Tuesday, August 25, 2009


Being aware of your flaws is a good thing. It helps you to isolate and correct them. However, I have know of my inability to control the disgusted looks that creep on to my face during conversations, movies, social outings, concerts, meals, etc for years and have thus far been unable to fully block their occurrence. With that being said I can only imagine the face I made when my date told me he did not have friends growing up because he was "gifted". Apparently, this was the sole reason for him not having had a sleepover or any other kind of social life beyond the classroom.

I must admit, I'm a little take aback. Where I went to school they called it "gifted and talented" and I had friends. Maybe it was the talented part that made the difference.

I was feeling sorry for Gifted and his lack of sleepovers. Then his life became more tragic with the knowledge that his parents used to buy him board games but he had no one to play them with... so he played with his mom... once or twice... then she ditched him as well. Yikes.

I ask again why he thought he had no friends. Gifted abandons the term "gifted" for a reference to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.


"You know, X-Men."


"You've heard of X-Men, right?"

"Yes, I graduated with James Marsden's sister."


"The guy with the sunglasses that keep him from lasering people with his eyes."



Clearly this is going well. He orders pot stickers. They come. He looks dismayed that he waitress brings vegetable. She asks if we wanted pork. He seems unable to speak as he looks at her incredulously. I tell her we're fine. She leaves. Gifted searches the table for chopsticks. There are none. Just napkins and forks.

"Do you see any chopsticks?"

"No, just forks."

"How are we supposed to eat?"

I didn't go to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, but "I'm guessing the forks."


The waitress reappears with water and asks if we need anything else. Again, gifted becomes mute. Perhaps he is using his mutant ability to speak with her telepathically. So I ask for chopsticks... out loud.

The food arrives moments later... family style. I ordered pad thai with tofu and he ordered lo mein with pork. I offer him some pad thai, he offers me pork. After we both decline he questions my no.

"But I ordered pork."


"It's close to bacon."


"You like bacon."

"I like the smell of bacon."

"So you like bacon. You like pork."

"No, I'm a pescatarian."


"Pescatarian. Like vegetarian with fish."

"No, you told me you liked pork."

While I'm certain that I talk a lot and tell people way too much information about myself, I am also certain I don't tell people I like pork. Gifted however is not letting go of this so easily, so I change the subject.

Awkward conversation.

I change the subject.

Awkward conversation.

I change the subject.

This drags on for nearly two hours, when I glance at my watch and say that it is late and time for bed.

"Is that an invitation?"

"An invitation for what?"

"You said it was time for bed."

I'm thoroughly disgusted even though I'm sure he's mostly kidding. Sensing my pain, the waitress brings the check and the fortune cookies.

He hands me a fortune cookie. I happen to think this screws up the magic of the fortune, but really at this point, who cares.

My fortune tells me to be frugal. Okay. Accept that he wants to pay for dinner. Financially frugal. Don't feel obligated to kiss him even though you feel sorry for him. Sexually frugal. Don't respond if he texts you for another date. Textually frugal.

Gifted's fortune tells him not to get overzealous and expect too much. He reads this aloud and then looks at me and laughs saying, "I guess this means I shouldn't try to kiss you."

"Yep, pretty much."

Friday, August 21, 2009

31.Postlude: The Call

Ahh... the call that made a girl's heart feel a little less abandoned.

London and I were talking today (for me)/tonight (for him).

He quietly told me he loved the stars.

He whispered that he missed the stars.

He gently told me he feels the same way about a girl called Lacey as he feels about the stars.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

31.The Conclusion

London went back to London today. Eff London (the location not the person).

I had a meltdown. A big one.

I will never have any love for Terminal D again. Full of London (the person not the location) stealing bastards.

31.10: 10 Days of Greatness

Today wrapped up ten days of relaxed joy.

London and I finished up the last bit of cleaning at the lake house and headed back toward DFW. He's pretty hung over and I am hungry. We make a great pair right about now.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

31.5: Wayne's Wine Bar Doesn't Have Bad Mojo After All

London and I had another proper date night, this time at Wayne's Wine Bar (you remember, the place that I used to like a lot more, but then I had a few bad dates there... the pepper in my teeth date and the date where I was far more interested in the guitarist than the date date. I was certain though that if there was a way to break this cycle it would be with London.

We enjoyed great wine and great food. Wayne told us of the trouble with gay men who like large hands, the Main Street Bakery Staff was good for a laugh, and there was a very unfortunate woman waiting for her husband, sort of.

She was loudly discussing in a somewhat slurred voice that she was interested in going home with someone other than her husband because he simply didn't satify her. Apparnetly they weren't frequenting that activity ofen enough for her. So an awkward fellow sitting at the bar offered his services.

"I'm sure I could take care of that, but you're married."

"No thanks... I want to be with a woman. I'm a lesbian."

Okay, she's married but thinks she's a lesbian. I think she's just drunk. Either way, she spotted me. I'm not sure what about me looks like I'd be down with getting it on with a married chick, but regarless I was saved because as she told the entire place why she wanted to go home with me and what she wanted, despite London sitting beside me and not being a part of her plan... her husband walked up behind her. Yikes.

Either way, London and I left shortly after that mess and enjoyed an evening on the deck. Another great night. :)

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

31.4: Pork, Potatos, and an Awful Excuse for Corn

I don’t really enjoy cooking. It’s only fun if you are cooking for more than one person (the extra people should be people you actually like, otherwise it is still no fun). So tonight, because there was an amazing man making my house smell like testosterone and sex appeal, I broke out the pots and pans.

London had picked out pork in some form that I did not recognize (to be fair I can only identify bacon, pepperoni, and pork chops). I let him know that I did not mind cooking it, but he might mind having to eat it when I was done. So into the kitchen he came to finish up with his meat while I finished the sides and my main dish.

It was a nice sit down meal (at the table, which might be the first time I’ve ever eaten at the table since moving into the house over a year ago). The pork came out well. The potatoes were fabulous. The rolls were warm and buttery. The corn tasted like death.

Monday, August 10, 2009

31.3: London does Fort Worth

This morning, I took London to brunch with the ladies. He can’t stop talking about how one of the girls (who shall remain nameless to protect her from the masses) thought he might know someone she knew in London like it was a small town. I remind him that she did not intend it that way, she was just making conversation. He still won’t let it go.

After a ton of time with friends, we decided to take it easy tonight. London and I avoided the crowds and headed to Sundance Square for dinner and a movie. It was a proper date night with great conversation and a relaxing movie about psychotic killers.


Sunday, August 09, 2009

31.2: British Invasion Meets West Virgina

Tonight London and I met up with other like minded weekenders for sushi and then drinking and dancing at the Glass Cactus. For anyone not from the Metroplex, the Glass Cactus can be either exciting or unsettling but always an interesting look into the local culture.

Having lived in this part of the country most of life, I find the drinks at the Glass Cactus grossly overpriced. London on the hand thought they were pleasantly under priced. Londoners have clearly been bamboozled by the beer industry.

We danced, we drank, we danced some more. London tried to buy beer. “Bud Light” translated, “Bud” did not. He was frustrated, but persistent.

By the end of the evening, Montana had laid the smack down about his overabundance of manners, he had started a legitimate Texas line dance (his lie to perpetuate, not mine), we had seen the most frightening woman belly thing dancing on the stage (The quickest way to get hot girls escorted off the stage? Throw in an ugly chick.), and meandered back to the car.

Then it happened.

“Take me home… county road… to a place… I belong… take me home… West Virginia… take me home… I belong… country road… take me home…”

I can only assume this was a British remix of John Denver?

He crawled up the stairs to the bedroom singing to himself and drifted off to sleep while humming about a state he couldn’t locate on a map to save his soul… not that West Virginia is a major global player… or player at all.

Saturday, August 08, 2009

31.1:British Invasion- 0 to 60

Nana, Primos, Quarter Bar, Trinity Hall...

What a mess. London is here and I feel like a school girl, unsure of where I stand, insecure about how I must have changed since we last saw each other, and giddy still just to have him here.

The night went by so fast. We had wine, then margaritas and beer, then mixed drinks, then I can't remember... dang that Trinity Hall.

I am a lady and thus I do not kiss and tell (okay I do), but if you guess, well- I can't be blamed for that.

Friday, August 07, 2009

Date 31.i: Prelude to the British Invasion

As I stepped out of my car in the parking lot in front of DFW’s terminal C, I quickly dropped the towel covering my swimsuit and grabbed the shorts and sweatshirt from the backseat. I twisted my hair into a less than fashionable bun that went nicely with the just rolled out of bed looking outfit I had thrown on just 10 yards from a line of taxis. I checked myself in the side mirror on last time, reminded myself that objects in the mirror are closer than they appear and I had not lost weight in the last 10 minutes, and headed toward baggage claim. Well, Lacey, chocks away.

As I sat on the floor staring at my phone, wondering whether London would be dismayed by my post swim lesson look and question why he’d spent hours traveling to get to me I spotted them out of the corner of my eye… foreign shoes. I pride myself on my uncanny ability to sport foreign men by their footwear and London did not disappoint with his distinctly British trainers.

 Insert slightly awkward hug here.

Then, “is that your bag?” “No.” “Is that your bag?” “No.” “Is that your bag?” “No.” “Is that your bag?” “No.” “Is that your bag?” “No.” “Is that your bag?” “No.” “Is that your bag?” “No.” “Is that your bag?” “No.” “Is that your bag?” “No.” “Is that your bag?” “No.” “Is that your bag?” “No.” “Is that your bag?” “No.” “Is that your bag?” “Yes.”

As we drove to my house it was clear that exhaustion had sucked the quick wit (and ability to keep his eyes fully open) right out of him. No bother.

A few moments of wanting to kiss him later, I crawled into bed with the dog to call the cruise director and apprise her of the situation.

Tomorrow I will go to work and he will rest and when I get home, Robert is your father’s brother.