Kissing frogs would be an upgrade from my current situation...

Myspace Top 20

2011-05-26T01:53:00.004-05:00

Sometimes I like to go back through old blog posts and see what I was thinking in 2006. The sad news... I had a blog years earlier than that, but I deleted it, along with the first hand account of being in college and being so broke that I ate a potato with NOTHING on it followed by a dessert of licking my finger then dipping it into a cap full of cupcake decorating sprinkles. Not to worry. I'm so broke now that I'm back in grad school, that if the guy I'm dating doesn't feed me this weekend, it will be sprinkles from the cap for me. I'll let you know.

More importantly, do you remember Myspace? It's like the Danny Bonaduce of the internet. Used to be fun, now it's just a sad sad place. Cryspace... :(

So apparently I needed a place to host photos for my Myspace top 20 (ooo... in your face Myspace, I broke the code of the top ten... doubled that bee-otch!) April 9th, 2006, frozen in time... BAM!

Before I can get to the point, I actually decided to check out my space... I don't remember it looking that way. You should look at yours... very strange.

So my MySpace top 20 from April 2006... most of you still exist...

Drum roll please...

Kendall
Michel
Nathan
Kyle
Kayla
Ryan
Nicole
Erica
Zack
Ollie
Jennifer
Jackie
Jason
Jodi
Jenn
Austin
Gerond
Darcey
Chelsea
Alecia

Wondering what you looked like back in the day? Something like this... or this...

Enjoy.

Sleeping Dogs

2011-05-26T00:47:00.003-05:00

First, I'll start with my own sleeping dog. He's been having storm angst for the last few days. He doesn't do well with the hail and thunder, so neither of us get a lot of sleep. Today, he's done nothing but sleep. I'm certain he's trying to catch up... maybe that works for dogs. So I'm letting my sleeping dog lie... or something...

But what does that really mean? Let sleeping dogs lie.

It means one "shouldn't disturb a situation as it would result in trouble or complications."

So, you're just supposed to sit back and hope it works itself out? Well, that doesn't seem like it would work for anything except maybe clothes that are already in the dryer.

Meeting the Parents

2011-05-23T02:24:00.000-05:00

Oh my.

Oh my, oh my, oh my...

So with the upcoming long weekend for him (I have been being a bum since finals), I asked the New Guy if he wanted to do something. I really shouldn't leave so much up for choice. He said he wanted to go to Austin.

You may be asking yourself why this is noteworthy.

Well...

His parents live in Austin.

His very Catholic parents.

His very Catholic parents who I can only assume will not be impressed with a protestant.

Oh my.

"Be yourself and I'm sure they'll like you, " I hear you saying to yourself as you read this. But really, let's be honest with each other... that isn't always true. But, I will pack a few cardigans and a sundress or two, put on my best smile, cross my fingers, and perhaps see if I can find a priest to put in a good word for me.

420... Oops

2011-04-20T19:43:00.002-05:00

No, not "oops, I accidentally smoked weed today"... more "oops, I talked about someone to someone else without using names, but due to the nature of the information shared, I found out later that there is a good chance that the someone I was talking to will be able to identify that someone else."

No big deal?

It was during a job interview.

Still no big deal?

I'm pretty sure the someone I was talking about interviewed before me... and talked about the same thing... but with different details...

Really, still not a big deal?

Said person probably won't get an offer because of what I said. I guess it only becomes an issue if I get an offer and don't take it... Crud.

More to come...

New Guy... Haha... I'm Lame

2011-03-29T02:25:00.000-05:00

Haha... fun counter. Good times.

Meeting the Classmates

2011-03-27T02:26:00.000-05:00

Yesterday (after the disagreement), New Guy and I actually spent the entire day together. That has to be good right? He didn't bail after the tears... and I didn't bail after his man brain took over.

We had a nice lunch... finally... at Into the Glass in Grapevine. I love that place. They always make me food that isn't on the menu. New Guy should like them because their truffle mac n cheese improved my attitude immensely.

After a long lunch and a stroll around Grapevine, I headed home to change before a classmates birthday. I was feeling pretty good about the bunch of people New guy would be meeting. It's nice when it's people you can trust not to make inappropriate comments.

Dinner with everyone was great. After we ate, New Guy and I headed to Barnes and Noble in Sundance Square. He has mentioned before that he doesn't understand how someone could just wander around a bookstore. Since he's met me, we've made it a habit.

It's nice to have someone to just walk around with. To look at books with. To share a chair with and debate which of the 3o cupcake recipe books might be the best. It's nice because my mom and I used to go to the bookstore all the time. New Guy knows that so he takes me now. He sits on the floor with stacks of books around him and humors me for an hour or so. He's such a nice man. I'm not sure how I got so lucky.

Long term future? I hope so :)

First Fight... Not to be Confused with Fist Fight

2011-03-26T02:27:00.000-05:00

I woke up about an hour and half before the New Guy.

How do I know this?

Oh, because I'm a sinner. But that's okay, Jesus still likes me. I know because I talk to Him myself... because I'm protestant.

So, I'm laying in the living room on the couch reading a book for school... because in addition to being a sinner, I'm a nerd. A hungry sinner/nerd.

So New Guy finally wakes up about an hour later and I tell him I'm hungry... but the spelling bee is on... and New Guy is a sinner/nerd too and he wants to watch it first. No big deal. I'm okay.

Toward the end of the spelling bee, I suggest a restaurant that is a few blocks away... because as I mentioned, I'm hungry.

New Guy counters with a restaurant about 20 minutes away.

I'm a girl, so rather than be direct about being past hungry, I agree. But I start to simmer.

He's a guy. So he doesn't notice.

There is a ton of traffic and road construction... 45 minutes later we are finally off the highway. What is that in the distance? It's his bike shop. Not my bike shop. His. But I'm hungry. I told him that a few hours ago. So we went ahead to the restaurant and ate and there was no fight.

Kidding. Don't be disappointed. He's from Mars. I'm from Venus. Of course he stopped at the bike shop. And ate a snack there. Boiling point? Yes.

I was so mad that I cried. No joke. Tears. The salty salty tears of a sinner/nerd who was hungry.

Worst Movie Ever, But Dinner Was Great

2011-03-25T02:28:00.000-05:00

The New Guy and I headed to the Love Shack in So7 tonight. That place is so great. I had the fried portabello and he had some man masterpiece that included an egg on his burger... dirty love... yes.

Us? No! That's what his burger was called!

If you haven't been to Love Shack, you really should go. They have snuggies for when it's cold that they loan out. Sexy ones. Leopard print.

Quick aside... I'm totally watching COPS Houston and the cop is talking about how he had to start wearing contacts because he would get out of his car on a stop and his glasses would fog up... lame...

They always have nice low key music and you can make smores over their little fire pit. Greatness.

After dinner we headed back to the New guys place to watch a movie. I'm going to say I must really like him... like-like him... like him enough to watch the WORST MOVIE OF ALL TIME.

BEING JOHN MALKOVICH

Ugh. Kill me.

***spoiler alert***

So there is this short office with a secret door that leads through a gross tunnel that drops you into John Malkovich's head and then spits you out on the side of the road. So three people are all tangled up in love triangle, sort of, plus John Malkovich, though he doesn't realize it. Then one person locks another in a cage with a chimp and tricks her with his tomfoolery so he can be with the girl who is kinda turning into a lesbian with the girl in the cage but through John Malkovich...

Want to hear more?

Of course not... because this is the WORST MOVIE EVER.

But I watched it. So I could spend more time with the New Guy. Cuddling on the couch. And thus... like-like.

Sometime in September

2011-03-01T02:30:00.000-06:00

Updating this was clearly not my priority. I'm not even sure at this point I could really say what happened. Camping in the summer was weird. I just wasn't into the Gingerneer anymore. He seemed more interested in my brother... and my friends than me. Then the movie date... ugh. I tried to break up with him. He wouldn't take it. I gave in. He was (and is) such a nice guy, but seriously, I was over it. A few break ups later and he still was not accepting my decision.

So things in other arenas were taking a drastic dive. My mom was dying. I was in my first semester of grad school and I was overwhelmed with everything. I did something I never do. I forgot my phone at home...

When I finally got home from class, I had half a dozen missed calls from family. There was no way this was good. I had half a dozen missed calls from the Gingerneer, ugh... seriously?

I called my mom and then my aunt when my mom didn't answer. She was getting worse and they were on their way to my house where hopefully we could get better treatment.

Call waiting beeped. Gingerneer.

I ignored it.

It beeped again.

This was my breaking point. Perhaps it was the overly conservative behavior sexually (that does not make a girl feel pretty). Perhaps it was his ex situation (seemed like she was less of an ex than either of them might admit to). Perhaps it was, as he said, me being too emotional and taking it out on him (very likely). But, I was done. I was hateful. I was terrible. I was selfish and mean and awful. But we were finally broken up.

My mom didn't like him anyway. we had talked about it a few weeks before she got sick. Honestly, there was no way he could have ever overcome that one thing. Her opinion trumped everything else... because she was always right.

So why am I posting this now? Well, because there is someone new... and it seems strange to talk about someone new, when you never gave closure to that someone old.

New Guy: Shop Vac = Sexy

2011-02-13T02:32:00.000-06:00

Ahhh, the day before Valentine's Day.

Valentine's Day... what a mess. Who let this become a legitimate holiday? Not me. I'm still voting against it if anyone ever asks me at the polls. Seriously, the pressure even on a third date is ridiculous. Do I think it should matter that the following day is a fake holiday? No. Does it? Kinda.

I spent a lovely day having brunch with the girls, seeing Cirque with Suzie and her family, and then rushed back across town to grab the credit card I left at uhaul after I dropped off the truck this morning so that I could get to my date with new guy in a timely fashion.

As I pulled into the driveway at the house, I wondered why there was a wet stripe down the edge of the driveway...

Then I wondered why there was water in the garage...

Then I opened the door into the house and stepped into standing water.

Great.

I called to let him know I would be a while.

How long? Not sure.

Why? Don't want to say.

Can he help? Yes, but no,but yes, but no, but...

I wanted him to come help, but we're not in that place where it's okay for him to come help. Is that dumb? Maybe.

I finally spill what the issue is. He is still down with helping, I still politely refuse. I headed to Home Depot to get something to suck up all the water, no dice. New guy has a shop vac. He offers to bring it over. I say I'll come get it.

On my way to his place, I realize #1 I'm going to see his place... #2 I'm wearing pants that are dirty and wet from the knees down... #3 I look a total mess.

Side note--> how come when you step in one inch of water, your pants are instantly wet about 8 inches up?

I'm not even sure I said hello when he opened the door. I had a pretty singular focus. His house is nice at first glace, but show me the shop vac.

Mmmm... shop vacs are sexy. And he has power tools in the garage... yum. He's being so sweet AND he is handy AND the bike by the door was hot.

I should have come here sooner. New guy gets more points than I can add up right now.

New Guy: The Tablecloth Smells Very Clean

2011-02-10T02:35:00.001-06:00

Tonight I met the new guy at a little family owned place in the mid cities. The menu was very vegetarian friendly, but I am always worried about eating things that can cause potentially horrible breath or leave a frightening display in your teeth.

So backtracking a bit... we decided to meet at the restaurant since it was close to his house. It really didn't make sense for him to pick me up. I arrived at the restaurant first and did what any girl in my shoes would have, I smelled the table cloth and texted my girls. Surprisingly clean. Not that you expect a restaurant to be dirty, but this was like straight from the wash clean... and still a little damp... and downy fresh. Happily, this gave me a reason to text.

New guy arrived (and I quit texting). He brought along a bottle of wine. It was really good for a self professed beer guy. Good choice, I awarded him some extra points for that. He suggested the vegetable plate. Good choice, more points. I really like talking to him, though I do feel the need to cover my mouth when I chew and giggle when I say things that don't sound as sophisticated out loud as they did in my head.

After dinner, standing in the parking lot, he kissed me.

Happy face!

I appreciate that he seems to know exactly how fast (or in this case slow) I want to move. Nice soft lips, no mouth assault. After the frequent issues with TRE, the lack of aggressive kissing is nice.

We talked more about bikes. He said I would have to check his bikes out sometime. I giggled again. Hehe.

That's all. But I do feel the need to mention again how nice the kiss was.

New Guy: Date 1, Flying Saucer

2011-02-08T02:37:00.000-06:00

March 22nd, 2009... A very old friend told me to stop focusing on dating and let someone sneak up on me...

I'm not sure if a guy coming out of the alley was what she had in mind, but heck, it works for me.

I was running late (thanks consulting project) and he was, of course, on time... and waiting in the alley...

Okay, I'm letting this slide. I am open minded and he seems cute enough.

Please let him be as fun in real life as he is in email.

-----As an aside, this is a common problem with internet dating. They are super funny in email and super lame in person. So, know that the little prayer I sent up to heaven was absolutely necessary.-----

Five hours later, I was headed to the car. He put his hand on my back. I like that. Some girls don't, I do. Hand on shoulder in steering fashion, that's another story.

We walked toward he parking garage... I'm having a little internal ohmygoodness moment. Is he going to shake my hand? Give me a high five? Chest bump? Just say "big gulps... alright... welp, see ya later"? Good gravy. I hate this part of the night. RomComs have ruined me on this.

But wait. A nice (polite) kiss and asking to see me again all before he takes his leave... alas... there is hope for me yet... and hope for New Guy.

New Guy... No Nickname... Yet

2011-02-06T02:39:00.001-06:00

If I call him New Guy, does that make New Guy his nickname? I hope not. I think it just shows that he might have some staying power. I say this because, well, "new guy" implies that I'll write about him more than once... or twice, since clearly, I'll write about him tomorrow... but you don't know that part yet...

(...as usual, I will write along the way, and publish when it I feel comfortable with the idea of someone... though not many people still poke around here... knowing my neurotic thoughts)

Ahh... so why is this neurotic?

Because I've only just spoken to him for the first time.

What!?!

I know, I know. But I've been... wait for it...

...wait for it...

...emailing him.

Okay, I think we could all scan the previous posts for the last time I said "I will NEVER get on an online dating site again." Well, whatever. I have no self control, and besides, this was fun. And I'm sure the last time had something to do with the short/weird/old guys from eHardlycanthinkofareasonwewerematchedinthefirstplace.

Why now?

Well, one friend had already met someone super fun and the other four of us decided we would sign up together... help each other manage the crazy, have conference calls while answering questions about ourselves (what are your political views, do you have pets, do you want kids, are you a freak... normal stuff like that), and have a good laugh every time one of us got a crazy... that as I mentioned, the others would help manage.

I wanted to bail after a day. Technically it was slightly less than a day. Only three of the five of us were on and I wasn't interested in the married guy who was no longer sleeping with his wife, but continued to stay with her while "spoiling" other women... gross.

The Cruise Director encouraged me to stay. Fine.

There was this guy... who seemed nice and cute and funny... so I ignored him. Why would he ever talk to me anyway?

Then he did.

*Sigh*

Funny email after funny email.

And tonight, just after the super bowl...

*ring* *ring*

I'm giddy, I tell you.

But wait!

He wants to meet up tomorrow!?!

24 hours is certainly not enough mental prep time for this. Or enough time to lose 30 pounds and get a breast enlargement and undergo microderm abrasion and have all my body hair permanently removed and flat iron my hair and learn how to put on eye makeup and develop the world's most amazing personality... wait, I already have that one.

Oh well, bite the bullet. See him tomorrow.

Flying Saucer. 7pm.

Deep breath.

Tunisian Sex Appeal and Wirgins

2011-01-06T03:17:00.000-06:00

Ahhh... birthday hangover... why must you rear your ugly head? Was it because I had too much fun and you need to balance out my little corner of the universe? Some day I will have my revenge on you... someday...

So any birthday night that starts with a blurry photo of a girl in a peacock skirt holding a bottle of liquor and a coke while riding an elevator in India must end well. Brace yourself.

We loaded up in death cabs and headed to the Blue Frog... Purple would have been better... Blue will do.

There was a fabulous little band with a Tunisian guy jammin' out and lookin' all sexy.

"Hey Tunisian guy, you are yummy, wanna hang out?" is what I was going to say if I could talk to him... at least that's what the booze was telling me to say...

Until Rob the Verb brought him up to me. Gasp! He is not nearly as yummy up close. And besides, I've moved on. Why hang out with Tunisian guy who doesn't speak a lick of English when I can hang out with my mess of wirgins!?!

wirgin (n): Indian virgin

There I was dancing in the midst of a bunch of med students on vacation in Mumbai. So they were... hmm... 10 years younger than me?

For the record, I did not assume they were wirgins. They told me. Awkward? Nope. Might have been had I been sober. Instead, I was in a suicide bomber heaven without having blown up myself or anyone else... just chillin' surrounded by wirgins. Check me out.

Classmates Become Family

2010-12-29T11:57:00.000-06:00

Namaste!

As I write this, I am sitting in a hotel room in New Delhi, India while one of my classmates sleeps soundly. It is 11:30pm and in the rooms on either side of me and down the hall are more classmates. Somewhere in Chile there is a group of TCU MBA students planning what they will do this evening or where they will have dinner. Another group of Neeley MBAs are likely just wrapping up lunch in the Dominican Republic. One of my classmates is on his honeymoon, another classmate is enjoying his first Christmas with a new baby, another is celebrating a recent engagement, and many are spending time with family they unintentionally neglected this semester. For three weeks we are spread out all over the world, but we remain close. We are already family.

In August, as I arrived for the first day of pre-semester workshops, I never expected the next five months to go as they did. I was swapping a job for class, but other than that, nothing would change. I lived in DFW already. I had friends here. My family isn't too far away- just a quick drive to Austin.

The day before START workshop, my mother called me from the hospital. She was ill, but thought it was nothing. A few weeks later and still in the hospital, there were no answers. I continued to attend classed and had my mother moved to a hospital in Dallas where I could travel daily to stay with her. And so it was for months. Class, drive, hospital, drive, class, drive, hospital, drive... I found time to shower between classes and my classmates helped me stay on top of homework and reading.

While my family was hurting and my friends were working, my Neeley MBA classmates and faculty supported me. One by one, I came to rely on them for help with the square root rule when I was zoned out during supply chain; for a recap of which fashion case study went with which class when I couldn't keep them straight; for someone to laugh with for a few minutes before I got in the car to drive back to Dallas.

I studied finance and signed off on blood cultures. I read cases while my mom was having brain surgery. I explained the 9x rule to the doctor who was telling me about the new MRI they were considering. I chatted with my mom about Taryn Swan while we watched Nickelodeon. I pored through statistical analysis on my mother's symptoms. While I was doing my best to devote more time than I had to school and my mother, my mom just kept fighting... and she just kept getting worse.

My mother passed away on October 28th. The Neeley family- people I had only known a short time- kept me looking forward. Peggy, the Director of Graduate Admissions for the Neeley School, rushed to meet me at the hospital. Classmates surrounded me with love at my house. I had become so close to these people in such a short time.

TCU's Neeley MBA marketing materials tell us, "It's more than business. It's personal." We've all heard it from schools and employers before. But, at TCU, they mean it. I could not have asked to be surrounded by better people. I could never say enough to thank them for loving me.

Now it is 11:57pm in New Delhi. Tomorrow morning at 6:15am we depart for the Taj Mahal, a monument built out of love and mourning. I think of my TCU family with love and I thank them for helping me mourn. Visiting the the Taj Mahal with just a few of my TCU family seems the perfect end to an imperfect year and a perfect tribute to a more than perfect mom.

"Should the guilty seek asylum here,
Like one pardoned, he becomes free from sin.
Should a sinner make his way to this mansion,
All his past sins are to be washed away.
The sight of this mansion creates sorrowing sighs;
And the sun and the moon shed tears from their eyes.
In this world this edifice has been made;
To display thereby the creator's glory."
-Emperor Shah Jahan

Death Cab

2010-12-27T16:23:00.000-06:00

It’s best to close your eyes if it’s your first time in a taxi… in India.

I arrived in Delhi around 11:45 this morning. Many flights today had been canceled due to poor weather conditions, but it is difficult to divert a flight from London that has already been in the air for 8 hours. As I made my way from the terminal to customs I began to wonder what India would actually be like beyond the confines of an international airport. India really starts to hit you the moment you walk through customs. Hundreds of families and friends are waiting on their loved ones. Wading through them to make my way to the prepaid taxis was intense for a girl used to the wide open expanses of Texas.

I paid 350 Rupees and hopped in a black taxi. It looked very similar to the one I took yesterday from Paddington Station to London Heathrow, so logically, it should be safe. No?

The lines intended to separate the road into four lanes heading toward Delhi city center were more of a suggestion. As taxis, motorbikes, bicycles, handcarts, horses, tuk-tuks, and people on foot created an ever-changing landscape of anywhere between five and seven lanes, I realized I was in for the ride of my life.

I didn’t want to miss any of the sites as we drove. The air smelled thick and the taxi seemed to be going in circles. Manu, the taxi driver, wanted me to feel at home, so the drive was accompanied by a soundtrack of the Vengaboys … strange.

The hotel was 8 miles from the airport. Two hours and a stop by a travel information shop, I finally arrived at the hotel. Did we nearly run over a cyclist? Yes.

Truthfully, keep your eyes open. I saw the President’s Estate, a military base, a variety of businesses, a few markets, some startling images, and a new kind of beauty.

More to come — happy holidays from India!

Flying with Meds

2010-12-26T21:35:00.000-06:00

Happy Christmas from London!

As I sit in the airport for the 3rd time this holiday season, preparing to board a plane from the UK to India, I feel pretty well averse in the ways of airport security. So a few minor tips to help you on your own journey.

1. Remember that epi-pens and inhalers rarely have a prescription sticker on the container. While inhalers don't pose a huge problem, your epi-pen might. Pharmacies in the US will reprint an extra label for your prescriptions that you can affix to the case. Check TSA regulations for the US and with your local airports. Some locations prefer that you declare the pen prior to going through security since there is a needle involved.

2. Bring an extra. Whatever it is that you need and whether you are traveling abroad or stateside, pack one inhaler in your carry on and an extra in your checked bag. Refills can be difficult when you aren't at home or aren't familiar with the area.

3. Pack all essentials in your carry on bag. Don't trust that your checked bag will arrive at the same time and place as you. If you need it, keep it with you.

4. When traveling internationally, get to the airport early on return flights. Don't take it personally, you will be in a foreign country and sometimes security can be a mess if you don't have a local address.

Happy travels and Merry Christmas!

Angel

2010-10-28T17:15:00.000-05:00

God welcomed Donna with open arms early this afternoon. She will be missed so much, but she will forever be with us.

Thank you so much for your many prayers.

Memorial information will follow.

Jellybeans

2010-10-26T23:14:00.000-05:00

For some reason, I have a song from what seems like another lifetime stuck in my head. So I sang to my mom and kissed her goodnight. She can't open her eyes without a lot of struggle. She can't speak without pain. But she still returns a kiss with the same love she has always given. Thank God for mom kisses.

I wish you a jellybean to chew upon,
I wish you a hatpin to keep your hat on,
I wish you love your whole life through,
God bless you, and keep you,
Just because you’re you.

I wish you grass to tickle your toes.
I wish you sunshine to freckle your nose.
I wish you love your whole life through,
God bless you, and keep you,
Just because you’re you.

I want to be there when God takes your hand
And leads you to the promised land.
I want to be there when He says to you,
“I’ll bless you and keep you, just because you’re you.”

Transfer of Care

2010-10-26T17:11:00.000-05:00

I've just finished the paperwork to bring on Community Hospice of Texas (CHOT) as the provider of inpatient hospice care for Donna. This was the best option as they will be providing care at St Paul where were already are. The same nurses, techs, and doctors will still be on board, but they will be supplemented with additional support from CHOT. Also, we will not need to transport Donna, which can be very uncomfortable.

Donna is still refusing to take oral medications or drink any water. We are looking at adding continuous flow pain medication to help regulate the peaks and valleys in pain management. Donna is not talking today, but still seems to be listening occasionally. I know she is still in there, she's just too tired to talk. She is resting well. There have been moments of anxiety on her face, but they quickly melt back into calmness.

This afternoon we read poetry and listened to baroque music. Rhea came to visit late afternoon and talk with Donna and I. We had a nice visit. Her presence has been an immense support.

Please keep Donna in your thoughts and help us surround her with love.

Strength

2010-10-25T17:07:00.000-05:00

"For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."
-2 Timothy 1:7

It is difficult not to be afraid.

I am a mess. I've never loved anyone more than I love my mom. I've never had a better friend or a stronger ally. I've never second guessed myself so much or played the what if game so intensely. I've never considered that she would not be here, which is my mistake.

Donna has had a lot of visitors over the past few days. It means a lot to me that so many people have been able to get here.

We are going to stop IV fluids today. We have stopped the antibiotics and the medications she was taking prior to all this. We are giving her pain medications and some steroids to prevent some of the swelling. We are evaluating where to go from here. Days, weeks... no one can really say what we have, but she is very sad today. My heart is breaking for her... and for my family... and for myself. I want so badly for her to feel calm and loved.

Keep her in your thoughts. I want only the best for her and every voice or prayer on her side must help in some way.

Saturday Has Been... Ugh

2010-10-23T17:05:00.000-05:00

But thankfully, there has been a lot of company to keep everyone's mind busy.

This morning, Donna was very drowsy and difficult to wake. They feared she had a stroke during the night. They took her down to CT, but there was no evidence of a stroke/bleed/etc. There are flares on the scan though that show a further progression of the lymphoma. She still has the infection that the doctors identified a few days ago as well.

The option to do CHOP chemotherapy has been taken off the table due to the change in her status. We are going to come together as a team on Monday and reevaluate the situation. Everything about this cancer is more aggressive than any of our doctors have ever seen. They all seem as surprised as us with the rate at which it has and is progressing.

We have such a great medical team in our corner. The internists, neurologists, hematology-oncologists, gastroenterologists, nurses, techs, etc have all been so great. Please add Donna's tech Tonja to your list of thanks yous when you pray. She treats Donna with such care and love. She tears up when she does things that are painful to Donna and spends time talking with her about school, families, work, and life in general. She is amazingly strong and compassionate.

We had another lovely visit today with Rhea and Robert. They brought Donna some more peanut brittle (and didn't skimp- they brought her some pecan brittle too). Donna's mom, brothers, and sisters are on their way here tonight and should be here soon.

I will do my best to keep everyone updated as much as possible.

CHOP Chemotherapy

2010-10-22T20:04:00.000-05:00

With the diagnosis of ALCL ALK-, we have decided on a course of action. ALCL ALK- is a very aggressive non-Hodgkin lymphoma. It has manifested in her abdomen, lungs, and brain which makes this a very difficult battle.

Donna is not strong enough right now to undergo the most aggressive treatment, but she is still ready to fight. We have decided to start CHOP Chemotherapy to begin fighting the lymphoma in her body while we work up her strength to battle the lymphoma in her brain. The less aggressive treatment that Donna can handle right now is not strong enough to cross the blood-brain barrier so we will continue to monitor changes in the brain and spinal fluid closely. I believe we will be starting CHOP as early as tomorrow since the sense of urgency is quite high.

Today, we have started another round of IV antibiotics. Donna has an infection from a combination of all the blood work, open wounds, compromised immune system, and time in the hospital. The physician's feel confident that the antibiotics should begin working late today.

Cy's visit yesterday evening really lifted Donna's spirits. Michel is here today to help me with decisions and a course of action. He arrived last night and it has been welcome support. Jerry will be here in a few hours as well.

We need to surround Donna with as much support as possible right now. Mentally, we need to keep her as strong and positive as possible for the battle ahead.

Anaplastic Large Cell Lymphoma

2010-10-22T17:02:00.000-05:00

There is finally a name to go with what Donna has been experiencing, ALK-negative anaplastic large cell lymphoma.

We met with the hematology-oncology team today and we have a lot to think about. We will sit down with them tomorrow and decide on a plan.

Michel (Donna's son) is on his way to Dallas now and Jerry (Donna's ex-husband) should be here tomorrow.

Day 67

2010-10-20T17:01:00.000-05:00

Hard to believe... it's been 67 days since Donna first went to the emergency room in Lampasas. It's been a long journey so far, but I have a renewed determination and I'm dragging Donna along whether she likes it or not. I got that trait from her anyway, so she should understand.

Donna is running a low grade fever and has been all day. Her blood pressure has dropped to levels we had no seen since just after the laparoscopic biopsies done by the urology team. They did an upper GI this morning to see if they could identify what was causing the pain in her stomach, but were not able to find anything. They did another MRI or her head as well. It is clear that she is in pain, but unclear as to how to remedy the situation.

This evening, we haven't been able to get ahead of the pain. She has a fresh bruise by her left ear and a swollen mass that has formed on the left side of her neck just below the ear. There is not any pain associated with the mass, but I pointed it out to the nurse just in case. The hospitalist came in within ten minutes and now we are waiting for the rad techs to take Donna down to have an emergency CT of the head and neck. They have given Donna some anti-nausea meds to help with the effects of the contrast for the CT scan.

It has been a long day. Thankfully with all the activity, Donna should sleep very well tonight.

I will let everyone know what we find out about the new mass as soon as we have word.

One last thing- say a little prayer of thanks for Marlon Cortez. He is Donna's nurse tonight (and last night). He really takes good care of her. He is kind and respectful- one of the best we've had throughout all of this.

Sorry for the Delay

2010-10-19T17:00:00.000-05:00

So much seems to have happened, but when I try to sum it all up with the one thing we are looking for, I can't.

Donna's friends Rhea and MJ stopped by to see her this weekend. It was a nice break and really lifted her spirits. So far as company is concerned, right now- the more the merrier. If that changes, I will let you know. Until then,please feel free to come by and say hello.

The incision the runs from ear to ear like a headband is healing nicely. If she let's me I'll post a picture (proof that she looks better than some of the updates let on). Occupational therapy and speech therapy are still working with Donna to get her up and running.

This weekend they did another round of CTs and plain film x-rays. They have identified something in her chest, but again, they do not know what they are looking at. The new internist/hospitalist thinks we may be looking at lymphoma. With the number of specialist who have ruled out cancer, I'm not sure how to take the latest news.

Since I have another midterm tomorrow and cannot miss class, I have requested a call from the doctor. The nurses let me know he would call tomorrow while he is making rounds. I have a number of questions for him. The biggest question, if he thinks it is lymphoma, what has he seen that no one else did. Next question, what are we going to do moving forward...

New Hospital

2010-10-14T22:50:00.000-05:00

I came to the hospital late tonight because I had a final for stats and meeting at school. When I called Judy to check in on her and mom, she let me know that they had moved to St. Paul's Hospital, just a block up the road from Zale-Lipshy. Donna is still in the UT Southwestern system, just in a different facility.

The team of specialists working with my mom did not feel the surgical oncology/urology consults that had been discussed with us yesterday by infectious disease were necessary. They took Donna for another ultrasound to look for any other blood clots.

After the ultrasound, there was not much word from the doctors... until the news that Donna was being transferred.

Donna arrived at St. Paul under a new admitting physician (a nephrologist) with a new primary on the case (a hospitalist). Donna did not have any of her pain meds and the hospitalist was no where to be found.

Sometime after 7pm, the admitting physician came in to go over some things with Donna. Same questions we've answered at every other hospital. The nephrologist said that he would be meeting with the doctors from Zale tomorrow to go over her case. Then he called her unique.

I'm over it. Please stop referring to her as "unique" and "an interesting case." She is my mom and my best friend, not an interesting case to get someone published in a medical journal.

Bumps in the Road

2010-10-14T16:46:00.000-05:00

During the CT scan yesterday, the doctors felt that Donna has some tissue deterioration. Upon closer look, they found a blood clot as well. This morning they corrected he PICC line (the old one had become blocked) and attempted to insert a filter endovascularly to block the clot from her lungs, heart, and brain. Due to the size of the mass in her abdomen, the filter would not open properly.

Donna is experiencing more intense pain in her abdomen. The intensifying pain is a definite concern for the family as well as the doctors.

Teams from infectious disease and neurosurgery have been by this evening to talk with us about how she is healing from the brain surgery, how the medications are working in regard to the mass(es), and what our next steps are.

Neurosurgery feels positive about the progress Donna is making. We are hopeful that she will continue to heal and regain her strength. She was very lucid today and able to move her left arm and leg with little effort. Please keep Drs. Mickey, Lee, Beshay, and Flores in your thoughts. They are an amazing team and we have become very fond of them. They not only have amazing skills as physicians, but they are amazing men with obvious concern for their patients (and the families).

Infectious disease has requested that radiology do a comparison study using the CT scan from yesterday and the CT scan from our original admission into Zale-Lipshy. There is some concern about the abdominal mass(es) and whether the medication we have been using is having a positive impact on the mass(es). The ID team will be consulting with urology and surgical oncology tomorrow after the results of the CT comparison are in hand. We hope to have some sort of plan tomorrow morning, but we are learning to be more patient as time goes by. Thankfully, we are very familiar with the urology team... and more importantly, they are very familiar with Donna.

MJ- Thank you for sending the letters from the students, mom really enjoyed the ones we read tonight.

Sara- Thank you for the lovely goodie basket. Mom has eaten some orange slices today and said they were the best tasting thing she has had in a while.

All- Thank you for your continued thoughts and prayers. Your support has helped us all stay strong.

Busy Day

2010-10-12T16:46:00.000-05:00

There has been a steady stream of people in the room today... a stream that started at 6am (thanks Dr. Flores). Neurosurgery, infectious disease, internal medicine, nutrition, physical therapy, speech therapy, radiology... even maintenance stopped by to make sure her lights, doors, and plumbing was all in order.

They were able to get Donna in the shower which was tiring, but helped relax her a bit and allowed her to get some sleep.

She does not have much of an appetite, but Judy and I are working with her to get some Ensure in her system.

It looks like we will be here for another week or so before we move onto a rehabilitation floor. Donna is learning to use her left arm and leg again, but is making great progress!

We will get there slowly but surely.

Patience

2010-10-11T22:47:00.000-05:00

"...strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience..."
-Colossians 1:11

Donna is having some frustration tonight. She is very tired from a long day of working on speech and physical therapy. She is making such amazing progress, but cannot see the forest for the trees right now. It is very overwhelming at times, but she keeps moving forward. I'm lucky she is such a strong woman.

We have moved rooms again, but are still on the same floor. They felt it would be better to have Donna by the nurses station so she could be more closely monitored this evening. I am staying the night with her tonight and Judy's husband has come to help her with the shoulder and give her a break from the hospital.

Please continue to send your thoughts and prayers our direction. The next few days will not be easy ones for Donna or the family, but thanks to the doctors, hopefully the hard part is over. We will find out more after the CT scan (which was moved to tomorrow morning).

Out of ICU!

2010-10-11T16:42:00.000-05:00

Donna moved out of ICU this afternoon. We are on the neurology floor at Zale-Lipshy now, so Donna is able to have visitors and flowers- she would love to see or here from you all!

Last night, Judy dislocated her shoulder and we got to see the inner workings of Parkland ER (so for those people keeping track, that's at least 7 hospitals for this bunch in the last 8 weeks!). She is doing well today- she is a total trooper!

Donna was able to eat a little for breakfast and lunch and is about to have another shake full of contrast for another CT scan. She has had speech therapy and physical therapy already today as well.

Things are still looking up and we just keep plugging along.

Keep Donna (and Judy) in your thoughts- they are tough ladies, but they can always use a little love.

Flying Solo

2010-06-17T16:30:00.000-05:00

Take of the training wheels kids, I’m finally on a solo dinner date with Gingerneer. I said I would be late, then I was early, then he was on time… mostly. He was actually 2 minutes late. I would never have noticed, but he pointed it out and apologized. Consistently courteous. Check!

We met at Taco Diner near our offices. It worked well since we live in different directions. The central location gives us more time to hang out and doesn’t give anyone home court advantage. Surprisingly, he had never been to Taco Diner (he grew up in DFW- so this is a strange realization)… but he won brownie points when I asked him where he usually ate Tex-Mex. Chuy’s. Ay dios mio! Yo amo Chuy’s! It’s my favorite too. I feel like the stars have aligned in this very moment.

We talked for hours about all sorts of things, but the most memorable part of the conversation caused a break in my plan. Yes, I had a plan. There was a kiss involved in my plan. But the best laid plans…

Earlier this week, I got a fortune cookie from the Thai place by the bike shop. Two of my favorite places side by side equal obvious cosmic balance. “An unexpected event will soon make your life more exciting.” I taped the fortune to my monitor at work and took a deep breath. I’m not big on surprises. If I’m going to kiss him, I’m going to be ready, and he’s going to think I’m amazing.

Back to the dinner conversation. We were discussing how interesting it is when people meet at the bar and sleep together a few hours later. Whatever floats your boat. But at 30, it seems a lot more inappropriate than it is in college. Again, I’m not saying it’s wrong and I’m not condoning it, it’s just what we happened to be talking about. So he says something to the effect of “first you have the one arm hug, then a full hug, then a kiss on the cheek, then a peck on the lips…” Then I quit listening.

One arm hug? We skipped that. Full on, though awkward hug was had in lieu of the one arm job.

Full hug? We’ve done that. More than once. I like his hugs but they make me think inappropriate things. REALLY inappropriate things.

Kiss on the cheek? Oh my. That hasn’t happened. Wrench in the plans. Danger! Danger!

This is the unexpected event. Exciting is not how I would describe this. This is a mess. Now I know there is no kiss in my future this evening. Sad face.

The evening goes on and he is so great that I forget about the kiss situation, resign myself to another full frontal hug.

Nearly three hours later, I decide it’s time to face the hug. Resign myself to the friend zone. Embrace my the lack of lip locking. Commit myself to a life of celibacy. No big deal. I’ll be a spinster. Sigh…

We walked toward our cars and the awkward dance began.

Do I hug him?

Will he hug me?

Will I still get butterflies if this hugging keeps occurring?

Will I have another inappropriate thought?

Oh just hug him Lacey.

Take your cheek kiss and be thankful he had dinner with you.

Accept it Hammons.

Then he kissed me. On the mouth. Ohmygodiwassonervousthatifunmbledmywaythroughitanddartedintomycarasfastaspossibletogetawayfromhimbeforeistartedcryingorturnedthecolorofaclownnosecrapcrapcrapcrapcrap.

I bolted. I am such a wuss.

Gingerneer = great kisser

Lacey = horrible, nervous kisser

Ack…

One-and-Two, Three-and-Four, Five-and-Six, Gin-Ger-Neer

2010-06-12T21:32:00.001-05:00

If the Gingerneer ever decides to quit his job, he could totally teach at a pre-school. He is SO patient and has amazing skills with repetitive counting. What preschoolers couldn't use that kind of a teacher. Although, then I would have to contend with single moms... and I'm not really down with that.

AggieTri, AT's BF, Gingerneer, Lunchtime Sex, a coworker of mine, my brother, and I went to a dance seminar/pot luck at Gilley's today. They offered progressive double two step, three step, waltz, cha cha, salsa, line dancing, etc. Since we all know how coordinated I am on land, there is no way this wasn't going to go well.

Despite my need to have someone gently kick my toes to remind me to move my feet... or count aloud as I move... or make up silly phrases to remind me what to do... I had so much fun!

Barn dance- greatness. Should I ever get married, we're doing it.

But, that is not the purpose of this post. The purpose is to say that my sweaty palms and butterfly insides might have hindered my dancing, but they did not stop the Gingerneer from being his usual charming self. And again, I'm all smiles.

Gingerneer had to leave early to head out to a bachelor party but offered the possibility of a drunk text later in the day. I would love one... always curious as to what people text when they've been drinking.

One the other hand, drunk texting spelled the absolute end for PtCtA...

Flashback to December 5, 2009, 12:40am:

“Hey what are you up to?”

“In bed”

“Aww I am just getting out of the bar. You sound like you could use some company hah”

“I have to be up at 4am”

“Even a better reason to pull the old school all niter. Sorry for the drunken text then”

I really do not enjoy receiving drunk texts after midnight from people I barely know. I really do not enjoy the implication that I would be someone who would want to be texted for a late night romp by someone who I have yet to hug with both arms who (in case anyone forgot) wrecked my bike last time I saw him. I think I am pretty straight forward. If I want to see you in little to no clothing, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, after these sorts of texts, I’ll just categorize you in the creeper file and cross you off the list of people I take phone calls from.

Yep... there it is. The last post I made about texting and a guy.

Dear Santa, I know it's June, but please help Gingerneer send the right text.

*Sigh*

He thinks my hair looked pretty today.

He had fun dancing with me today.

He wants to see me again before he heads out of town next weekend.

He wished me luck on the half marathon tomorrow morning.

He did it all at a respectable hour.

Thanks, Santa. I've got it from here. I'm going to keep enjoying the patient man (who I will learn to dance with eventually) who sends nice texts even from bachelor parties.

Gingerneer- Lesbian Band and Close Face

2010-06-09T17:37:00.000-05:00

Last night, we met up at Jack’s Backyard for a benefit concert (small outdoor patio bar with a lesbian rock group raising money to benefit Wounded Warrior Project). There were other people there that we knew, but we sat at a table alone, listened to the band, and talked for a few hours... Crazy. He’s so cute.

And so nice.

And so funny.

And so smart.

And so considerate.

I’m not used to being around guys that are this nice to me... consistently.

It’s all so new and I’m all jittery nervous still… I feel like I’m in high school.

So around 11 something (way past my bedtime), we all head out to our cars. Unfortunately, we immediately have company from our friends who were in the bar. This thwarts any physical... physicalness... physicality... physica- So we awkwardly hug and have a moment of close face before we both retreat. Horrible.

Why so horrible, you ask? Well, after the doubts about him were put in my head on Saturday, I had a moment of what-if-I-don’t-really-even-like-him? Then, later that night, my brain, in a subconscious reconciliation of feelings, produced a very inappropriate dream about him. I’m embarrassed as I type this.

Shame.

Shame.

Shame.

When he hugged me, it was firm.

And intense.

More so than he intended I think.

And I turned super red.

Because I was totally thinking about the dream.

I’m going to hell (one of the lesser circles, but still, I’m mortified at my own behavior and thought process).

So, then I’m on my way home and I’m talking to the Cruise Dirctor with my crazy Lacey faces and wild hand gestures only to realize he is totally next to me in his car. I was MORTIFIED! Ugh! Embarassing because I was telling the Cruise Director about the dream and the hug situation. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I know he couldn’t hear me, but at that moment, I became convinced on some level that he knew exactly what I was thinking. Like some crazy Jedi mind trick he heard me tell her through the noise of downtown Dallas and two car windows.

To recap: went out, had fun, laughed a lot, hugged awkwardly, had an inapporpriate thought- again, was seen sharing said thought with friend.

We’re going out again this weekend. And if you haven’t gathered yet, I really like him.

Gingerneer: Concert in the Garden

2010-06-06T16:46:00.000-05:00

Well… This last night went well until we left. Cosmic Brownie (the Cruise Director’s friend) said Gingerneer was a douche* (which he certainly isn’t)... then the Cruise Director said she wasn't sure she liked him either (which she has asked me to forget she ever said, so I've already let it go, but it's very important to understand everything that has transpired). Since they barely spoke to him, what made them think that? And am I just so ready to be in a relationship that I am overlooking something that everyone else sees?

The statement that clears both of these things up is that, either way, I don’t care. I think he’s very nice. He’s considerate, smart, and funny. He didn’t brush me off for days, but checked in today to see how my nana was doing and to say he enjoyed my cheesecake and the company. Sigh...

We comfortably talked about family, school, religion, work, hobbies, etc. There weren’t awkward pauses or uncomfortable moments. When we discovered we worked so close to each other, he immediately suggested lunch sometime... not in that forced way that men sometimes suggest something. In a comfortable, just a thought kind of way.

With group outings though, how will I ever know if he like-likes me or just likes me. It’s going at a nice slow pace, but I don’t want it to go so slow that nothing ever happens... or so slow that I get stuck in the... dare I say it... friend zone.

So to sum up what we know so far…

• Ginger – woohoo!

• Paler than me- I look so tan!

• Likes to run- maybe that will encourage me to get better!

• Likes to cycle- woohoo!

• Engineer- Love nerdy boys!

• Snarky sense of humor- fabulous!

• Impeccable teeth- we all know I’ve always had a thing for nice teeth!

• Oldest of three- not a crazy only child and will understand my sibling angst

• In my age bracket- so very grown up of me

• Gainfully employed- woohoo!

• Likes camping (without electricity)- I’ll bring enough sparks for both of us... hehe.. kidding... or not... if he's into it ;)

• Was in band- One step down in the social hierarchy from orchestra, but I’m not a snob...

• Went to A&M- Athena (in a good way) will like him ;)

• Listens when I talk- yes, I know, I talk a lot so this is a HUGE plus… speaking of huge…

• His hands are massive- You know what they say about big hands… Kidding- Usually I feel like a tranny when I hold hands with someone because my finger are crazy long… this will not be a problem with him

• He likes 80s music- How can you go wrong there?

• He eats fresh fruit and veggies without complaining- woohoo! Our dietary habits shouldn't be too big of a conflicting mess

I think that’s it for now. Feel free to weigh in on the Gingerneer saga at your leisure.

*On a side note, Lunchtime Sex totally had my back on this. Woot.

Gingerneer- The Update

2010-06-03T11:24:00.000-05:00

Okay... here we go... the update...

So we’ve been emailing back and forth. Nothing too exciting. He wants to go cycling and dancing sometime. I finally got up the nerve to ask him if he wanted to go with a small group of us to one of the Fort Worth Symphony Concerts in the Garden this weekend. There is some 80s tribute band playing on Saturday. It’s a wine/cheese/picnic/fireworks type event with families, couples, singles, pretty much an even sampling up the middle class and up in Fort Worth.

So... he totally said yes. Like, oh my God. I’m seriously excited. This is going to be awesome to the max.

Well, not really.

So his response is super funny and he seems excited and willing to drive from Dallas to Fort Worth to see me. That has to be good. He even says he might wear jams and Nike basketball shoes to bring the 80s back full force (though I’m certain he’s kidding). But... there is the issue of the single ladies who were a problem last time... dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnnn.

This weekend at CapTex (which was mismarked, so I swam an extra 300m and limped an extra .4mi), I finally get up the nerve to say something to the Dutchess of Velo about what happened at the bar. But as usual- I am Polly Passive.

“So, remember that guy from the Red River?”

“Yep. Steve.”

“No. Gingerneer.”

“No, his name was Steve.”

“Well, his email says Gingerneer. I’ve been talking to him.”

“REALLY!?! He is SOOO not your type.”

“Well, I’m just getting to know him. It’s no big deal.”

“I talked to him a lot and he is really passive and boring. He doesn’t even have any hobbies outside of work, which I still don’t even know what he does.”

“He’s a computer engineer.”

“Well, he’s still boring.”

“Oh... well, he likes running, camping, cycling, reading, country dancing, a lot of different kinds of music...”

So, I feel like I’m defending him. This exchange goes on for a few minutes. Then she says that her and her friend were being really aggressive with him to see what he would do. She said they like to do that to quiet guys when they are together. She thinks he’s weak because he didn’t stand up to them. I said he was being polite. Either way, it turns out they were intentionally trying to get all over him and then intentionally trying to make him react. Blah.

So... Velo and her friend are coming on Saturday too. That’s the bad news.

The good news is that AggieTri, her boyfriend, the Cruise Director, Lunchtime Sex, and the Swimmer have vowed to fend them off. And Velo knows that I'm actually interested in him and she's a good friend. I'm sure she'll pass along the "be nice" instructions to her partner in crime.

We’ll see.

Le coup de maitre: I am in charge of bringing desserts for the group since I’m off the alcohol completely. What guy could resist that when coupled with my obvious charm? ;)

Okay, Time for Girl Talk

2010-05-24T15:58:00.002-05:00

Brace yourself it’s a long one…

So here is the gist of this past Friday’s events, the few hitches leading up to it, and the subsequent emails.

As I mentioned a few weeks back, AggieTri wanted to set me up with her nerdy, pale, ginger, computer engineer friend- so with all that said- yum! Gingerneer... Just my type.

The plan was to go dancing or to dinner, just a few people, so we could meet in a non threatening setting… then it turned into a larger group going dancing… then it turned into a larger group with a lot of solo ladies. Drat. We all know I don't like competing for a man that I don't even know. (Haha... I said "man")

So, I get to Cowboys Red River (yes, ladies, I met him at a country dance hall) and The Duchess of Velo is dancing with her friend (who doesn't deserve a name at this point...), AggieTri is with her boyfriend, AggieTri’s coworker is with her boyfriend, Another single woman- who happens to be from OKC and knows a lot of the swimmers that I know, even though she’s 40 is hanging solo, and Gingerneer isn’t there yet. A few more couples joined the group and brought along a seriously creepy single guy.

So when Gingerneer shows up, Velo's friend is immediately all over him. It’s like watching a giraffe on ice skates. Awkward. On top of that the pungent odor of desperate single females starts to rise off the single ladies' man hungry bodies.

Ugh.

I don’t have the energy or the desire to duke it out for a guy I’ve not even met, so I just go about my evening.

A few times, I considered talking to him, but other single ladies were glued to him. I was starting to wonder if he was the last single, gainfully employed man in the metro and I had somehow missed the memo. I shook off the feeling of frustration and reminded myself that I looked too cute to be bummed (red button up, white skirt, boots- quite the visual). I danced with a few random men and a few times with AggieTri’s boyfriend. I considered riding the mechanical bull, but the skirt and my better judgment kicked in. I drank my water and did the Cupid Shuffle. Very busy evening.

After the other ladies had fully monopolized Gingerneer and rubbed their scent all over him with constant excuses to touch him (the chest touch when they laughed, the arm touch during conversation, the arm around his waist for no freaking reason at all, the getting him to dance with them), Velo and her friend bailed around 10:45pm.

2 single ladies down, 1 to go.

AggieTri and her boyfriend stayed for a bit chatting with us, one of the other couples was still around for a while until the girl looked like she might puke. Then everyone left except me, OKC40, and Gingerneer.

Since there were three of us left at the end, no one really danced (horrible to leave one person alone, and it's not like I'm a stellar dancer... in fact it's just plain awful). We just chatted and what not for a while. Around 1, I said I need to go and the consensus was that everyone was leaving (not just us- the place was dead quiet by then… maybe 4 couples dancing and a handful standing around). We went outside and I paused to talk to Gingerneer. I thought for half a second he might walk me to my car, but then OKC40 said, “I thought you were parked by me.”

Instantly, we were a threesome again. I felt like I was competing with EVERYONE for 5 minutes to actually talk to him. So… we stood outside and talked for ages until finally OKC40 looked like she was going to fall asleep/pass out and she headed for her car. Finally… mission accomplished. Alone.

Now it gets… interesting?

So Gingerneer is telling me that he was supposed to be meeting one of AggieTri's friends… Velo… but he felt cornered by her and her friend… then they were having awkward conversation and they were making him guess what Velo did for a living, but he already knew so he had to play along. He said he’s not used to getting some much attention from women, so he went with it, but he wished they hadn’t monopolized so much of his time. I was a trooper and avoided the urge to ask him what he thought of her or to say, “oh, I thought you were here to meet me…”

So… moving forward… we discussed facebook stalking each other and that we should both work on our dance skills, but that we had fun talking. We hugged (awkwardly as two nerdy people would, though I’m certain the stars aligned as our pasty skin met) and headed our separate ways. I was kicking myself a bit for not embracing my 19 year old self and just kissing him and seeing what happened, but I’m just not that person anymore… or that perpetually drunk.

So I call the Cruise Director and wake her up for a pep talk. This gives me the nerve to message him and the strength to wait until Saturday. I said that I had fun and would like to hang out with him sometime, perhaps go dancing (I promised to practice), and get to know each other. Completely non committal in regard to what capacity I meant friends/dating/hit it and quit it/none of the above/all of the above… Which I will deduct a point from my awesomeness because of… but not entirely, because next time I see him will be after CapTex and perhaps I’ll have half a glass of wine and go CRAZY- clearly I’m a total light weight. Either way, he wrote me back (huge sigh of relief as that is the first step to overcoming the uncomfortable feeling that he will never speak to me again). He said he enjoyed chatting, will work on his single-chicks-other-than-Lacey evading skills, was sorry we only danced together once, and wants to dance with me again.

And thus… I have a very mini crush. The kind you get after meeting someone once… kinda wishing you had the nerve to kiss them just to see what it’s like, probably okay if you never saw them again since you barely know them, but amused with their smart sense of humor, digging their pale skin and impeccable teeth, and completely turned on by the computer engineering/processor speak… if he starts into calc/diffy-q/physics speak, I would certainly be the easiest lay… ever.

Feedback from AggieTri- This is like being on that VH1 show, Tough Love, where they review the tape of your dates and critique them and give you feedback. So, my social anxiety came in handy. Because I didn’t try to make my presence known in an aggressive way like some others, it worked in my favor... if only he could read this bit of neurotic writing... quickest way to scare any man off? Give him my blog address.

We are getting together for another group function after this weekend. Perhaps after that I will have the nerve to go solo dating. We’ll see.

Coming Out of Hibernation

2010-05-09T11:57:00.000-05:00

Where has the time gone!?!

After so many horrible (and ill conceived) dates last year, I guess I just needed a break. A looooooooooooooooooong break.

Now I'm back. But taking a very different approach to dating than the whirlwind of 2009. Let's be honest, something about going on multiple dates with multiple people each week leaves you wanting more. And it's acceptable for a drunk girl in her 20s. Now that I'm a sober thirty, it seems a little trashier. Yes, you're right. It was trashy last year too. But the kind of girl who throws up at a professional sporting event, doesn't concern herself with these sorts of things.

A few weeks back, AggieTri mentioned that she had a friend she wanted me to meet. This came up in the midst of discussing last year's dating shenanigans, so I honestly didn't take it too seriously. Whatever. I'll meet the Gingerneer.

Go ahead set it up. After PtCtA wrecking my cruiser, how bad could it be?

y i h8 txtng (the official end of PtCtA)

2009-12-05T11:25:00.001-06:00

12/5, 12:40am:

“Hey what are you up to?”
“In bed”
“Aww I am just getting out of the bar. You sound like you could use some company hah”
“I have to be up at 4am”
“Even a better reason to pull the old school all niter. Sorry for the drunken text then”

I really do not enjoy receiving drunk texts after midnight from people I barely know. I really do not enjoy the implication that I would be someone who would want to be texted for a late night romp by someone who I have yet to hug with both arms who (in case anyone forgot) wrecked my bike last time I saw him. I think I am pretty straight forward. If I want to see you in little to no clothing, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, after these sorts of texts, I’ll just categorize you in the creeper file and cross you off the list of people I take phone calls from.

Date 34.2: Tweed Crash

2009-11-22T21:23:00.001-06:00

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.

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

2009-11-19T01:40:00.001-06:00

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.

Art. Art? And Dallas Society

2009-11-05T23:54:00.000-06:00

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).

Date 27.2: Wedding Date

2009-11-01T01:58:00.000-05:00

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.

Brain Sex

2009-10-24T15:42:00.000-05:00

First a brief explanation of the concept and then why it would have worked for the Greek Goddess.

When I first saw the Astrophysicist I was thrilled by his foreign shoes (which if you’ve missed, I can identify foreign men on site based on their footwear), his lanky build, his dark hair, and his pale skin. I told him without hesitation that we would not be getting to know each other better physically since he was merely a temporary interloper on American soil. Then he started talking math. Big numbers. Physics. Velocity. Force. Einstein. Space. Luminosity. Celestial bodies. Theoretical astrophysics beyond simple gravitationally-bound objects in the universe.

Sexy.

Brain sex.

Then my pants fell off because I am gravitationally-bound.

The same thing happens when people discuss music theory, philosophy, business strategy, market trends, chemistry, differential equations, culinary arts, thermodyn… well you get the point.

So the Cruise Director had a fabulous ginger bearded friend from Ohio with her for the weekend. Granted he was not as vertically blessed as the Greek Goddess, but still… YUM. He was earthy and artsy and educated… and as aforementioned, ginger bearded.

While we sat at the bar in Lakewood, the Greek Goddess and Ginger Beard started having a conversation that spun wildly from authors to philosophy to science to theories to I zoned out because all could think about was that the two of them should have brain sex.

They clearly connected mentally. Allow gravity to take hold of your pants next time, Greek Goddess.

Date 33: Preacher and the Peacock

2009-10-23T01:17:00.000-05:00

The preacher has mentioned going out on more than one occasion. Always in instant messages though. The lack of personal touch in instant messaging makes me question the seriousness of the requests, but I tucked them away for use on a rainy day.

The day turned out to not be so rainy and the extending of an actual invite came from me… not in the form of an instant message, but one click more personal in the whole the scheme of technology driven quasi dating circa 2009.

The Dallas Museum of Art has fabulous jazz in the atrium on Thursdays and I thought, what better way to stoke the romantic fires than with art and jazz?

So I put on my peacock dress, watch an amazing art film that makes me cry a bit, discover that my favorite exhibit has been replaced with what is a pathetic excuse for art that I can only describe as disappointing at best (or a good excuse to blind myself to be more to the point), and then settle at a table in the atrium with a glass of wine to wait for the preacher.

He arrives. There is no fire to stoke. Jazz and art are unnecessary kindling for an empty fire pit… or perhaps a pot belly stove… I like those. Clearly he was just as disinterested as instant messaging might imply. No big deal. He brings up the ex. I reciprocate by bringing up his ex. He mentions that I’m still single. I return the favor. He politely says we should hang out more often. I agree. Then we part ways.

Gifted

2009-08-25T01:36:00.000-05:00

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.

"What...?"

"You know, X-Men."

"Oh..."

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

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

"Who?"

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

"Cyclops?"

"Sure."

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."

"Oh."

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."

"Right..."

"It's close to bacon."

"Right..."

"You like bacon."

"I like the smell of bacon."

"So you like bacon. You like pork."

"No, I'm a pescatarian."

"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 conformation 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."

31.Postlude: The Call

2009-08-21T07:13:00.001-05:00

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.

31.The Conclusion

2009-08-16T23:12:00.001-05:00

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

2009-08-16T21:36:00.001-05:00

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.

31.9: Eff the Beaver and Other Miscommunications

2009-08-16T11:23:00.000-05:00

31.8: Rolling Down a Hill

2009-08-15T11:08:00.001-05:00

... and stumbling into the bedroom drunk does not a date make.

31.7: When You Wish Upon a Star

2009-08-14T01:37:00.000-05:00

Lake, meteor shower

31.6: Art and the UK Pub Crawl

2009-08-13T04:06:00.000-05:00

DMA, Idle Rich, Trinity Hall, Lochrann’s

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

2009-08-12T13:04:00.001-05:00

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. :)

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

2009-08-11T01:03:00.001-05:00

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.

31.3: London does Fort Worth

2009-08-10T01:52:00.001-05:00

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.

Ahhh…

31.1:British Invasion- 0 to 60

2009-08-08T10:17:00.001-05:00

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.

Date 31.i: Prelude to the British Invasion

2009-08-07T01:49:00.001-05:00

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.

Date 30.2: This Couldn't be Saved with Second Hand Smoke

2009-05-10T05:12:00.001-05:00

As I left my house on a slightly rainy evening to pick up Montana and my purported Scottish-Canadian turned American BFF so we could head to Addison home of the Two Ts for a fantastic evening of Foreigner, my text messages notification beeped.

“Hand Me Downs* said you two were going to Taste of Addison. That should be fun!”

Strange. Pretty sure I was going with Montana and my purported Scottish-Canadian turned American BFF to meet the Two Ts and some other randoms. My confusion was interrupted by my text message notification once again.

“Let’s meet up for Taste of Addison.”

Who am I to stop Hand Me Downs from joining us for taste of Addison? The more the merrier, right? I let him know what time and where we are meeting and continue on my way to meet up with everyone after a quick stop at IKEA for a kitchen in a box. We get to the Two Ts place about the time that everyone is heading out for Bowling for Soup. Hand Me Downs is lost… and late. We wait patiently, or as patiently as one can be when someone had more than ample time to get where they are going and lives 10 miles closer than I do and there was perfectly good beer being consumed by someone other than me.

Hand Me Downs arrives in style with no hat (wow… didn’t remember him being that bald), a raincoat (true it was sprinkling but seriously who wears a raincoat to an outdoor concert in Addison?), and an umbrella that he was using kinda like a cane (only he wasn’t wearing black clothes and a sweet bowler hat/billycock and strolling in the park whistling to himself… that would have made the umbrella thing okay). Goodness, he has aged since I last saw him mere days ago.

Perhaps Foreigner will have the same cloud of positive energy that Dave Matthews had. Then things will smooth out and I will know that we were meant to continue dating in a haze of positive energy.

No such luck. This couldn't be saved with second hand smoke anyway.

Hand Me Downs had his sister meet him out there. He decided he didn’t like where we were standing and moved back a bit. We stood in silence only occasionally speaking. Montana was uncomfortable. My purported Scottish-Canadian turned American BFF was uncomfortable and decided to go in search of lingerie and jewelry or some such absurdities. The Two Ts weren’t uncomfortable, but it was clear they thought I was.

Thankfully Hand Me Downs is elderly and was too tired to stay out late will all us crazy kids and our rock and roll music. The night wasn’t a complete bust due to other company and a rousing rendition of Hot Blooded followed by an evening of F the Dealer back at the Two Ts.

Good Thing I Inhaled

2009-05-04T01:34:00.000-05:00

I love Dave Matthews.

Admittedly, I did not love Dave Matthews until 1996 when I decided that I would let him crash into me any time.

In 1998 on a trip across the border I took Dave's advice and didn't drink the water.

In 2002 as I packed my things to move yet again, I told Dave, "stop asking... I don't know where I'm going."

I even loved DMB in August 2004 when at least 120 Chicago tourists hated Dave.

I loved Dave through low times... and high times... and really high times.

Today, in the pouring rain and ridiculous storms, I stood (slightly damp) loving Dave. I was with the Triathlete's Hand Me Downs. A guy that wanted her and made that plain to me (he was late to meet me because he really needed to stop and buy Cliff bars for her even though she was out of town... no really, I don't mind when someone is late when they have such a good reason). But alas, there was hope... not only was the music amazing, again, I love Dave... but there was this cloud of positive energy. The energy was so thick I think I could actually see it rising from the crowd in a haze. Positive energy smells familiarly sweet.

What little I know about metaphysics leads me to believe I have a gift! Certainly not everyone has the gift to see positive energy.

So I took a page from Lyndon B Johnson who once said, “The American people have a right to air that they and their children can breathe without fear.” So I took a breath and suddenly there was hope for the date. I saw Hand Me Downs in a new light. He seemed sweet. Conversation seemed to be going well. I didn't really mind the rain. He was looking less bald... and less old. His banter about the Triathlete seemed almost endearing. The image I had in my mind of him in a wetsuit flailing about in the lake has nearly dissipated. And the intense guitar vs saxophone action that was occurring on stage... priceless.

Back in his SUV (cause what single 40 something year old man doesn't drive an SUV) we chatted on the way to my car. Then it was over as quickly as it had began. I was still enjoying my elevated mood so I decided to treat myself on the way to some Whataburger... hooray for Taquitos. This day keeps getting better.

I had such a great night, but in retrospect, there was nothing that made this match feasible. But for a fleeting moment, Dave made anything seem possible.

Chronic Dating

2009-05-03T22:24:00.001-05:00

One of my friends mentioned over Sunday brunch that I was a chronic dater.

An afternoon of shopping, a wine tasting, and quick workout later, I found myself pondering the statement, or more specifically, the term chronic dater. A quick trip to the thesaurus in search of a better term to replace chronic left me disappointed, but after a quick trip to the dictionary and a little online etymology search I was left with a new perspective...

Chronic: being long-lasting and recurrent or characterized by long suffering
Long suffering.

Well isn’t that apropos. Apparently in the beginning, khronos (which is Greek for “time”) became khronikos (Greek for “of time”) which became chronicus (Latin) then chronique (French) and finally chronical… Then in 1601 someone gave it a vague disapproving sense by associating it with disease. Did that man sitting in his broad lace collar with his full, slashed sleeves, tall broad hat and breeches have me in mind when he made that fateful association that turned chronic from time to long suffering?

Perhaps, but doesn't that make it that much better when my days of chronic dating are over? I like to think so.

Date 29: Simply Fon-don't

2009-04-26T11:12:00.001-05:00

All I can say is wow... with the exception of the few things I have planned in the next couple weeks, after this one, I need a break.

Simply Fon-Don't was perfect on the phone. His emails were witty. He was my type.

Nerdy. Smart. Dark hair. Pale skin. Tall. Did I mention nerdy?

We met at Simply Fondue in Sundance Square. When he came down the stairs my heart skipped a beat. I was smitten. The wait was just a few minutes and we were whisked off to the table.

The menu was overwhelming and I could feel my food issues boiling to the surface. I shook it off though, because this guy was dating gold.

Conversation was comfortable. The restaurant was lovely. My phone was vibrating. *Ignore*

The obligatory, what does he look like/are you okay/should I call the cops texts were streaming in. No big deal. He looked like someone I could totally get horizontal with which made me more than okay and there is no reason to call the cops... the fire department? Perhaps. This date could get hot.

He tells me he works in a secluded basement type room with no windows, no cell phone service, no outsiders. No big deal.

He tells me he doesn't really like working with other people. Okay, he enjoys going solo sometimes. Fine.

He tells me he doesn't actually enjoy working out. He just does it so he doesn't gain as much weight. Well...

He tells me he doesn't get to work at any particular time because he likes to sleep in and sometimes he gets up midweek after 10am. Free spirit. Loves the night life. Ummm...

He eats his food. And then mine. And then asks the waitress for more of some things. And suddenly I feel like he is eating my soul one fried piece at a time. I get tunnel vision and all I see is chewing. Dipping. Sizzling fried pieces of meat. Stabbing another morsel of uncooked food. Dipping. Sizzling. Chewing.

I actually feel like I might pass out. It's hard to explain. Here was this smart, witty, attractive man and I wanted to melt into the floor and disappear forever. I could have worked with the anti social man lacking in a schedule, but the eating, that I just couldn't do.

The problem with this date was definitely me. Thus the break. I need it. I've done well maintaining emotional distance from this whole mess until now. This evening, however, has resulted in tears.

Date 28: 22, Lives at Home

2009-04-11T00:29:00.001-05:00

In an effort to expand the demographics represented here, I went out with a 22 year old golf cart salesman who lives at home in a converted garage apartment. While I was overwhelmingly flattered with his "I love older women"-"amazing body"-"know what you're doing"-"eat fresh fruit and cream in bed"-"go out of my way to make satisfy you" brand of conversation and impressed by his young 6'4" frame, he lives at home... and he's 22.

Date 27: I Already Knew Him But Needed eHarmony to Tell Me We Should Go Out

2009-04-04T18:45:00.001-05:00

Brunch in Uptown with the Greek Goddess, the Cruise Director, Montana, the Triathlete, and Lunchtime Sex needed some spicing up. But still... what was I thinking. Infectious Disease had asked if he could join us to meet some new people. I didn't want him to be the only guy (or the only guy I had awkward history with) so I invited Bus Trip.

On the drive to Uptown my phone started ringing. One at a time all the ladies bailed.

Dear Jesus, please don't leave me at brunch in Uptown with two men that I have had uncomfortable moments with. Really, Lord. Do I deserve this for brunch? Me, me, me, me, me. Oh- and keep my friends (the ones that ditched me and left me in this predictament) safe. Amen.

Another text. Infectious disease was out as well. Apparently I "got him sick." Whatever.

So Bus Trip and I have brunch. Just the two of us. He asks if I did this on purpose. No, it was all Jesus.

So the eharmony thing... There is no shame in eharmony. The commercial tells me that this could be an everlasting love. The problem with being on eharmony and being part of some major social networking groups though... bumping into people online that you know in real life (not just Bus Trip, but the guy that was student council president my freshman year of high school, 3 people from the junior chamber of commerce, 4 of my former hockey customers, 1 coworker at my new job, and 2 people that have pictures with their best friends on their profiles letting me know that I was matched with best friends).

Then he mentions that this could be an eharmony date. He knows about the blog. No big deal. He gets high scores. After brunch he took me on a ride on the trolly.

Shame on you! It was an actual trolly. We chatted with other people on the trolly. We sat closer than necessary to each other. We made plans to hang out more often.

Is it likely that anything will come of this? No, I'm pretty sure Bus Trip has been over me since... well... the Bus Trip. And that was in the Spring of 2008. Practically a lifetime ago.

Date 1.Shoot Me in the Face: No Really, Somebody Shoot Me in the Face

2009-04-03T01:55:00.001-05:00

Today's plan:
1. Workout
2. Work
3. Watch hockey
4. Possibly play tonsil hockey

But you know what they say... the best laid plans...

So I wake up late. Not so late that I feel like a disgusting sloth, just late enough to miss my workout. No big deal.

I go to work, get a lot done, like abruptly remapping my career path in a thought-I-was-going-to-Portland-Oregon-drive-for-26-hours-oops-I-was-supposed-to-go-to-Portland-Maine sort of way. Again. No big deal. Just a few tears. Every second. As I drive to pick up Link. Looking all blotchy. And running late. Again. Whatever.

Link and I meet Montana and McDeidle at the arena a little late. Things are okay now. Going to go ahead and scratch number 4 off the list. No point in messing up my streak of not quite getting things right today.

Fast forward to the part you actually care about... the shoot me in the face part. I get hammered. Absolutely, embarrassingly, everybody looks good, eyes only half open hammered.

Back at Link's place I consider napping on the couch. We start to talk. I have no filter. Clearly he is not too bothered by this since he doesn't stop me. I mention that I should go. He says I should stay there, clearly I ought not drive. I say i don't want to sleep on the couch. He offers his bed, with him in it. I say he's all talk. He agrees. I ask him why. He says he only hooks up with girls he doesn't really like. I get confused and scan the room for a calendar from 1998 and college tshirt. He explains further that he hooks up with girls and then casts them aside. I give him stink eye and much more sober than I had felt mere moments before ask what that's about. He tells me of his plan for the future and how certain things are guarded. Apparently not everything. No, but he doesn't say, "I love you." Right on, me neither, I think it's oogy and sure fire way to cause a relationship meltdown...

The year was 1997. There was a man sitting on my bed in my very girly room in the dark... crying. I tried to say the right thing. Not my strong suit. He was still crying. Have you ever seen a man cry? Talk about uncomfortable. Try again. Nope, no dice. "I love you... ?" the crying stopped. My motivation was completely misplaced. And thus was born my aversion to the term.

But Link... oh no. His problems are bigger than the crying man. the conversation is a fuzzy mess after that. Perhaps Montana will chip in and remind me how it ended since I called her on my drive home. Regardless, wow. I brought this on myself 100%. Why didn't someone stop me weeks ago. Feel free to tell me next time you see crazy coming my way. If you warn me and I don't react, make like it's a bus and someone please push me out of the way.

Son of a Pastor Man... Groundhog Day

2009-03-28T23:32:00.000-05:00

January 26th, 2009:
"I went out with the son of a pastor man (again... I know... I'm like a kicked puppy... I keep coming back even though I know it's gonna suck) on Monday."

March 28th, 2009:
I went out with the son of a pastor man (again... I know... I'm like a kicked puppy... I keep coming back even though I know it's gonna suck).

I feel like such a let down. I'm pretty sure I clearly stated back in January that I was done. But there I stood at my kitchen counter last weekend accepting an invitation to go to an intimate concert with Link. David Wilcox... never heard of him. I do love music though. And he seems like he might have a James Taylor vibe going on. Who doesn't love James Taylor? Besides, it's not like I have an expectations anymore. And again, I do love music. And he's driving, easy enough. BYOB at a yoga studio promises to be comfortably granola so I should feel at home. And have I mentioned I love music?

Justify poor decision making... check.

As usual I am running late. So instead of meeting at his place we meet at a hotel near downtown. Seedy? Hardly. I was just leaving my car in the Hilton parking lot.

We make a quick stop for beer so he can brown bag it and I grab some sort of overpriced Starbucks in a bottle and we head over to the studio. There is virtually no where to sit, but we make our way to the front anyway. We find a very cozy spot, he sat on the couch amidst lesbians and a much older woman and I sat on the floor in front of him with his new bff's wife.

His new bff turns out to be a man who cries… a lot… a snotty kind of crying… with tissues and toilet paper… and whimpering. Good thing he doesn’t really know the guy. I’m certain we both dodged a bullet. Besides this guy thought he knew Link from Dallas Seminary and Link, as I would come to find out, has little in common with his dad the pastor.

The concert is amazing. Link whispers to me to tell me which songs he likes. He gives me a little back rub. He sings along. The music is fabulous. I make a few mental notes… maybe the Starbucks in a bottle is worth the price and when I get home I need to buy some David Wilcox on iTunes.

I have a really good time. I start to think there is some sort of hope for Link and I.

Absolute trickery.

So I go home knowing that I had a wonderful time. And perhaps in the future things will change with Link, but for now, still nothing physical.

Date 26: Wow

2009-03-23T00:55:00.001-05:00

So Khaki Pants doesn't reply to me all week... Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday...

Sunday at 11pm he tells me he meant to reply sooner but his week got crazy. Really?

If a man is interested he doesn't get too busy to text, call, or email for a week. I don't need an over hyped book to know he's just not that in to me. And I deserve better than that.

PPH Part 4: Science at its worst

2009-03-15T23:56:00.001-05:00

Supersaturation. The term refers to a solution (in this example, me) that contains more of the dissolved material (in this example, alcohol) than could be dissolved by the solvent under normal circumstances (in this example, any day other than St. Patrick's Day or New Years Eve). Now the issue? It seems that at some point in the afternoon when I thought I was okay, we suffered a terrible miscalculation. Nucleation.

Nucleation is the extremely localized budding of a distinct thermodynamic phase. Note that nucleation is a physical process, not a chemical process... I only say this to clarify that I do not have a chemical dependency or substance abuse issue.

Look at it like an unstable supersaturated solution of sodium acetate. So, if you can think of each molecule (drink I've had during the day) as a domino in a meta-stable state of being stood on its edge, and realize that there are 10^22 molecules in a drinking glass sized system, it only take one impurity (one more drink) to knock them over. Dominoes resulting in omnidirectional needle-like crystals radiating outward from the impurity on contact at the solution's surface.

In layman's terms, with visual aid...

I had one, maybe two small cups of beer (beer ponging it up) and then I made a newer new friend.

PPH Part 3- I blame the police

2009-03-15T23:50:00.000-05:00

No worries. He didn't eat my face or anything. Turns out he's younger than me. By more than a lot. So I meander back over to my friends who have decided we should go to some house parties. Frankly, I think they only intended to help me walk off some of the morning's activities since it was barely after lunch time.

So down the street we go. Pretty sure we walked 50 miles, or at least a couple blocks. We arrived at granola's house with his fancy hardwood floors and sexy granola appeal. I was in no condition to discuss his sexy granola appeal with anyone and decided to stand near the first boss, the triathlete or Montana and nod my head about whatever they were interested in talking about. Then I ate some carrots. Sober people eat carrots. Good for me.

The problem was, by the time we left granola's house my ability to talk to strangers had diminished. I was feeling insecure and awkward. I mostly wanted to go grab lunch as the mini donuts and carrots were turning out to be less than filling as the only meals of the day. But we moved on in search of yet another party.

The police forced us off the main road and into a neighborhood. Little did they know, that quick detour would be the turning point in my entire day.

We stumbled on a party full of Montana's coworkers. I was pretty much back to my normal self. And stood close to Ken at the edge of the yard... at first.

PPH Part 2

2009-03-15T23:45:00.000-05:00

Now after you see a parade float for bail bonds that says "because it really does" and you have to decide for yourself if they are refering to jail being no fun or the relationship you might develope with your new cellmate, there is only one thing to do. Eat more mini donuts and drink more champagne. Out of the bottle. Standing in front of the port-o-potty.

Then you make more random friends. You take pictures with them even though you have no intention of ever seeing them again. You do some jello shots. You drink more champagne. Then you realize the illustrious stripper, bail bond, alumni group and bar floats have come to an end. It's a good thing someone was taking pictures. I don't think I saw more than 3 floats (if you can call a flat bed trailer full of drunks a float).

So we headed toward Trinity Hall with our new friends. On the way we stopped at the cruiser so I could drop off the cooler and put on deodorant... in front of strangers. Unfortunately at this point all hope of my having any manners was lost.

Trinity Hall brought us more drinks and more firends. Sadly though, the people who met us there were still, what's the word I'm looking for... sober. On the flip side, the triathlete turns out to be an amazing wingman for her drunk friends and somehow this happened...

Pale People Holiday

2009-03-15T23:40:00.002-05:00

It's interesting how Americans have managed to pervert a holiday celebrating the life, death and lasting legacy through mission work of a saint. We've turned a Roman-Catholic feast day into a gumbo filled with lame phrases such as "kiss me I'm Irish", "Do you have any Irish in you? Would you like some?", "Who's your paddy?" and an assortment of commercial items from cheesy hats to green feather boas. What a disgusting gumbo.

I, however, fondly refer to the day as Pale People Holiday (PPH). It's not a government holiday, but it should be. The only reason it's not? The government has a thing against gingers.

So, I rose fairly early to prepare for PPH. I gathered orange juice and champagne. I hunted down mini donuts. It was my mission this PPH to class up Greenville. If you're going to drink before noon, make it a breakfast drink. So you don't like mimosas? Try a bloody mary (I like mine super spicy with avocado as garnish). There we are standing about on our newly claimed piece of American soil, an accomplishment not so easily attained by our Irish immigrant forefathers. It was prime real estate. A few feet from the parade, a few more feet from the port-o-potty, a few more feet from a plethora of drunken gingers and engineers celebrating pi day.

I was in heaven. And it was classy. At first.

Then this happened...

Date 26: Back to Legitimate Dates

2009-03-15T22:00:00.001-05:00

I ran across Khaki Pants during my online dating attempts. True, the psychic told me I should be dating guys with dark hair, but hell, I thought I would give Khaki Pants and his blonde locks a shot.

We had been communicating through a series of long emails and text messages. He seemed witty and good natured. So, there I was. Running on about 4 hours of sleep. Slightly hungover. Chapped lips from making out with Seersucker last night. I'm sure I'm exactly what Khaki Pants is looking for in a woman.

So I was early, he was late. I had on jeans and was enjoying a venti soy chai. He had on khaki pants and was not really enjoying black coffee. In retrospect it's clear this isn't going anywhere, but at the time I saw nerd and I got excited. Woohoo! My favorite thing.

So he tells me he was in orchestra. I tell him I was too. I guess that he played the violin. I was right. He guessed that I played the clarinet. He was wrong. I let him talk about himself. He let me talk about him. But still, all I felt were butterflies and I was certain we would eventually have a white picket fence, 2 kids, and a garden full of fresh herbs. At the end of each day we would make sweet, sweet music with our stringed instruments. How perfect.

We walked to our cars. I didn't want to kiss Khaki Pants(the first red flag I actually chose to acknowledge but then excused away). I figured I liked him SO much I didn't want to kiss him. The connection was clearly there on a friend level and I could create chemistry with this math major turned MBA.

But alas. Khaki Pants didn't want to see me again. How does that happen?

I was rejected by a nerd. Fantastic.

Date 24: I think Wayne's Wine Bar is Bad Mojo

2009-03-10T00:40:00.001-05:00

What do you get when you add dim lighting, great art work, music, an amazing wine selection, fabulous staff and a cozy little restaurant/wine bar together? For most people, I'm pretty sure you get sex. For me you get a giant piece of pepper stuck in your teeth that you don't notice until you get home and a guy that won't be calling again.

Date 23: There are two kinds of 39

2009-03-06T00:26:00.001-06:00

And he was the bad kind.

We had great conversation over the phone. He makes me laugh. He's gainfully employed. He seems fairly conservative politically. Things are falling into place nicely. At one point during a conversation he mistakenly starts think I'm a non meat eating Presbyterian... ( I said pescatarian)... the whole thing was confusing, but still funny.

So I drive over toward Addison after work. I am okay with the distance I am having to drive away from my house, because this one has so much potential to pan out into greatness. After all I'm certain that at this point I've shluffed off the negative dating energy (which I think was compounded by the psychic talking about it out loud).

Butterflies.

Nervous energy.

Check my makeup again.

Cover bags under eyes from a long day at work.

Bite lips to make them more red and puffy. That says "I'm so kissing you"

Get out of car.

Adjust top so the girls look as ready for action as possible.

Trust that he doesn't break the mold and stares inappropriately at my chest.

Walk toward restaurant.

Pace.

Casually check to make sure zipper is zipped. Check.

See him coming toward me.

Consider kissing him to start the date and get it out of the way while my lips are still stinging from the bite.

Change my mind.

Abruptly.

Blink.

Rub my eyes.

eHarmony is full of liars.

Is he 5'7"?

I think he may have grand kids.

Throw up in my mouth a little.

Get through the meal.

Reconcile the evening in my head with the realization that he would be a fun friend.

Not a friend with benefits to clarify.

More of a last call, everyone else you know is out of town friend.

Let him pay.

I've already paid emotionally.

Wow. He makes 39 seem really old.

Avoid his offer to walk me to my car.

The negative energy is back. Thanks Miss Cleo.

Date 22: He Owes Me $35

2009-03-01T22:18:00.001-06:00

Once again I shake off the bad and I get all kinds of excited about how things are going with the banker. He sends text messages that make me smile all day (I guess banking doesn't require a huge amount of time). He talks about finding the right girl to eventually settles down and have a family with. He likes to golf and says he doesn't drink that often. He shares pictures of him with his neices and nephews. The banker... he pretty much is offering me free checking, no atm fees, great interest rates, etc. I'm into that. I do love marketing... and banking. It's a match made in the college of business.

So we make plans to go to the hockey game on Sunday. Then I don't hear from him. Then I get a text about golf. Then a text about drinking and golfing. Then a text about meeting me after the game.

Yikes with the booze Mr. Banker man. You're a little too much. All those things that made you so attractive? They had fine print that I missed. Your texting wrote a check you couldn't cash.

You should know better. Writing checks you can't cash results in overdraft fees. You owe me $35.

Date 21: Self Inflicted Wound

2009-02-26T22:19:00.001-06:00

I didn't want to go out tonight. I told Leather Couch I was busy this week. I told him more than once. But I'm that girl. That girl who no matter how opposed she is to wasting her time with a certain owner of leather couches... she eventually gives in and wastes her evening with him anyway.

The night was uneventful. Nothing to talk about. I managed to barely speak. I avoided him by bringing along other friends. He tried to tell one of my friends something about dating using his vast knowledge of women (ha). I rolled my eyes so far back that I gave myself a headache.

On the way to the car I told him goodnight.

"Well... it was nice seeing you. My car is that way. See you later."

"Let me walk you."

"No thanks. My car is just in the next lot over." That was a lie. My car was a good block away.

"Let me walk you."

"Really, I'm fine. I walk by myself all the time down here." Sure, cause I'm a dumb girl that walks by myself downtown in the dark often.

He was so persistent. But I know how leather couch is. You give him a yes to walking you to your car and the next thing you know you are laying on leather couch staring up at the wall and a painting of a boat that you think would be perfect in the waiting room of a urologists office wondering how he got his hand up your shirt. No thanks.

Date 20: Infectious Disease

2009-02-19T22:20:00.001-06:00

Infectious disease didn't have an infectious disease until after the date.

After all these awkward dates, I needed a sure thing.

Flashback to April 2006.

He looks good on paper. Met him a few days before. Dropped a quick email the next morning saying hey... which does wonders for a girl's self esteem. He's quick witted. Able to dish out as much (if not slightly more) as I am giving him. Impressive. He can keep up mentally. Put a check mark in his plus column. Back and forth with the email. Perhaps we'll see each other Thursday, maybe we should car pool, let's meet after work. Pause.

We meet up in Frisco, he brings me hot tea. He suggests we ride together to his place and carpool from there. Okay.

So in the house. I make mental notes as I get the official tour. Furniture matches, although obviously man furniture. Hardwood floors. Nice patio. Very clean. Organized. Duke MBA (like I wouldn't notice that). Great artwork. Cross above the bed (Catholic?). And then my mind wanders... He seems to add up to such a nice piece of man... so what is wrong? Could it be that he intimidate women with his nice clean home or his education or any number of things that I am finding intimidating... Could it be that when he talks in person and not via email he is socially inept... possible. Could it be that he has six toes on his left foot... who knows.

Back in 2009, I decide to call infectious disease. I mean, my blog paints him out to be a pretty decent catch and he's still on the market. This must bode well. I've kissed him before, so there's no pressure there. Well a little pressure maybe.

Sometimes infectious disease and I have great chemistry, some times not so much. Sometimes I want to kiss him like a high school girl while we lean against my car outside fireside pies. Sometimes I want him to take his stupid Transformers dvd and get out of my apartment. I tell myself to shake it off. I haven't seen him in ages (since the Transformers incident as I have come to call it).

So he meets me at the Stars game. Still cute? Yes.

We sit. We watch hockey. We flirt. We drink a few beers. I cough. He asks if I'm feeling okay. I tell him I think so, probably just allergies. He doesn't kiss me. He's afraid I'm sick. I tell him I'm not. We both know I'm lying.

Two days later I wake up in a cold sweat. My sheets are all wet from the sweat. I'm dizzy. I try to get up to go to the bathroom. I fall. I vomit. I have the flu.

Sadly, so did he. Hence, infectious disease.

But what have we learned from all this?

#1. It's okay to reread a book, especially since now you can skip to the parts you like.

#2. You might as well kiss me if you want to. Even if you don't, I still might give you the flu. And isn't it better to get it from making out than from sharing a few fries?

Date 19: He Thinks I'm a Slut, I Think He's a Jerk... I Guess That Makes Us Even

2009-02-15T22:22:00.001-06:00

This experience can be summed up in about 5 minutes of actualy activity. We leave the bar in his car. My car is only a few blocks away. He asks why we don't get to know each other biblically. I say because I have other plans and I'm late. He laughs and says we should because he knows I'm a slut. He means this as a compliment. He offers to bring the delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol if I bring my vagina. Classy. Still, no thanks.

Date 18: It Never Happened

2009-02-14T22:24:00.001-06:00

To be more accurate, it did happen, just not for me.

We talked about going out a few times. We just never could quite make the connection. Besides, he made me promise not to write about my date with him, which makes the whole prospect of going on a date far less exciting. So why the post? Because if there was no legitimate dating, I can write about the lack of dating and not feel bad about myself. Semantics.

We finally got our ducks in a row a few bar nights back. Then he hit on my friend the triathlete. While I was sitting there. He put his hand on the back of her chair. He focused the conversation on her. When I mentioned it after the fact, he said something to the affect of "you were having fun, but she wasn't so we felt like we needed to pay more attention to her so she wouldn't make you leave."

Happy birthday to me because apparently he thinks I was born yesterday.

I am hopeless when it comes to the idea that there is the tiniest chance that I will one day be swept off my feet by a man who kisses me awake, I will shrug off my mermaid tail and fit my new foot into a glass slipper and we'll learn that it's not about looks but rather living in a world where everyone sings about everything and we'll live happily ever after.

I know that's not whre this was going. He was just trying to help me fill my quota, but it still stung a smidge.

Then valentine's day rolled around. Again we go out. Again he says, "don't write about me." I'm sensing that the reason he doesn't want to be written about is because he's about to pick up another chick while we're at the bar and pawn me off on one of his friends. Hahaha... kidding. Who would do that in real life?

Oh wait... this guys would.

Date 17: Dukes of Hazzard

2009-02-12T22:24:00.001-06:00

Cute.

Funny.

Moderatly intelligent.

Good time.

Good kisser.

Impresive ability to slide across the hood of his own car.

Second date? No.

Huge potential for friendship? Yes.

Possibility of more kissing in the future? Why not.

Date 16: Ice Cream and Old Friends

2009-02-10T22:26:00.001-06:00

Why we are never single and on the same page at the time, I am not sure. Perhaps the ten years and the over abundance of history prohibits things from coming together, but I'm guessing it's my lackof blonde hair or ridiculously (unnatuarally) firm breasts. Who knows.

Regardless, he did buy me ice cream and what girl can bad mouth an outting that culminated in ice cream paid for by a man whether or not he wants to sleep with you?

So... kudos. Automatic high rating on this one.

Date 15: Pedafiles Always Have that Kind of Mustache

2009-02-08T22:27:00.001-06:00

This was over the moment he decided to not shave the makings of his molestache before leaving the house. With the traffic in DFW and the driving distance to most bars, at best, this date was over 25 minutes before I laid eyes on him.

Date 14: Pearl Snaps and an Affinity for South American Mujers

2009-02-06T22:28:00.001-06:00

So I am white. Very very white. Painfully, stereotypically white.

I am a grammar freak rather than a freak in the sheets. I don't have enough junk in my trunk to be classified as more than a mini cooper... that car won't even hold groceries for more than one person for a couple days. Think this... ... only circa 2009.... which might make me more like this...

Regardless, as I sat across from pearl snaps listening to him rattle on about himself (I'm getting really good at listening to men talk about themselves and have almost forgotten that at some point in my life I actually thought conversations went both ways and included more than one topic), I wondered if he could do anything else other than spit out 1001 facts about himself in record time.

Then a moment of hope. He started to change the subject.

Hope was fleeting however as his new topic of conversation took shape.

"I love Latina women. Did you see those two girls over there?"

"I did...?"

"They are smoking hot. En fuego. I love the curves on Latina women. Did you see their asses?"

"I did...?"

Now I can clearly see where the stereotypes are taking this conversation. But who am I to stop this gem of convo?

"Latina women are less inhibited in bed. I am really into that. I mean seriously, I hope I'm not offending you, I'm just being honest."

"No please, honesty is the best policy." And it makes my friends laugh more later than if this were going well.

"Have you ever been with someone Latina?" This he said with the smarmiest tone he could have without the use of a zappa stash, which he did not have even the slightest makings of.

"You mean Latino?"

"Heh-heh. I guess that's what I meant. Unless you're into that sort of thing."

The rest of the time spent with pearl snaps is a blur of my wishing I were less conservative, more curvy, not so pale, and some how exotic... or something. But, I am still very very white. And as I stood to leave the table and walk quickly away from pearl snaps, I grabbed the waistband of my jeans to pull them the few inches back up to my waist since my lack of curves weren't keeping things in place.

Date 13: Two Delusionals Do Not Make a Good Match

2009-02-05T22:29:00.001-06:00

He thought he was too good for me. I knew better.

I thought I was too good for him. He knew better.

The problem?

Neither of us would step down off our high horses long enough to stop judging each other silently. My face said, "in your dreams." His face so, "actually you're not the kind of girl I dream about." The whole thing was very unfortunate. Perhaps the psychic was right. I am clearly projecting a terrible negative energy during dates. I'm aware of it. I see it floating from in like the black smoke thing in LOST (I never understood that show). Oh well. I continued to look at him with a skeptical eye knowing that if I let my guard down for half a second he might weasel his way in and end up making me sorry I feel for it down the line. He continued to look at me like he knew I was "that girl", the one that no matter what a guy does it would never work out. Delusional. Both of us. What a match.

Date 12: More Comfortable with Cancer than Conversation

2009-02-01T22:30:00.001-06:00

So I kept running into the oncologist in the strangest places. The ice cream place in Uptown, the Central Market in Southlake... It's not like I generally run into the same person in both of those locations. Seriously, they are like 30 miles apart.

So he swims, runs, cycles, loves to travel, is a doctor, and has the social skills of a squid. I keep running through the whole mess with a little Ben Franklin decision making. No matter how many positives I have put on the list his crazy lady laugh makes this a no go. I think chortle is perhaps the best description of it. The more uncomfortable he got, the longer the date went on, the more he laughed in that frightful way. Yikes.

*chortle chortle*

Date 11: Too Painful and Not Funny

2009-01-31T22:31:00.001-06:00

So I actually met a nice guy. I was into him. He was not into me. Nothing else to report.

Date 10: Microsoft... No, that's not a euphamism

2009-01-27T21:51:00.001-06:00

Apparently Microsoft works for Microsoft in a mob like way. In true mobster fashion, he is open about his work but follows the "I work for Microsoft" statement by saying that he can't actually tell people he works for Microsoft. Sounds a little shady to me.

This guy, much like Sammy Gravano, couldn't stick to the mob rules of speaking nothing of what you know and not speaking about things that should not be spoken. Both are rats... Unfortunately, for Gravano, he is wasting away in prison with a thyroid disorder and multiple convictions. Fortunately, for Microsoft, I'm pretty sure he was lying about working for Microsoft, not breaking the sacred covenant he claimed to have made with Microsoft regarding the secrecy of his supposed employment.

I know I openly profess to have a thing for nerds, but seriously, let's not make things up. And if you feel the need to make something up, go with astrophysics. It's a heck of a lot sexier than Microsoft.

"Never open your mouth unless you're in a dental chair"
-Sammy "The bull" Gravano.

Son of a Pastor Man, The Final Date

2009-01-27T00:51:00.001-06:00

I went out with the son of a pastor man (again... I know... I'm like a kicked puppy... I keep coming back even though I know it's gonna suck) on Monday. As usual he texted that the night had more in store romatically than previously dates, but I resigned myself not to get my hopes up. We ordered take out from Carino's and I met him at his place with a bottle of wine in hand. Promising? Yes.

After dinner we watched tv. He suggested I get more comfortable. What does that mean? There are so many levels of "getting comfortable." So I took off my clothes.

Okay, not really, I leaned back on the couch with my feet up. This is a big move for high strung Lacey. Props to me from me. Thanks me.

Does this added level of comfort result in any action? No. Still promising? No.

BUT... Tonight I tried something new. At the end of the night instead of wondering if he was going to make a move, I chose to reject him. I stood up and said, "I have to go." He said, "wait- give me a sec."
But I didn't. I just left. Didn't even let him walk me to the door. He looked stunned. Who's the kicked puppy now?

Which brings me to the end of the story about me and the son of pastor. It turns out the song is all wrong. The only boy who could ever reach me? The only boy who could ever teachme? No. No, he wasn't.

Amen.

Date 9: Oklahoma

2009-01-24T11:21:00.001-06:00

Whistle.

Usually being around people I have something in common with puts me at ease. I don’t think that is the case with people from Oklahoma. I actually believe on some level that everyone worth knowing from Oklahoma, I already know. I spent 15 years there meeting people. If during all those years I missed a good person, our friendship/relationship simply wasn’t meant to be.

“What is your ring for?” I ask being all smiles and sunshine.

“It’s my Mason ring. It was my grandfathers. When I joined the Masons I started wearing it and quite wearing my Oklahoma State ring.”

My mind flashes back to crazy college parties in Stillwater. There is always the unfortunate possibility when I meet someone my age or a few years older that went to OSU that I made out with them during a bet (common bets with my roommate included who can kiss the most guys in one night without feeling obligated to have a conversation of any kind, bonus points if you don’t tell them your name). So like a rapid slide show I rack my brain… he does kind of look like Josh Rasp… Mmmm Raspy… He was fun.

In the spirit of Raspy, I order another drink. The waitress stops by and Oklahoma orders for me. He remembers what I had at the bar earlier in the evening; he even remembers the extra garnish. I’m impressed.

I tell him I will definitely write nice things about him in my little notebook where I am keeping notes so that I can keep everyone straight in my head. I’m a bitch. I’m lying to him. He’s too short for my cute shoes. He would know this if we both stood up. Raspy was too short for cute shoes too, but as a college freshman flip flops and chucks were my shoes of choice. Both flat.

Sorry Oklahoma. I dig that you lived in Great Falls. I dig that you traveled all over the west coast on 6 month road trip. I totally dig that you grew up with horses and used to bull ride. In a perfect world where flat shoes reigned, we would be a match.

But this is the real world. Even average looking pale girls are superficial.

*sigh*

Whistle.

Date 8:The Date Formerly Known as Dumpy Guy #40: I’m Going to Hell

2009-01-24T11:07:00.001-06:00

Whistle.

Guy sits down. I originally planned to refer to him as Dumpy Guy #40, but as I told my brother about the interaction, a new name was born…
Sure, at this point I’ve had a few drinks. But I’m not so intoxicated that I am being unreasonable. I have however lost control of some of my manners. So as he tells me about his son who he doesn’t have custody of but still gets to see on occasion even though the bitch of a baby momma tries to keep him from their kid blah blah blah… I realize I am rocking slightly from side to side.

What?

It was an unconscious action and the question I asked myself next, “why are you doing that?”

So I sit on my hands and refocus on the story.

“If you don’t like to go 178 miles an hour and do things fast, I’m not the guy for you. I just had back surgery. I was throwing hay. I haven’t left the house in over two weeks until tonight. My son wants to be me. Wah wah wah wah wahh wahh waaaahh wah wah.”

Well, date formerly known as Dumpy Guy #40, you’re not the guy for me for a lot of reasons, one of which has just become glaringly obvious. One: You’re dumpy. Two: You have a kid that you don’t have custody of for one reason of another. Three: Your stories result in a lot of Charlie Brown adult speak that sounds all “wahh wahh wah wah wahhh wahh.” Four (the glaringly obvious reason): I was rocking back and forth because I can’t tell if you are looking at me and unconsciously I was trying to shift into your line of sight.

That’s right, Googly Eye had googly eye. No telling if he was looking at me, or Tiffany, or the girl to my left, or the picture behind me, etc. You know what I’m talking about and if you laughed, at least I’ll have a friend in hell.

I’m wishing the host would blow the whistle on this. It’s making me nauseous like a spinning carnival ride. Maybe Googly Eye is wondering when this will be over too, he seems to be looking for her, or me, or something… again, I can’t tell.

Whistle.

Date 7: What? Do you swim too?

2009-01-24T02:05:00.001-06:00

Whistle.

Suit jacket sits down. I ask how his night is going and he tells me it's okay since he has a beer. Begin dissertation on how much he loves Shiner.

"If you love Shiner beer and barbecue, you should look into Shiner GASP... actually it may have a different name now."

"What is that? Is there beer?"

"Well you meet in Austin and ride your bike 102 miles to-"

"What? Do you swim too?"

He sounds completely disgusted at the fact that I would mention a bike and then assumes that must mean (as appalling as it was to him) that I also swim.

"Yes. Why?"

"Well that girl swims and run and bikes and does those triathlons and-"

"Yes, I know, that's my friend Tiffany."

At this point the conversation is dead in the water. He has such a level of disdain on his face. This must be how Teal Shirt, Piano Man and Sandy Blonde Mess felt sitting across from me. No, surely I was friendlier than his guy is being. Then a break in the clouds. A moment of hope. A glimmer.

"So what else is at that bike thing?"

I perk right back up. I love talking about these things.

"Free beer, brewery tours, live music, barbecue, vegan options-"

"I didn't even think they let those... vegetarians into Texas... Wait let me guess... you're one of those people too."

So two minutes into our four minute almost love connection, it was over. I didn't bother speaking anymore and neither did suit jacket. FYI, I work with an office full of guys I see in suit jackets. Funeral home directors wear suit jackets. Door to door office supply salesmen wear suit jackets. The two attorney's that bought me some fries earlier because they felt sorry for me after they saw me talking to Teal Shirt are wearing suit jackets. Wearing a suit jacket does not make you awesome. I'm actually certain you've had a full awesomectomy removing all the awesome you once had and leaving you a shell of man in a suit jacket who says offensive things to the lifelong swimmer recently turned pescatarian from vegetarian. Oh, it does get you nicknamed Suit Jacket. Kudos on that big accomplishment, Suit Jacket.

Date 6: Sandy Blonde Mess

2009-01-24T01:56:00.001-06:00

Whistle.

Sandy Blonde Mess strolls over with a very laid back surfer vibe. The only problem? He's not a surfer.

Okay, I lied, that is not the only problem... That is just the first in a string of problems.

- He's wearing track pants in a bar, not funny-guy-who-wears-track-pants track pants, I-thought-this-would-lend-credibility-to-what-I'm-about-to-tell-you track pants

- He's wearing them with a polo in a clashing color

- He claims he's a tennis pro ("really? where?" I ask mustering up fake interest. "just some place in Plano" thanks for being so vague)

This brings us to a little intermission in list of problems. When I ask someone a direct question and they don't give me a direct answer, I assume they are hiding something. So rather than tell me something I no doubt would have forgotten 2 seconds later, cause let's be honest, I couldn't have cared less, he get's all vague. Hey Sandy Blonde Mess D-Bag, this is speed dating, spill it. So I am forced to come home and run a little Google interferance on his criptic answer. So if anyone is interested in where they can find a Sandy Blonde Mess D-Bag in Plano (this specific one, I am aware there are a lot there), email me and I'll let you know. Back to the problem list...

- He claims he teaches at all ages (I'm sensing a piano man vibe with the teaching, please don't list the 50 states)

- He says there are no single people in Plano and he ought to have a wife and kids (like asap? yikes)

- The only thing about him that makes the tennis pro thing somewhat likely is his sun damaged skin

- Zero personality... "Hi! Brick wall? It's me, Lacey."

Whistle.

That actually seemed short. I must have blacked out for a minute or two.

Date 5: The Piano Man... Yep I definitely threw up in my mouth

2009-01-24T01:55:00.001-06:00

In the spirit of the piano man (who gets a nickname not just because I think it’s the fair thing to do when I am writing about people who don’t have the opportunity to defend themselves, but because I honestly couldn’t have told you his name 15 seconds after he walked off) I will be including a ridiculous amount of music terminology, most of which will be grossly misused.

Whistle.

When piano man sat down I was feeling fairly at ease (Adagio). However he immediately began speaking as loud as possible (fortississimo), shouting at me across the 36 inches that separated us. Perhaps playing piano had caused him to suffer a bit of hearing loss.

“HAVE YOU DONE THIS BEFORE!?!”

“No.”

“I PLAY THE PIANO! I TEACH PIANO! I APPLIED FOR JOBS TEACHING PIANO AT JUNIOR COLLEGES ALL OVER THE WORLD! WELL NOT ALL OVER THE WORLD! JUST ALL OVER THE US! SOUTH DAKOTA, MISSISSIPPI, CALIFORNIA, MONTANA, CONNECTICUT, ARKANSAS, GEORGIA, NORTH DAKOTA, OHIO, NEW HAMPSHIRE, NEW MEXICO, DELAWARE, NEW YORK, MAINE, OKALHOMA, NORTH CAROLINA, OREGON, MARYLAND, IDAHO, VERMONT, KANSAS, ALABAMA, INDIANA, LOUISIANA, MINNESOTA, NEVADA, WYOMING, ALASKA, RHODE ISLAND, COLORADO, MISSOURI, NEBRASKA, MASSACHUSETTS, WISCONSIN, IOWA, ARIZONA, FLORIDA, VIRGINIA, ILLINOIS, KENTUCKY, HAWAII, NEW JERSEY, WASHINGTON, MICHIGAN, PENNSYLVANIA, TEXAS, SOUTH CAROLINA, TENNESSEE, UTAH, WEST VIRGINIA… DID I MENTION CONNECTICUT!?! HAVE YOU DONE THIS BEFORE!?!”

Having been asked twice (bis) makes me a little irritated, but the way he is clasping his hands into a piano fingered, white knuckled mess makes me fear that perhaps he will lunge across the table and strangle me should I mention his mistake.

“No.”

This 4 minute conversation was intended to for two voices (a due) but I am feeling so anguished (affanato) that all I can do is sit with closed mouth (bocca chiusa). He seems very agitated (agitato) as he spits the details of his life at me. In an almost warlike, aggressive (bellicoso) way, he asks, “DO YOU GO TO CHURCH!?! EVERY SUNDAY!?! WHERE!?! SO YOU READ THE BIBLE!?! HOW OFTEN!?! HOW WERE YOU RAISED!?!” As he asks he gets faster and louder (incalzando). I answer his questions half softly (mezzo piano).

At first sight (a prima vista) I didn’t expect such an attack without a gap or pause (attacca). But for four minutes I felt like I was dying away (espirando).

I would say it is fairly evident why I have blocked his real name from my mind. Clearly he was a sociopath.

Date 4: Teal Shirt... I think I just threw up in my mouth

2009-01-24T01:53:00.001-06:00

Clarissa explains it all and the triathlete call dibs on teal shirt before I even notice him, so while I will be spending 4 minutes with him, I will not be enjoying his company further. Is it fair to call dibs in this manner? No, and usually I would call BS on the whole business of calling dibs, but Teal Shirt is a walking nightmare and Clarissa explains it all and the triathlete clearly called dibs just in case he was wearing a giant full body (with mask and poorly cut wig) suit that he would rip off at the end of the night exposing his true sexy self… or at least a man who looked as though he had checked himself out in a mirror since the 90s. Little did we know at that point that Teal Shirt might have been the best the night had to offer.

Whistle.

Teal Shirt sits down and I am thankful I only have to spend 4 minutes of my life talking to him. No less unfortunate looking than this fellow, it turned out that Teal Shirt had bigger problems than his looks. He informed me of his goals… eventually finish school, get a job doing… something… get remarried (that’s right, I may have been unable to find a spouse, but Teal Shirt, he has had at least some level of success even though it ended in heart breaking divorce that took him all of 3 weeks to get over before he started speed dating, though technically it didn’t even take that long cause he said he has been to a lot of speed dating events… yikes)… live in Dallas County forever. Go ahead, picture Squints from The Sandlot… For-ev-er. For-ev-er.

At this point I am sorry to admit exactly how judgmental and rude of a person I am (probably why I’m single), but Teal Shirt is causing me pain. I start to laugh and have to cover my mouth. He’s so sad. I try to stop laughing. I snort. I choke back more laughter. My eyes start to water. I have no control over the fact that I am laughing at this guy to his face. The triathlete says I just looked like I was enjoying the conversation. That’s good, because what I was really enjoying was his pain.

After what seemed like eternity, I was put out of misery. Surely this is as bad as it will get.

Whistle.

Speed Dating… Oh the Shame

2009-01-24T01:50:00.001-06:00

The Triathlete and I decide that rather than try to go on 29 separate dates, we will submit ourselves to one of the most shameful experiences in modern dating. Speed Dating. 4-6 minutes of uncomfortable conversation. Whistle. 4-6 minutes of uncomfortable conversation. Whistle.

The Triathlete, a gorgeous, educated, well spoken, gainfully employed executive is humoring me by coming along. No girl wants to pain herself with this kind of activity alone. When we arrive, we meet Clarissa Explains It All. She is alone. We invite her to join us… safety in numbers. A few minutes in the door and the night is already reminding me of something I saw on National Geographic around a watering hole.

I remind myself this is for research. And it kills multiple birds with one stone.

Date 1.?: If You Could Even Call it a Date

2009-01-15T23:59:00.001-06:00

Guys always say they are confused by what girls actually want. Well, let me tell you. We want to be respected, know that you like us for who we are not what we look like. But at the same time, we have to know that you find us at least a little bit physically attractive otherwise, why not just go hang out with your buddies.

Tonight’s plan… head to the wine bar where I will have a chance to look hot due to the very dark lightening and the booze. Could I give myself better odds? No. So the plan, if I still feel like a leper* at the end of this, I will wash my hands of this particular man. Besides I’m certain there are other men that given a dark room and wine would make a move.

So I arrive at the wine bar a few minutes late but not as late as Link. I sit beside an attractive older gentleman at the bar a few seats away from another older gentleman. The waiters and the two gentlemen are very friendly. They chat with me as I wait (patiently) for Link. He calls at 7pm, 15 minutes after we planned to meet. “I’m lost.” Well, it takes a special man to admit that, so 1 point to Link.

After he finally arrives, he grabs a seat next to me and goes through a very painful to watch wine selection process. For that, no points. I even considered giving him a negative point for the length of time it took.

There is little to no conversation occurring. He mentions that I am being quiet. I tell him I am working on being more comfortable with silence. He tells me he appreciates that and winks. Winks. Winks? Does that mean, “wow I’m glad you finally shut up” with a wink at the end to make it seem like less harsh of a statement. Either way I let it slide because I am slowly developing a red wine haze.

Guy next to me keeps talking to me, guy on the other side of Link keeps talking to me, guy next to me leaves and sexy-sexy musician swoops into the seat and starts talking to me… Link, not doing much talking to anyone.

I would like to take this moment to say that women do not want a man that goes into some blackout jealous rage. But seriously if every guy in the place is talking to the girl you’re with, at least mark your territory. Put your hand on my leg or at least the back of my chair (that doesn’t break any skin on skin contact rules that may be in effect).

At some point in the evening Link says, “I would spend the night with you, but I have to be up early in the morning.” At this point I’m wondering if I asked him to spend the night and forgot… pretty sure I didn’t. But heck, I’ll play along. “Earlier than I usually get up? Cause I can set the alarm.” No response. Okay, tested the water, not good, no swimming today.

Then after what seems like a never ending evening of my wanting him to make a move, his not making a move, and sexy-sexy musician playing sexy-sexy music it’s time to go. Standing outside, Link has the nerve to reiterate that he would take me up on my offer to come over if he didn’t need to be up so early. I am still wondering what offer he is talking about. So I snap. “I call BS on this.”

“You call BS on what? You’re offer?”

“I didn’t make an offer and I call BS on your wanting to come over. You don’t even touch me in a wine bar.”

“It was too public.”

I don’t think there is a word that could describe the irritation I felt. Wine bar? Too public? For a simple gesture? I’m not asking him to get naked and do a dance. I’m asking him to show some interest somewhere other than a text message. Could I feel more undesirable? No. Could I be more irritated? No.

Wait.

Wait.

I forgot about the superhero powers that men wield. As he leaned in to hug me and PAT ME ON THE BACK I realized, I can in fact feel less desirable and be more irritated.

Then 30 minutes later as I lay in bed reading a book about torture and murder trying to cheer myself up, a text.

“Sorry I faded there at the end. I barely made it home. Already in bed. Had fun and maybe next time I’ll touch ya ;)”

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

*Not to be confused with a person affected by leprosy, but rather the lesser known definition of a person who is avoided by others, a pariah or social outcast.

Date 3: Dallas Rallied, My Date Didn't

2009-01-13T01:30:00.001-06:00

The Stars rebounded from a 3-1 second period deficit while I sat wondering if the guy I was with would allow me to speak. He was one of those really loud talkers so you know everyone around you is listening thinking, “wow, they are on one awkward first date.” Well, awkward is an understatement.

To kick off the night, the vegetarian hockey player said he was hungry and needed to use the restroom. It’s 7pm and the puck is about to drop, could either of those things have been handled before this exact moment? So he uses the restroom (which takes longer than most men, I’ll give him the benefit of believing he washed his hands really thoroughly and not that he had to sit). Then we make our way to a concession area where he orders a hotdog. For reference, please feel free to look at the seventh word in this paragraph. Was it a Morningstar Farms® America's Original Veggie Dogs® link? No. It was a regular old hotdog. Beef? Pork? Who knows, but it sure as heck wasn’t soy.

So Hot Dog asks me a question. Apparently he has put a 3 second limit on my answer before he breaks in to tell me something else. Question, 3 second, interrupt, question, 3 seconds, interrupt, question, 3 seconds, interrupt. The overall theme for the evening? Enough about you, let’s talk about me… in my LOUD VOICE. I must make a note to apologize to the people who sit around me at the next game. “Sorry guys, I won’t bring him again.”

So I am engrossed in the game. A reminder of why I usually take Matt, he doesn’t expect me to have a chatty conversation during play. He patiently waits until intermission of a stoppage. Three minutes left in regulation and Ott (henceforth Otter Pop cause I love those things) scores to tie the game at 4-4. I know, I’m leaving out a lot of pertinent hockey details for instance… Parrish, Robidas, Grossman, Otter Pop, and Daley all scored for Dallas (that’s five) while Hot Dog didn’t score at all (that’s zero).

Daley put in an amazing shot in overtime to give the Stars the 5-4 victory over the Detroit Red Wings. Hot Dog, still zero.

Goodbyes were… well… again, awkward. All I could do on the way home was be thankful there wasn’t a shoot out or a gun because I might have shot myself.

Date 1.4: The Date that Resulted in the Cancelation of Date 3

2009-01-11T00:16:00.001-06:00

As I sat in the entry area at Macaroni Grill I found myself observing a woman in boots, a floor length skirt with a slit up each side and a grey jacket/blouse (who's to say exactly, either way it was out of style). She had been at the hostess stand when I arrived.

"Did you already seat Steve, party of two?"

"I don't think so?" (the question mark is because most hostesses always look somewhat confused thus making statements more like questions)

"Don't you seat people by name?"

"Yes, but we don't keep track of where we seat people after we seat them."

"But I'm meeting him here."

"You are welcome to walk around and look for him."

"But I... never mind."

So I put my name on the list and head out to the entry to wait. It's a small area between two sets of doors which made it impossible not to watch the woman. She pulled a business card out of her purse with a phone number and the name Steve scrawled across the back in sharpie. Clearly she was on a first date. Clearly she didn't know what he looked like. Clearly she was freaking out. She paced in a frantic way that made me feel anxious as well and I wasn't on an awkward first date. I was getting tense, so I moved inside and sat on a different bench to wait. Moments later she came in and sat beside me. She would sit, then stand, then pace, then look at watch, then sit. It was a vicious cycle and I was wondering where Link was and when he would be saving me from this woman. The more she paced, the more I felt nervous for her. On a side note, if she needs courage to get through the date or something else that is part of dating, she should knock back 4-5 cape cods before he gets here. Then she'll have enough oomph for the date and a drunk text or two or 12 later tonight.

Link shows up and I immediately feel more relaxed. He is balancing her nervous energy with his relaxed nature. So dinner, great conversation, a car dealer's house burning down... typical date night. After another really enjoyable evening with Link, all I could do was cancel my late night drinks with Date 3. Maybe I'll reschedule, maybe I won't. But regardless, I can't go from Link to someone else in the same day. From someone else to Link? That would be doable.

Date 2: The Slow Talker That Killed a Piece of My Soul

2009-01-10T21:30:00.001-06:00

All I can say about date number two is yikes.

Had the chair I was sitting in been slightly more comfortable I am certain that I could have taken a pretty intense nap.

The... slowest... talker... in... the... entire... world... took... me... out... for... coffee... and... even... the... espresso... that... he... drank... did... not... increase... the... speed... of... his... speaking... or... his... wit.

Lame.

I can say though that I was inspired by a friend and midway through one of his very long and uninteresting tales of his depressingly boring existence, I bailed.

"So... then... I... tell... the... guy... I... only... wanted... "

"Um, slow talker? I gotta jet. No reason other than that you talk so slow that by the time I decide whether you could possibly be less interesting, I'll be 45 years old and out of viable eggs. Thanks for the tea."

New Plan of Attack and a Partner in Crime

2009-01-10T20:12:00.001-06:00

I've been trying to talk a friend into joining my experiment and today over a much needed, very long, makes you love your friends even more lunch it was decided that she would join me. The best part of the plan? The idea to go on a double date with the Catipillar and man necklace (that's right Hilscher, I said man necklace).

My partner in crime, who shall remain nameless until she chooses to go otherwise will grace us with two first dates this weekend. I'm pretty pumped as Sushi date sounds like it will result in her trying to avoid a second date and the often obligatory end of the date kiss and the second date involves a man with "connections in Puerto Rico and accessories." Awesome.