Sunday, November 22, 2009

Date 34.2: Tweed Crash

To be completely fair before I get started, I can be fairly bitchy.

After dinner, I really liked the Protestant-turned-Catholic-turned-Agnostic. However, the following morning he sent me a text message that started with “Heya Senorita.” This might have been endearing if I had not been at home sick again. I tell him this and he replies with “Aww did I make you sick again? =(“ Make me sick again? I don’t think I follow… I was sick on Wednesday and I am still sick today. Then at 9pm a question about indie music and cellos (which I do love both, but I’m at home sick and could use some non texting time). Then at 12:30am “What are you up to?” Probably still being sick, back off. And again at 1:12am “What a great concert. Youre asleep I assume?” No, I thought it would be fun to take my projectile vomit out on the town… of course I’m asleep. Then Saturday more texting and asking if I’m going out (again because he doesn’t understand sick). And Sunday more texting. Monday more texting. Tuesday more texting. Wednesday more texting. Thursday more texting. Friday more texting… and he’s decided to ride a tricycle at the tweed ride. Saturday more texting… then a call. I tell him I am at the vet and I will need to talk to him later. He hangs up and texts some more. Then he asks to borrow my bike. I tell him that’s fine and I’ll just bring it with me on Sunday. He wants to be helpful “I’ll come pick it up.” No, that wouldn’t make any sense since it will fit in my car and you are texting too much and I don’t want you to know where I live.

So here we are… Sunday. I call him, he doesn’t answer. He texts almost immediately. Because I didn’t text him back last night to tell him (again) that I would bring the bike, he has made other plans but is canceling them and heading toward Dallas. My downstairs bathroom floods, the dog is sick, I snap at my undeserving brother because he’s the only person around and then I head toward Dallas. PtCtA is texting. I tell him where we are unloading the bikes. He can’t find us. I see him standing less than 100 yards away. I don’t have the energy to tell him he’s looking right at us.

He stands idly by as my brother airs up the tires, puts wheels back on the bikes, etc. He doesn’t speak… doesn’t help… just watches.

We get ready just in time and join the group as they ride by us. PtCtA is complaining about the bike. I’m sure the issue stems from the bike being taken apart so it and two other bikes would fit in my car. I ignore the complaints and continue to pedal. Endorphins start to course through my body and my mood is already improving. I hear a crash behind me. I glance around. Brother… check. Athena (in a good way)… check. PtCtA… hmmm... MIA.

So PtCtA is MIA and my phone starts vibrating. You’ll never guess… it’s a text. He has wrecked the cruiser and says he will meet us at the car. So, I cannot finish the Tweed Ride with the group, I must cut the lop short and head back to my car where PtCtA is nowhere to be found. He is lost. Lost because we parked on Ross and he wrecked on Ross and something about that was confusing. So my brother walks to the corner and waves him in like airport employee in neon orange protection and a vest. Then as we work on the cruiser and load up the car, PtCtA stands idly by. He doesn’t speak… doesn’t help… just watches.

I ask if he wants to meet us at the bar. My brother, Athena (in a good way), and I head back out on our bikes to catch up with the group. When we arrive at Eno’s in Oak Cliff PtCtA is standing alone waiting. Then he sits beside me while I eat a cheese plate (because I love cheese) and doesn’t talk. Then we part ways. At this point I’ve decided I would rather ride Messenger Bag... I mean ride with Messenger Bag… he’s so cute.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Date 34: Baja Grill with the Protestant-turned-Catholic-turned-Agnostic (PtCtA for short)

I wasn't a huge fan of the restaurant, but I was very pleased with the company. PtCtA was funny, a great conversationalist (none of those awkward pauses that are so common with men), and cute. There were some thing that caught me off guard though... there are reasons all his pictures are either really old or with hats... bald... very very very bald. And he gave himself a shot at the table. Addict? Not likely. Diabetic? Probably. Will I go out with him again? Definitely.

Thursday, November 05, 2009

Art. Art? And Dallas Society

When I worked in sports I had the benefit of free tickets to different sporting events. The Greek Goddess has better perks. She enjoys events graced by women in shoes that cost more than my house payment each month… Dallasites. Not the new era of Dallasites where anyone willing to spend $15 on a mixed drink and wear pastels gets to call themselves part of the club, but old school Dallasites- these people have money.

Art + Advocacy is a charity event held in a swank office space (where the Greek Goddess works when she is not in the Northlands under the watchful eyes of JCP) near Deep Ellum. There was great food, wine, champagne, music, an auction, fabulous shoes, trashy (yet expensive) clothes, and more people watching than you can shake a stick at.

The Greek Goddess helped me get dressed (thankfully), loaned me some tights (which I need to return, and taught me how to put on lipstick (I know, I’m almost 30 and had no idea) before we headed to the event. She has regaled me with tales of a severely intoxicated woman with a pension for petit fours from the year before so I was pumped.

We made our way through the room, looking at the various pieces up for auction, grabbed a few drinks and settled in to stare. The Greek Goddess left me alone for what was likely only a few minutes, but long enough for me to meet one of the “artists”.

++++Brief aside++++
This looks far better in photo than the “artist” could have wished for it to look in person... Hence “Artist”

This was fabulous both in person and in photo... hence artist without snarky quotes.

Earlier in the evening the Greek Goddess had pointed out a particularly disappointing Pollock knockoff, so imagine my delight to find that I was speaking with that very “artist”. She slurred that she liked my dress. She asked if I was an artist since my outfit was “too creative” to just be an outfit. I told her I was not an “artist” though I refrained from pointing out that I was an artist without snarky quotes, just not one displaying anything there. She loudly asked if my purple and black Ironman Timex was a statement of some kind and without giving me time to respond decreed that she just
loved it.

You see these sorts of drunk people on television, but rarely in real life. Head swaying from side to side, talking steps like her shoes are made of lead, laughing at everything, taking pictures with everyone. It was classic.

When the Greek Goddess returned I am certain (though she would never admit it, even to herself) that she was terribly jealous of my new friend. Who doesn't want to be friends with the woman who never painted before last year but her hairdressers brother was part of the planning committee and asked her to donate a piece and he would make sure it got it and since it sold they asked her to donate another piece this year? Well. Hmm. If we had known it was that easy.

So to wrap up a very long and exciting evening (which ended with the Greek Goddess and I looking like we might be on a late night lesbian date in Lakewood- Hell yes, my date was kick ass), we are so finding a way to get out artwork into next year's event even if it means I have to leave my orgasmic, head-massaging, ear rubbing, sexy hairdresser from the same one this lady uses (which based on the hairdresser's haircut I've seen, the hairdresser is an "artist" too).

Sunday, November 01, 2009

Date 27.2: Wedding Date

At the last minute before the wedding of the decade, I started feeling that total discomfort that comes with going to a wedding without a date so I emailed Bus Trip fishing for information... was he going, who was he going with, did he want to ride together?

I swung by his place to pick him up. I stood in the dining area putting on fishnets while he stood near by working with his cuff links. It was a very standard scene... for people who live together. For us though, it's a little strange.

The wedding was beautiful the reception was great, but...

Since we did not RSVP as a pair we were not seated together. This gave me time to catch up with other people though and to have a moment that rivals the one with Bus Trip when we had the eHarmony conversation. I was at a table with another of my eHarmony matches. I swear the number of people eHarmony wanted me to love that I already knew in real life and didn't have a spark with is comparable to the national debt.

I didn't see much of Bus Trip after that. I danced with messenger bag (who makes more of an appearnace later), listened to a great band... again with messenger bag, and chatted with some randoms out for halloween.

All told, it was an interesting eveing filled with men to look at... but look only.