat down and I just let it all spill out. I told him that I wanted more. I told him that I couldn’t just be sex. It was a difficult breakup because we still really liked each other. (Not to mention what amazing sex I was passing on)  After an hour, and several tears, on my end, we hugged and he asked me if we could still be friends. I said yes, and somewhere deep inside I hoped that it meant we would get back together. Somewhere deep down, I hoped that he would look deep in my eyes and say that I was the gal for him, that he would be a fabulous boyfriend and we would have a great relationship and “Happily Ever After…”

I drove home happy that I had ended it, disappointed that the guy I liked didn’t want me back, sad that I was alone, and hopeful that someday I would find the love of my life.

Casual + ME = ??

So, could I deal with a man who was going through a divorce? Well, he made me feel good, and he liked me. It had been a really long time since someone had liked me. Could I handle this? Ehhh… it felt so good. It was so wrong, this was so wrong, he wasn’t right for me. He couldn’t be my night in shining armor, but it felt so good. He was older, he had been married, and I liked the guy?

We started dating. I set up some boundaries, like we couldn’t get incredibly serious. I didn’t want to be called his girlfriend, and I didn’t to be serious, I didn’t want to fall in love with him. I realized I would probably be his rebound girl, but I was sure going to have fun while filling that role, right?

His bar was fabulous. It was where we would sit in the corner and exchange sarcastic comments about his customers and workers. We would share pints and wit and at the end of the night we would share the most amazing kisses. One night, not long into the relationship, while sharing wit and pints, I forgot just how many pints I had shared. Reality has it, that apparently, after several drinks, I get frisky. This night we didn’t stop at the porch, we didn’t stop at all. I invited him up.

We got to the bedroom and the chemistry didn’t stop at kissing. He was amazing. I had never had better and I wanted more. How had I missed out on something like that for so long? Where had this man been? (oh right married!) I wanted more.

This was new though. We were in a relationship, but we weren’t dating. Upon my insistence he wasn’t my boyfriend. I had created a casual relationship which left me in a great deal of confusion. How do I act when you are just seeing a guy? Do I wait for him to call me, how often should he be calling me? Do we go on dates? This was confusing, a casual relationship, with the most amazing sex of my life.

Things got more confusing as the weeks past. He would call me back infrequently, and untimely. We went on less dates, actually we didn’t go on any dates. We rarely hung out anywhere but his bar, and without drinks. Rarely did we ever hang out alone.  I began feeling like he wasn’t as interested in me anymore. Sitting at home waiting for the phone to ring felt incredibly pathetic. The sex was great, but it wasn’t a relationship.

I realized that he and I rarely talked about things that mattered. We spent most of our time shooting the shit over a couple of pints. I was his rebound girl, and it felt like crap. How lonely was I, how long could I be the reboundee? I was just sex, and it felt good for the time being, but no longer. I didn’t want casual anymore. I didn’t want to be his rebound. Oh crap… how was I going to dump a guy who never answered his phone?  It was my fault, I had told him that we couldn't be serious.  CRAP!!

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!

Nebraska Bobby

Written in December 2008

I met Nebraska Bobby on the internet on a dating website that I hadn’t had much luck with. Most of the guys that I met through this particular website were particularly sketchy, but I was online giving it another chance and ran across Nebraska Bobby’s profile. He fit my height requirement, my desired education level and had a full time job, so at least worth an email.

After I pressed the send button a message popped up that I had a message. How wonderful! To my surprise it was from Nebraska Bobby. We started email back and forth a couple of times and it was normal and fun. We talked about traveling, he liked road trips and seeing new places. I liked those kinds of things. Definitely a good sign. Bobby had listed his yahoo messenger in his profile, so I just thought I would add it to mine. Unbeknownst to me, when I added him to my profile yahoo sent him a message to confirm. I was horrified. I signed off yahoo immediately, he was going to think I was some sort of stalker. I would fall into the category of crazy online loony girl. This was the first regular that I had come across in a while, and yahoo had blown it… stupid yahoo messenger.

I knew I had to own it. There was no way that I could avoid this one. I signed back onto to yahoo. There was an IM waiting for me asking, who I was. I admitted my nuttiness and an acceptable im chat ensued. He told me about his stable job, and his annoyance with the suburbs, both things that I could relate to, both things screamed regular guy. Woo Hoo a regular guy, let the online dating games begin!

Online email dating games I have played, but instant message games were totally new. Every time I signed on to my yahoo email I would see if Nebraska Bobby was signed on or if he was busy or if he was available. Then if he was available, should I start the instant message conversation, should I wait for him to message me? How does it work ? A couple of weeks ago I went and saw the movie He’s Just Not that into you, it gave me some perspective that I have kept with me. If he was interested he would start a convo, here I add my own rule, unless I have something exceptionally intriguing to say.

Well we had a couple of conversations, most he started, and most were pretty good conversations. I typically ended them because I was getting tired, or at least that was the excuse I was telling myself. Honestly the conversations were lagging, and I was getting tired of carrying them, I could only be so witty so late into the night.

Anyway, I was signed on to yahoo one morning at work and Nebraska Bobby was online. I took the stance that I would basically ignore him, I was at work. About five minutes later, to my delight, he imed me!! We began chatting back and forth for a couple of minutes when he asked me if I had heard of a band called the Shiny Toy Guns. I had not, but I did google them. Bobby told me about how he had won tickets to their concert for that night, but didn’t have anyone to go with him. Was he asking me out? I wasn’t letting him off easily, he would have to ask out rightly. Finally, after skirting around the issue for a couple of messages he asked me if I wanted to with him. We settled on the plans for the night which included dinner before the late night concert. I had just agreed to go on a date that night!

Oh Crap… I was going to have to bust my ass home to get ready just to head back into the city. Nothing was going to ruin my high though. I suppose that my favorite thing about dating is the excitement. The thrill. I love the anticipation. I love the high of dating. I look forward to meeting someone new, the possibilities that carries with it. That day was not different. I busted my ass home to change into something appropriate for a concert and dinner at a bar. I felt I chose just the perfect outfit and into traffic I went.

I got to the bar absurdly early. I had to account for traffic and rain right, well I accounted too much for both and was there a half hour early. I knew I wasn’t going in that early. No way, I decided to way in my car. I checked my makeup, reapplied deodorant, (nervous sweat never good), checked my jewelry, and finally checked my breath.

Mother nature wanted to balance out my excitement for the evening, so she gave me a pouring rain showers. Rain plus a straightened hair equals disaster, but thankfully, in my mess of a car I had an umbrella buried deep under some random CRAP. I found it and felt like a super hero already. In my head I was hoping that that would not have been the climax of my evening, sadly it may have been.

While I was checking my bodily scents, Nebraska Bobby had texted me that he was sitting in the bar. I walked into the restaurant, did a turn around the bar looking for Bobby, and I couldn’t find anyone that looked like him. This was not a good sign. I decided to call him and watch for people picking up their cell phone. The first guy that I had seen in the bar picked up his cell and I walked over. I considered hugging, but instead we awkwardly shook hands. Thank goodness I had taken the time to wipe the hand sweat off!

Let the games begin. I wish I could say that conversation flowed, it didn’t. He had no problem talking about himself, but the really neat thing about conversation, is it takes two people’s involvement and only one person was talking. I kept trying to interject with stories of my own, but I had nothing to relate. He was asking very little about me, I think he was just shy. I couldn’t handle shy, it was so much work!

The second part of the date, yes there were two parts already planned, was a concert. I had never heard of the band, but I was always up for a good time. The concert was in a secret location, put on by a local indie radio station. I was actually pretty excited about it. At least at the concert we didn’t have to talk. Unfortunately, Nebraska Bobby could also be known as get there awkwardly early Bobby. We got to the concert two hours early. I was already struggling for conversation and the thought of two hours was unbearable. The icing on the cake was that the event was being hosted by my favorite vodka company and I had driven, no drinks for me.

The two hours dragged, it was painful. We were horribly awkward, I wanted to leave, get out, jump ship, but I had made a commitment. Happy people were running around with their delicious beverages and engaging conversation and I was stuck with Nebraska Bobby.

FINALLY the concert started and it was not my taste. It was a weird mix between hard rock and angry music. What do you do at a concert like this? You can’t dance, I had never heard them, so I couldn’t even fake that I knew the words, I was outta my element. I took a step back though, and realized that I could just enjoy the moment, I wasn’t expected to talk!!

The minute the concert ended I bolted for the door. I dropped Bobby at his car and was very careful not to say that I would talk again, I had no intention of carrying his conversation baggage again.

Cold Fusion

Written in November 2008

Heart break is painful. People have been going through heart break since the beginning of time, sure I have no proof of it, but as I know women, and I think I do, we have either been suffering from heart break or making others suffer from the beginning of time. This time though, I was the one suffering.

I had strange ways of dealing with my suffering. Instead of sitting around wallowing in my pain, and eating my depression, I decided to join an online dating web site. The first site that I joined was free. It had a totally cheesy name, and didn’t ask too many personality questions, but pictures were imperative. Now, I realize that I am more Drew Barrymore, than Heidi Klume, but Drew isn’t horrible looking, right? Luckily, I practically had a glamour shot from yearbook picture from my previous job that I had at the high school.

I got some hits, but most of the chat requests were from skeevy men who were far from gentlemanly! This method was certainly not easing heartbreak, in fact, it was making me wish for the ‘dude’ back that broke my heart. I needed a to try something else. While browsing the web one morning, I literally stumbled upon a website that looked hip, cool and it seemed to have credibility, so I jumped right in. It asked way more personality questions than the other website, already I felt better about this one. I took a great deal of time and care on my profile.

My use of sporting analogies would have impressed John Madden. (Look another one!) Again, I used my glamour shot yearbook pic and off I was, another online dating adventure.
This website was different though, it did not let you browse through the gentlemen, it matched you. Sounds cool right, NOT, it stunk, it only gave you ten men to look at per day. For a girl getting over a break up, those were not good numbers, I wanted men by the hundreds to assure me that there still were actually men out there. To be honest, more than half of the heart ache was caused by the debilitating fear of growing old alone.

Anyway, back to online dating, (something much more uplifting that growing old alone!). When presented with the ten men that this website provides, essentially, I was able to give each a thumbs up or a thumbs down. Once this was done, they would have to do the same for me. After that stage, meaningless priority scales are exchanged. An example of this priority scale was that I had to rate on a scale of one to ten how important humor, money, and religion were to me. Typically, when at this stage with a guy, I ignored all of that crap, just so that I could get to the email stage of the process. Communication either live or via email is what gets you to know people right?

So, I finally got to the email stage with one of my guys. I was so excited, I would be able to finally find out about this guy… heartbreak what? His name was Shawn, he was tall and slender in his pictures, so cute. One of his pictures was taken in Ireland, already I was impressed. Unfortunately, Shawn was not much of an emailer. He had a tendency to shoot rapid fire questions rather than exchanging a friendly email dialogue, I felt like I was on CNN Cross Fire. Ever the optimist, I kept the faith that perhaps he just wasn’t much of a typist. Over one of our emails Shawn asked if we could talk on the phone, I was estactic. I was desired, I was wanted, and now with phone time, I would be able to shine! He called me one night, I screened the call of course, then called him back. I was terrified. I hadn’t flirted with a guy in quite some time. What if I had forgotten, is it really like riding a bike? What does that even mean, I can only imagine what getting on a bike must feel like after not having done it in forever… TERRIFYING!

Surprisingly, I had something to say. We exchanged pleasantries about our work life, his being an electrician, mine in business. We talked about all the stupid stuff that you cover on a first conversation. At one point I started to notice myself getting a bit out of breathe, huh, that was weird, I mean, I do exercise. Had I really been talking so much that I couldn’t catch my breathe… the answer to that was yes. I had a major case of oral diarrhea. I paused for a minute to catch my breath and all that I heard was my breath. My oral sickness was due to the fact that Shawn wasn’t just afraid of the keyboard, but apparently his voice too!

Again, ignoring reason, I gave Shawn the benefit of the doubt. He was shy, he was nervous. Perhaps he would relax after a couple of conversations. Well a couple of conversations we had, he did warm up, a bit. He finally asked me out, after several conversations. Now, I was even more nervous, I hadn’t lost that relationship weight yet. I was going to meet up with a tall, slender, shy gentlemen at a tavern with no time to drop twenty pounds. Oh well, it was time for me to realize that I was the one dating, now, not twenty pounds from now.

Upon arrival at the tavern I found myself face to face with Shawn, four years older than his picture and forty pounds heavier. I no longer worried about my twenty pounds. So, I sat down, feeling somewhat betrayed, but figured a girl’s gotta eat right? Our conversation was slow, topics such as work and family were vaguely touched upon. I felt myself leading the conversation again, but not because I wanted to, but because without doing so, there would have been no conversation.

After ordering dinner, something that I did not want to, I prefer the first date drink only option, Shawn seemed to warm up and began talking. It was when dinner was served that he really began talking. Somewhere along the conversation journey the topic of alternative energy sources was brought up, not by me. I thought that I could keep up, I mentioned wind energy, and e-85, I thought that I was good.

Suddenly Shawn brought up cold fusion. What… cold fusion? The only thing that I could think of to add to the cold fusion conversation was about the movie The Saint. So, I basically, shouted, oh yea, they talk about that in the movie the Saint with Val Kilmer and Elizabeth Shue right? He looked as lost as I was. So, I tried to explain the plot, I even included character names, (shocking that I knew them yes, I went through a Val Kilmer stage). Shawn looked at me as though I had three heads, it was with that look that I recognized on my face when he was seriously talking about alternative energy sources. It was basically at that moment that I knew, there would be no date two.