Saturday, December 31, 2011

The Daily Grind.

While at home in the Mitten for Christmas, I inadvertently created a monster.

I spent a few days in my favorite city, East Lansing, with a few of my favorite people.  My college BFFL joined me in The Emerald City, and we joined forces with another friend known as The Innkeeper.  Innkeeper is so aptly named because we always end up shacking up/over running her humble, Missoni for Target clad abode.

With Christmas still lingering in the air, and New Year's right around the corner, I was on a mini-mission to find a drinking buddy and if lucky enough, a date to watch the ball drop.  Plus, the city I'd spend the end of 2011 in was a bit dependent on where I could find a date.  It was a toss up between East Lansing and Nashville.  If I could find a date in The Mitten, I'd stay...if not, I'd truck it back down south.

Though I was not exactly attempting to be very discrete, I was not advertising my choice of means to find the aforementioned drinking buddy.  In this particular case, I just so happened to be using Grindr.  Innkeeper caught wind of my mini-mission, and without much hesitation, loved the idea of finding someone to join us on our drinking escapades.  Grindr and my Blackberry, which much like any Verizon phone nearing its 2-year contract renewal date, is on the verge of self destruction, do not get along very well.

Just as quick as Innkeeper was to offer up her Missoni abode, she insisted I install Grindr on her iPad to ease my troubles.  Innkeeper doesn't know a stranger, and could make friends with a brick...so the prospect of having a new pal to drink beer out of a bucket at our favorite college bar was quite intriguing to her.  Now before we get any further into this tale, Innkeeper is not exactly on the up and up  when it comes to any form of social networking.  She never has had and never will have Twitter, Facebook, or FourSquare.  Innkeeper hasn't even had a Myspace, and firmly believes that online profiles are for predators and homewreckers.  Clearly, Innkeeper and I have very different opinions of social networking, as I have all of the above, and have even dabbled with the lackluster Google+.

I gave Innkeeper a brief tutorial on the ins and outs of Grindr.  Unlike other social medias, Grindr is a very different form of networking.  I informed her what most guy's main objectives would be and to not be too offended if some messages weren't the most appropriate or g-rated.  Not everyone on Grindr starts out with a simple "hello".

I figured Innkeeper really wouldn't be too interested in using Grindr, social apps aren't her thing, and she's also not a gay male.  I thought for sure she'd be scared away by the numerous photos of headless torsos, nipples, or the veins along a guy's hips leading below the belt.  I knew Innkeeper would quickly get bored and ditch the app, so I thought certainly the coast was clear to hop in the shower real quick and get ready for the day.  Besides, how much trouble could she get into?

In a matter of just a few moments I had created a monster, and just as soon as the water started running, I was instantly bombarded with hundreds of questions.  Innkeeper busted up in the bathroom wanting to know what my age cutoff was, was 5'7" too short, what DDF meant,  what is VGL, HWP, LTR, etc. etc.

Innkeeper had no qualms whatsoever about messaging everyone who was currently logged in at the time.  She was getting her grind on.  I instantly regretted Innkeeper's access to Grindr, especially because it had MY picture on it and all my vitals.  Everyone was fair game to Innkeeper's grinding, as if I needed any help whatsoever attracting the freaks and geeks of the gay world.

I could not have dried off and gotten dressed any quicker than I did, but Innkeeper was having a field day, and it was my good standing reputation at stake.  Who knows, some of my past flings from my college days could still be in town and perhaps using Grindr at the very moment as she was.  Innkeeper failed to realize Grindr is not typically used to invite guys over for drinks and a Teen Mom 2 marathon, but mostly to meet up, get off, and move on.  

Before I could do much damage control, Innkeeper whisked us away in order to get to the nail salon.  It was time for pedicures.

I settled into my warm foot bath at my favorite Asian nail salon and immediately whipped out the iPad, logged onto Gindr, and began clean-up.  Messages that Innkeeper had started were pouring in like crazy.  I was shocked at the selections Innkeeper had made, of course, none of which I would have chosen for myself.  Innkeeper had started a conversation with a guy solely because his profile picture featured his Siamese cat, by saying "Hey, I like your cat."

I could never get drinks with a guy who was interested in cats, especially so much so that he posted a picture of the two of them on a hookup app.

I let Siamese down gently and moved on.  I could not believe the taste in men that my good friend had for me.  She had contacted anyone between the ages of 18 and 54.  I was horrified.  I did not have time to reply to each and every mistake Innkeeper had made in her attempt to find a drinking buddy, half of the people weren't even old enough to have a drink in the first place...so I just started blocking people.

As I was getting into Operation Clean Up, a total culture clash was unfolding before my eyes at the nail salon.  I became instantly distracted by what I was witnessing and almost dropped the grinding iPad into the foot bath.

A young ghetto-tastic mama was gettin' her nails did for NYE and brought her three young triplet daughters to the salon with her.  They had all been there even before my friends and I walked in, and I imagine that they had been in the salon for quite some time.  As the poor little Asian owner was painstakingly gluing individual gold studs onto the longest teal acrylics I have ever seen, the Triplets were becoming restless.

All three began incessantly begging for a snack, and each request fell on mama's oblivious deaf ears.  It did not seem as though there would be a snack in the near future for the Triplets, so they did what any bratty little 6 year old would do.  They took matters into their own hands, and quickly snatched up the sacrificial wafers that the Asian Nail Techs had placed on their makeshift shrine to Buddha at the front counter.  In an instant, the Triplets scarfed down the Buddha cookies as if they were double stuffed Oreos.

I did not know which event to be more horrified for; Innkeeper's grinding, or the awfully religious/cultural offense of eating Buddha's offering in an Asian nail salon.  I was shocked and found myself clutching for pearls.  Rarely, am I ever left speechless...but this certainly did me in.

Before long, our pedis were complete, and it was time to get on with our day.  I still hadn't found any sort of date though and was beginning to think the whole idea should just be abandoned.

We left and headed to the bar, I needed a drink.

There was a slight silver lining to letting someone else grind for me.  Innkeeper had stumbled about a guy who had an incredible striking resemblance to MSU's quarterback.  I could definitely stay in the Mitten for NYE, or even move home if it meant dating Kirk Cousin's doppelganger.

Just as I was getting into the whole "Hi, how are you, I apologize that my friend...who is a girl...hijacked  Grindr."  spiel, Innkeeper whipped out her iPhone 4s, and using the magic that is Cloud, synced the iPad's Grindr profile to her phone and started grinding away.

I was now dually grinding, not an easy feat.  Innkeeper even began grinding Kirk Counsin's lookalike as I was talking to him.

As we continued to drink and the day worn on, it was becoming obvious that dual grinding and Innkeeper's efforts were all in vain.  The damage was done, Innkeeper was having too much fun meeting guys with cats to find any real date for me.  I made sure to add Kirk Cousin's doppelganger as a favorite, just in case I find myself back in the Mitten and needing a date.

I have since returned to the south for NYE, though I don't exactly have a date here, I sure wasn't going to find one up there.  I'd have to let the dust settle before I could grind the greater East Lansing area anytime soon.  I came home to a full OkCupid and Adam4Adam inbox, so we shall see what 2012 has in store, and frankly, friends don't let friends Grind for them.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Don't Tell, I'll Ask.

With the hustle and bustle of the holiday season now upon us, I have not had a ton of time to meet people for drinks/dinners/dates.  My dating life really has taken a back seat to work and Christmas shopping.

However, last night I found myself with a completely open Friday night.  I wasn't much in the mood to sit around the house by myself, so I decided to see if Holly cared if I joined in on his usual Friday evening routine.

We started the evening at Chago's Cantina.  I've become quite fond of this establishment because for just a mere $10, I get two chicken tacos, a can of Tecate, and a shot of tequila...and usually a few more shots thrown in there too.  After a round or two of shots, Holly insisted we head over to ReBar for a bushwacker.  I've never had a bushwacker from ReBar, however, I am quite familiar with 3Crow's bushwackers...so familiar, in fact, that for my birthday I triumphantly managed to polish off six of them.

According to Holly, ReBar was not the happenin' place to be on this particular evening, so we finished our bwackers and headed over to Tribe.  Obviously, any good Friday night has an impromptu bar crawl.

We got to Tribe, grabbed a few beers, and started surveying the crowd.  Holly joined his Round Table group, and I made a few laps around the bar to see if there was anyone worth saying hello to, or getting to know.  Following one of my trips to sight see, I returned to the Round Table group and noticed a newcomer to the group who looked oddly familiar to me.

I had a feeling he was this guy I had been texting back and forth for the last month and a half or so.  He shall be referred to as Brutus because he's one of those unfortunate Buckeye fans.  Brutus and I had never actually had a chance to meet up yet.  He had just gotten out of the Army and I have been super busy with workin in the hood, but we had kept an ongoing conversation, and he had even invited me as a guest to his restaurants friends and family opening event.

I shot Brutus a text to see if it were him, and as it turns out, my suspicions were correct.  It was Brutus, and to top it off, Holly was quite familiar with him as well.  Holly and I quickly exchanged notes on how we knew him.  I simply explained that we had met online, had been chatting, but just had not had a chance to meet up for drinks yet.  Holly simply explained that Brutus has a boyfriend.

Wait, what?

By this point in the game, Brutus had rejoined the group, and Holly, being the good friend that he is, made sure that Brutus and I finally had a chance to meet.  I wasn't particularly thrilled to find out that Brutus had a boyfriend.  And to thicken the plot just a bit, his boyfriend was also at Tribe, as he is the back doorman (no pun intended).

Brutus became instantly chatty, and was even giving me a hard time for wearing a Spartan shirt.  He kept insisting that OSU is the best team in the Big Ten, and I had to keep reminding him of the game OSU is playing in today.  We struck up a conversation, basically just an in person continuation of the text conversations we had been having.  Brutus was incredibly flirty, even though his boyfriend was just a few feet away greeting patrons at the door, and all the while I was planning my attack to call him out on the secret he failed to divulge.

Believe it or not, Holly often likes to add a bit of fuel to any flame...and of course, this fire was no exception.  Holly had an opportunity to pull Brutus aside and make a bit of small talk within my ear shot.    Holly made sure to touch on key points such as Brutus' current relationship status.  Holly tipped the scales and now the flood gates were open.  I felt like Kathryn and Sebastian a la 'Cruel Intentions'.

I got myself a fresh beer and rejoined Brutus in conversation.  Once again he became quite flirty, asking about my weekend plans etc etc.  Brutus then asked which guy in the group was Holly's beau, and I mentioned it was the Homeowner.  Brutus commented that they were a cute couple, to which I quickly replied; "like you and your boyfriend."

The cat was out of the bag, and the claws were out.

In so many words I made it quite clear how I now felt about Brutus, I was no longer interested in continuing any sort of conversation or friendship, as he clearly could not be trusted.  He instantly became defensive and started backtracking.  By this point I was over all it, and my closing remark was something along the lines of; "and at the end of the day, you're a Buckeye from Ohio."

I rejoined Holly, the Homeowner, and the Round Table Crew.  Within minutes of putting an end to Brutus, my phone started blowing up with several text messages from Brutus saying how this now won't be easy to be friends, and he and his boyfriend have an agreement, and we need to make a decision as to where we will take this friendship.

Wait, what?

I thought I had made it clear, and now I was just becoming increasingly annoyed.  My annoyance had peaked so much, that when an unrelated Buckeye yelled across the room "You're a Spartan, I'm a Buckeye!"  I could only respond with "Go Fuck Yourself."  And also, why were there so many OSU fans at the bar last night?  I guess they had to go somewhere since there isn't a reason for them to be in Indy this weekend.

The rest of the night went on relatively uneventfully.  I wasn't on a mission to find confrontation, but if the situation should arise, I'm not usually one to shy away.  Don't get me wrong, I realize Brutus really does not owe me anything, and although we had not actually met yet...I at least would have appreciated the truth.  I don't care to be made a fool of, so I have become fairly proficient at quickly putting a stop to it.  I especially do not care to be made a fool of by a Buckeye, and frankly, nothing good comes from Ohio anyway.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Seeing Red.

I woke up this morning with a text message from an unfamiliar phone number,  a different phone number scribbled on a scrap of toilet paper, and the coveted Most Bejeweled 2011 trophy on the pillow next to my head.  Ladies and gentlemen, it was the weekend of the 3rd Annual Grizzlies' Red Dress Rampage, and I apparently had rampaged a bit too much.

I was a bit anxious leading up to Saturday's big event.  As the reigning Most Bejeweled 2010, the bar was set high to recapture the title.  However, since I had been finishing my outfit, rehearsing my talent, brushing up on current events, and running 18 miles a day, on about 400 calories...I was ready.  The morning started off like any other day that you'd plan to wear a red dress and run around the streets of Nashville would.

I got to the event a bit early to help the Homeowner with set up.  I, of course, did not wear my gown to go help set tents up.  The dress had been under lock and key for months and I needed to have a big reveal.  Finally, Rampagers started filling the venue, and the crowd was just as anxious to see my ensemble as I was to show it off and accept my second title.  With the help of the Grizzlies' First Lady, I slipped into my full length, long sleeved, head to toe red sequin gown, complete with a 9 foot long red sequin train and red sequin sneakers that would have even made Dorothy jealous, and a small metallic clutch to carry my phone and wallet.  I stepped out into the crowd, and as the sun rays hit each and every one of the 271,839 sequins on my person, a collective gasp of awe could be heard for miles.

My ensemble was a hit and everyone was complementing me on my over-the-top sequined-ness.  I quickly glanced around the crowd to see my competition, but even the Queen Mother had nothing on me, and surprisngly, last year's 2nd Runner Up was nowhere to be found.  Anyone would have been hard pressed to find a spare sequin in the Tri-State area on Saturday.  It was not long until my name was announced and I most graciously accepted my second, back to back, Most Bejeweled title.

Now with a beer in one hand, and my trophy in the other, I was ready to run!  The opening ceremonies were complete, and now it was time to take to the streets.  The alarm rang, and the Rampagers were off! There really isn't anything quite like running around the streets of Nashville in a red dress, and most onlookers seemed to enjoy the spectacle as we all ran by.


Dorothy, eat your heart out.  


I continued on to each stop, having plenty of beer to quench the thirst that I worked up from running under the mid-day Tennessee sun in a full length gown with a polyester lining.  At one stop, a newbie rugger who was also in a sequin-ish gown was being compared to my sequin extravaganza.  Rugger JR replied that the newbie was only a Ke$ha to my Britney.  This was the ultimate compliment.

Along the route, a few Rampagers and myself had the pleasure of crossing paths with a homeless man as we made our way down the last leg of the race.  The man seemed to be a bit confused, but even more so by a herd of strapping young men, in red dresses, running past him.  He shouted out to us and asked if we had any money that he could borrow.  Well of course I don't carry cash, and I was in a race anyway, I could not stop to talk.  He then yelled that he could be trusted because he was with Animal Control and was up to date on his shots.  I apologized for not having any cash, and as my group of Rampagers made our way off into the horizon, the homeless man began meowing at us.  In retrospect, that probably wasn't the strangest thing that had happened to me that afternoon. 

I finally made it to the last watering hole, Cabana.  I could feel my stomach bloating from all the beer I had been downing, and in my vintage size 4 gown, there was not much room for expansion.  But alas, I did not let that stop me from drinking even more.  I managed to get a few extra beer tickets here and there, but of course, when you have such a high profile title attached to your name, people are just dying to give to you free stuff...in this case...free beer.

Words cannot quite describe the spectacle that is the Red Dress afterparty.  As any title holder would do, I mingled with the crowd, chatted with friends, and made someone new friends along the way.  Everyone is just fun and fancy free, so much so that a Rampager, dressed in a tutu and red angel wings spent a few minutes upside down dancing on his hands with his feet kicking in the air in the middle of the dance floor.  Once his 10 minute long handstand was over, he danced over to the window ledge, hopped up and jumped out the window...and just so happened to land on top of the same homeless man who had once been meowing at me, but was now passed out in the ditch. 

The party came to an end, and it was time to retire my stunning red gown and get back into civilian clothes.  Besides, there was another after party to get to and a Spartan Football game to watch.  The Homeowner and I, along with several others such as Rugger JR, Homeowner's BFF, and even Holly, made our way over to Casa de la J&J to continue drinking and celebrate a successful event.

Drinking kegs of Yazoo beer dwindled on into the night and J&J were gracious enough to let me use the television in their bar to watch a glorious Spartan victory.  All in all it was a pretty fantastic day, although I still do not know whose phone numbers I had collected during the Rampage.

I do believe this has been my last year competing for the elite title of Most Bejeweled.  I've set the bar pretty high, and I know there are a few people out there gunning for my title.  I'd much rather go out at the peak of my fame than fade away into obscurity, and frankly, I'm a tough act to follow.

Follow this, bitches.

Friday, September 30, 2011

Bushwacked.

Although I don't have much of an explanation, other than the infamous 'we should see other people' text, Paratrooper and I are doing exactly that.  But fret not, friends, I did manage to get a fifth of whiskey out of the deal, so it was not a complete bust.

With that being said, I needed to get back out and collect some blog material.  I decided to meet up with a guy at 3Crow this week after my regularly scheduled margarita night.  3Crow had two-for-one drafts, and since I already had a couple-ish margaritas in me and it was a school night, I opted for the drafts instead of the infamous bushwacker.

It wasn't an actual date of sorts, it was really more of a "hey, let's meet for drinks" situation.  We grabbed seats up at the bar, ordered a round and started chatting.  The conversation was enjoyable, he's a music buff and put a great effort into convincing me of all the reasons why I needed to go to Bonaroo, I had to assure him that for the simple fact that I like to wear shoes and take showers, Bonaroo probably was not in my future any time soon.

The second round of beers came up and we were still chatting away having a fairly enjoyable time, and just like that, we were moving on to round 3.  It wasn't terribly late yet, so I figured why not just stay out a bit longer, what's the worst that could happen?

Just as round 4 was being served, and as I was in motion to take a giant sip.  My ex walked in.  Not just any ex.  This ex was from college, from sophomore year, in Michigan.  I am sitting at the Mecca to all of East Nashville's hipsters and my ex GIRLFRIEND walks into the bar.  That's correct, this particular ex is of the female variety.  We dated back in college when I was still dealing the Bi card, or perhaps the Tri card...I'd try anything once.

Before I knew it, I was choking from shock and had Bud Lite coming out of my nose.  I am sure I was quite the sight, with beer fizz burning the insides of my nostrils, my eyes tearing up, and trying to catch a breath as my ex-college girlfriend lets out an enthusiastic scream, waves, and runs over.  She and I have not really kept in touch since we broke up, on Valentine's Day, back in the dorms during sophomore year.  We are still FaceBook friends, why wouldn't we be?

Back in college she had every piece of Tiffany's 'Return To' collection imaginable and drove a Lexus.  She was definitely a spoiled Sorostitute and was the type of person who attended college for her Mrs. degree as opposed an actual field of academia.  Come to think of it, I'm fairly certain she majored in Communication.  Don't get me wrong, she was hot, questionably fake boobs and all, but I never imagined I would ever see her again, let alone in East Nashville, in 3Crow Bar of all places.  Sure enough, she remembered just who I was and gave me an almost awkwardly long, you're starting to choke me, sort of hug.

She asked how I'd been, which is always a bit difficult to answer when you haven't seen someone in about 6 years.  If she ever had partaken in the casual sport of light FaceBook stalking, surely she'd know a thing or two about the last few years of my life.  Afterall, I'm sporting a picture of myself decked out in a stunning red sequin gown.

I was still so completely shocked about even seeing her, that I completely forgot to introduce my date or even pay attention to anything she was rambling on about.  She told me she's in town for just a couple of days, sort of passing through for work.  Idly chatting with my ex seemed like it was taking forever, and not at any point in the conversation did anyone she would have come to the bar with step over to see where she had gone off to.  She seemed to go on forever about her days post-undergrad, and now that I wasn't shocked, I was losing interest.  Suddenly, in one quick breath she said "We should grab drinks, who is your friend?"

It still had no occurred to me that proper introductions had yet to be made, and to keep this night from getting any stranger, because now I was worried that she'd want to pull up a seat and stay even longer, all I could say was "Well I'm gay, and we're on a date."

I thought for sure this would throw her for a loop, no ex girlfriend wants to hear that her ex boyfriend is a homo, right?  And she must have known that she was the last girl I dated, right?

I fully expected her to be quite upset, but she cheerfully replied; "Fun!"

Well at the moment, this was probably as much fun as a one legged man in a kicking contest would be having and now I regretted not getting the bushwacker.   After a bit more idle conversation, my ex said she should probably get going but wanted to make sure that I still had her number.

Why on Earth would I still have her number?!  Being polite, I took her number and said I'd shoot her a text...which of course has yet to happen...she hugged me again, said she'd still love to get drinks, and ended the conversation with "gay, huh? so fun."

This was not so fun, more like so bizarre, and with my luck I've probably just created a new hag.  Now when it comes to dating, nothing surprises me anymore.  I just need to roll with the punches, and frankly,  I've been bushwacked.  

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Hocus Pocus.

Well I spent most of last Friday night scantly clad in a red sequin toga.  The Grizzlies threw another beer bust, this one was obviously a Toga Party.  As the reigning Most Bejeweled, and with just a month to go until I reclaim the throne for another year, I had a title to uphold, so of course I chose sequin fabric to fashion a modest toga out of.

The Paratrooper and I, both toga clad, though his was an old bed sheet from college, headed to Tribe for a night of beer busting with the rugby team.  And for inquiring minds, things are going just swell with PT, nothing official, but at this point in time, enjoying each others' company.

The night was going well.  PT was doing his own thing, mingling with people he wanted to talk to, and I was doing mine.  Unlike previous beer bust nights, I wasn't scouting the crowd for any prospects.  Although PT and I are not attached at the hip, we arrived together, and therefore would be leaving together as well.

I was making my usual rounds, and picked up Rugger JR along the way.  The routine became to drink a beer or two  and take a loop around the bar to see if there were any opportunities to see or be seen.  Of course, when in just a swatch of red sequined fabric, it's difficult to not be seen.  It didn't take many laps around the bar before offers came in for free drinks from various onlookers.  Well of course, I was obliged to accept just a couple drinks, and if it came to the point of conversation where it was time to exchange names, I gave the name of my wealthy alias; Hunter Greene.

I had a great time with PT and the rest of the team, and as the night wore on, eventually we made our way over to Play for a few more drinks.  I knew before long that PT and I should bow out gracefully, as to prevent a repeat performance of the last time we found ourselves on Play's dance floor surrounded by a sea of laser beams and dry ice smoke.  The night ended and that was that.  I couldn't believe that I had successfully made it through an entire Grizzlie night with nothing more to talk about than just a few free drinks.

The weekend passed, and I got back to the grind at my M-F job.  I had a few minutes in between meetings and home visits, so I stopped by a local coffee shop for an afternoon pick me up.  I had just received my drink and figured I could sit down for just a minute to enjoy it.  I was suddenly engrossed in sipping my "mint to bee" and crossing off the completed tasks in my agenda.  As I was x-ing through the days with a green highlighter, I suddenly got that erie prickly feeling that someone was staring at me...and sure enough, when I looked up there was a rotund, furry, creepy man with long greasy black hair and an Aeropostale graphic tee standing just inches from me.  I was caught a bit off guard and perhaps slightly confused.

All I could think to say was, "Did you need something?"

The creeper asked if I had been at Tribe for the toga party, and had I been wearing a red toga?  Of course this was true, but I wasn't really sure what would happen if I were to confirm such information.  Then I quickly recalled the couple of free drinks that I had accepted that night, and one surely did not come from him.  Completely unamused by this chance encounter, I said that I had.  He apologized for bothering me, but said I was handsome and disappointed we did not get to talking at the bar.  Personally, I was thrilled I did not notice him and/or speak with him, clearly his social skills are a bit rusty.  He then said I could check him out on Plenty of Fish if I were interested in getting to know more about him and slipped me a napkin with a screen name and telephone number written on it.

Well, I wasn't interested in chatting any more with him, but my curiosity got the best of me and I had to at least do some light dating site stalking.  Plus, it really isn't stalking if he just outright gave me the information that I needed to know.  Perhaps his profile would give me some insight as to what hotspots I need to avoid and at what times, as to not cross paths again.  I really don't like when people from previous events spot me out in public and create an incredibly awkward social situation...don't they know that's what Craigslist Missed Connections are for?!

As soon as I got a free moment I checked out the profile in question.  Turns out, my new acquaintance has 'Every day Witch' listed for his profession.  His interests include drawing, tarot, and witchcraft.  I did not even need to read any further, this guy was already a catch from the get-go.  But I was under the impression that witches were usually female, and wizards were male.  Apparently I learned nothing from my investment in both reading and watching the 'Harry Potter' series.  Scrolling even further down his page I had to take a moment to read then decipher his About Me;

"hi how r yall? Lookin round for my soulmate. I kno i mite not find him here, but worth a shot. Im a down to earth, fun loving guy lookin for same. I kno how to have a good time, and i kno how to be serious wen need be. the guy who liks the same things i do wuld be good to.  practic witchcraft so if thats is a problem dont bother. Hope to hear from yall :D" 

The incredibly horrific spelling grated my last nerve, and I'm really not one to take interest in the dark arts.  If I ever need a witchcraft fix I'll just watch my favorite dark arts movie...'Hocus Pocus'.   I thought it was odd though, that an every day witch could not just conjure up an every day spell to help correct his every day spelling and word use.

How do these sorts of people find me?  Whatever it is I do that attracts the weirdest of the weird, I need to figure it out and discontinue it ASAP.  But now I am on The Witch's radar, and I sure hope he did not have time to cast a quick spell on me before he walked out of the coffee shop.  Before I could even log out of the site he had sent me a quick little note just to say hi.

"hi man, seen that u had lokked up my page.  what r yu into? i'm a fun loving guy looking for the same. avrage build, 510'' 285 brown hair.   ever have ur tarot read? i do those. maybe we can meet up soon.  we probablt have alot in comon.  moives r aweful for first datees. Too loud. I would like a nice dinner then a walk on the beach   get back to me"

I should have left well enough alone, and not even bothered looking up his profile.  Sadly, I have to pass at the offer to have my tarot read to me on the beach by an overweight every day witch, which by the way, 285 lbs is not an average build unless you are an every day football player.  There is no way this was a match made by the stars; I don't feel as though we have anything in common.  I enjoy proper spelling, grammar, and leading a normal muggle life style, and frankly, the male witch did NOT even have a pair of ruby slippers.  
  

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Team Spirit.

This post took a bit of time to write up, there were a few logistics that needed to be worked out.  But fret not, I am back after yet another brief hiatus.  Dating while living in an attic is not always as glamorous as everyone thinks, it can't always be nonstop excitement, and good things take time, afterall, Rome wasn't built in a day.

This particular tale dates back a couple of weeks, to a far off and enchanted place known as Tribe, during the Grizzlies' Beer Bust and Recruitment.

All of the usual suspects were in attendance; Homeowner, Holly, Homeowner's BFF, Rugger JR etc, and the night was shaping up as most Grizzlie nights do.  The beer was flowing, and I was enjoying plenty of it.  As the other Ruggers were all busy recruiting new team and auxiliary members, Rugger JR and I were busy recruiting for our own teams.  Rugger JR was expecting a special guest, and I was just surveying the crowd.  Before long, Rugger JR's guest showed up, and I'm not much of a wing-man anyway, so I left them to chat amongst themselves, and I ventured out on my own.

As per usual the crowd is filled with people I'm not interested in chatting with online, so I sure don't make it a point to chat with them in public.  Prospects for team And Frankly were not looking too hot.  I thought for sure that I would just have to resign myself to a consistently full glass of beer and gossiping with Holly.

Eventually one of the other Ruggers, who has not yet been mentioned in a post, but shall be known as Paratrooper...or PT for short, showed up.  For no other reason, he is nicknamed after his profession...he parachutes out of planes for a living.  I have known PT for quite some time, and have always enjoyed seeing him out and about at parties and Grizzlie functions.  For just about as long as I've known PT, he's never been on the market, but could not help but having the slightest crush on him for a bit.  I didn't really know him on a completely deep and serious level, but I was definitely up for getting to know more.  Plus, he is tall, dark, and handsome...a definite home run.  But, for the past several months, PT was dating another Rugger, and I knew to leave well enough alone.

Although I aim to get what I want, and as I've said before, Jesus loves a winner, I am not a meddler or a homewrecker.  In the case of PT, I simply played the hand I was dealt and let the chips fall into place.  Although this could be a challenge, and I'd hate for a perfectly good opportunity to slip by.

On this particular night I learned that PT was newly single.  Prospects for my team looked instantly better.  In my state of semi-buzzed, beer consuming euphoria, I semi-jokingly but perhaps a bit seriously as well, made mentions to Holly and Rugger JR that PT was now a free agent...I wanted him on my team, and my sights were set.  However, in the back of my mind I made sure to tread lightly, I didn't want people to think I was prying on the weak and vulnerable.

PT and I began drinking together and chatting and chatting and chatting.  I was not really expecting much, as he is just weeks out of a relationship and I don't care to be a rebound.  My feelings would not have been hurt if PT had no interest whatsoever, but I'm a go getter and had to test the waters.  He expressed a slight mutual interest, but said he probably wouldn't be ready for much of anything for at least a week.  I figured I could wait one more week, afterall, I had waited just about a year as it was.  I made sure not to come on too strong and periodically left the conversation to make a few laps around the bar, as well as to refill my beer.  However, undeniably, and beer-buzz aside, the chemistry was apparent.

Eventually the other Grizzlies had determined that they had done all they could as far as recruiting and beer busting, so it was time to move the festivities next door to Play for a good ole fashioned drag show. After a few entertaining acts by the Playmates, I decided I was more in the mood to dance.  Rugger JR and his guest were hitting it off and making their way to the dance floor as well, so I figured I'd invite PT along too and we could have one big dance party amongst a sea of laser beams and dry ice clouds.

Before anyone could even make it out onto the dance floor, Rugger JR and his guest veered off in one direction, and PT and I veered the opposite way and continued bits and pieces of our conversation in the dark hallway leading to the laser beam lit dance arena.  PT said he'd love to go on a dinner date with me, but as he said before, he needed at least a week.  I reaffirmed to myself that I could wait a mere seven days if need be, but for now I needed to dance.  And drink.  Suddenly, before I knew what was happening, PT and I were making out in a dimly lit hallway like sexually active band geeks under the bleachers at the homecoming football game.

Ruggers had wandered off to.

PT and I danced for a bit, drank a bit more, and then left the dance floor.  We were on the opposite side of the bar, outside the bathrooms furthering the conversation that had now been hours, several beers, and a fierce make out session in the making and suddenly several of the Ruggers surfaced and had been witness to the evening's debauchery.  Surely, I would be the talk of the town by sunrise.

Finally the night was drawing to a close, and it was time that PT and I parted ways.  I started the night with no prospects of anything whatsoever and now had date plans with a guy who wasn't even on my radar up until a few beers ago.

By the following morning, Homeowner was already abreast of the previous night's festivities.  I was right, I was the talk of the town by sunrise.  Homeowner also finds my track record with Ruggers, especially those who live in Clarksville, to be quite amusing...I guess I can just check another off the list.  I needed to check in with Rugger JR to get his opinion on the situation, as he, aside from PT, was the only other one around for most of it.  We both agreed there was no harm, so no foul.  We are all adults in this situation, and responsible for our own actions, and frankly, I only play in the big leagues.  

  



    



    

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Real Housewives of T4.0

This past weekend I had the pleasure of attending one of the premiere social events Nashville has seen in years.  It was the Homeowner's much anticipated and highly publicized birthday bash!

My party shirt and turquoise shorts were ready to go.

Due to circumstances beyond anyone's control, the Homeowner's BFF and I, along with an infamous McDonald's toy known as Pat Grant, played host to the party for a couple of hours.  Things were going rather smoothly.  But now I know how Oprah's minions must feel at her Legends Ball...they play host until she feels like making a brief appearance, in this case the BFF is clearly Gayle and I'm stuck being Stedman.  Since I didn't feel comfortable speaking without my lawyer present, I left most of the talking up to the Homeowner's BFF while I entertained a couple of friends who were in town from Kansas City, as well as another friend of the Homeowner's who is a fellow Michigander.

The previous evening's events lead one of the KC-ers to be nicknamed 'Lisa', though I am not quite sure how that came about.  We were actually at a White Trash Pool Party, and her costume gave her a striking resemblance to Roseanne, but I guess that's neither here nor there.  Michigander is nicknamed Holly, which is another story for another day, and Lisa's sidekick just can be Lisa's Sidekick.  And before long we were joined by Rugger JR.  Homeower DOES NOT like when Rugger JR and I are together, mostly because we become an unstoppable rebel force of judgemental bitchass awesomeness, which is pretty damn hilarious for those around us.

So there we sat, in the sweltering heat, on the patio of Suzy Wong's snacking on pot stickers and cold beer.  I thought it was a rather enjoyable time, and since Lisa and her sidekick were from out of town, I was doing my best at giving them my non-judgemental rundown of all of the party guests who were showing up.  The guest list included a couple of ghosts from my dating past, with invitees such as The Detective, Most Bejeweled Runner Up, and a few of those who were looking to be Just Friends.  I'm usually an agreeable person, and rarely have anything bad to speak of others, but occasionally it slips out every now and then, and Lisa had to know about the obstacles I've overcome in my dating life.  Luckily, I was making it through the afternoon relatively unscathed, and of course, being the gracious pseudo host in the face of adversity that I am, I kept a smile on my face.  I by no means had any intent of causing a scene at the Homeowner's Birthday Bash.

It wasn't long until the Homeowner showed up and and could take over his guest of honor/host duties, and then I was free to drink up and mingle with all the other guests.  The patio snack portion of the party was soon drawing to a close, and I had actually not seen a single person that I needed to blatantly avoid...this would be a rare occurrence, since most of the time I can barely walk into a bar without a handful of creeps on my case.  Surely enough, my luck was about to run out...

I went to the bar for a refill, and turned around to see someone who has the honor of holding the title for the worst date I have ever been on, without a doubt, ever.  The date in question was quite miserable and not even blog worthy...just absolutely terrible.  Months ago, when the date had taken place, I had made it quite clear that I was not interested in anything whatsoever.  I wanted to go my way, and he was to do the same and that would be the end of it.  Months had passed without any form of communication, which was perfect for me...until the birthday bash.  I was horrified.

I managed to muster up my best fake smile along with a simple head nod.  I did not feel as though much more would be needed and I surely was not in the mood to talk with him.  Of course things are never that easy for me, and suddenly he tried to pull me close and strike up a friendly convo.  Lisa, Sidekick, BFF, Homeowner, Rugger JR, or any of my other friends who could pull me out of bind on a moment's notice were no where to be found.  Was I being punked?

The Worst was beyond trashed, which was just how I left him on our terrible, horrible, no good date...so clearly not much had changed for him.  With his hand on my back and a series of slurred drunken words, I was becoming quite uncomfortable.  He asked how I was and said how much he had been missing me...I however, had not felt the same.  Once again I told him that I thought it best for me to be on my way and I really had no more to say to him.  Apparently he took this as a sign of affection and tried to lean in, tongue out, for what would probably have been the world's most disgusting, sloppiest kiss...my lightning like reflexes kicked in and I was able to quickly turn away and slide a hand up between me and the fish-esque puckered lips that were headed my way.

The Worst said all I had to do was tell him to leave me alone, and he would.  All I could think was that I had told him this several times, the most recent being just moments before his tongue came at me.  I couldn't handle this with just the beer I had been drinking...I needed liquor and a quick escape route.  Now I was thinking how foolish I had been for wearing flip flops to the party, as now I could not use the excuse that I had cut my foot earlier and my shoe was filling up with blood.  I somewhat forcefully removed his hand from my back, said I should be going, asked never to be spoken to again, and left the patio party.  Showtunes was about to start and my inner Teresa Guidice was about to kick in...anymore of this painfully awkward interaction, and more than just a high top table would have been flipped.

I was finally reunited with Lisa, Sidekick, Holly, and Rugger JR who were too caught up in the World Cup to help a brother out in his time of need.  It was now time to move the party to Showtunes, and I needed a drink stat.

Beer was flowing, showtunes were being belted out, and I was once again having a great time.  It had been about an hour or so since I last saw The Worst, and I was hoping for his sake, as well as mine, that he had bowed out and left the vicinity.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him again.  Standing at the corner of the bar in the midst of the party guests, with the same drunken dopey look on his face, staring straight at me.  Son of a B, there was just no escaping this tragic mess.  I needed to do a bit of damage control and quickly informed Lisa, Sidekick, BFF, Rugger JR, and even the Homeowner of the situation I was in.  They all assured me I had nothing to worry about, and BFF said all I had to do was stand by him and the crisis would be adverted.  Once again, luck was not in my favor and before I knew it, The Worst was striking up conversation as to why I was avoiding him.  This was like the Twilight Zone, had I not, just an hour ago, explained how I wasn't interested in anything...not even a simple conversation at the bar.  This guy must seriously have the memory of a goldfish.

I once again asserted that I thought it best to just be left alone.  I was at my roomate's birthday party, with a ton of friends, and I had better things to do than talk to The Worst.  Lisa quickly caught on and managed to step in and take over the conversation as Sidekick pulled me away to sing along to either 'Part of Your World' or 'One Night Only', I can't remember which, as those details were a bit fuzzy.    

If worse were come to wore, Lisa could thankfully be a cock block, and Sidekick could be a hot trick I was interested in, this would be a great scene to ditch The Worst.  As far as I knew, Lisa completely dissolved the situation, with what I imagine to be the same class and tact that I, myself, possess.  Perhaps now the birthday festivities could carry on.  I've already been made a fool of at a birthday party with the whole Detective debacle, I sure did not need it to happen again.  I thought for sure we would now be able to part ways once and for all.  

Things carried on as planned; I was now free and clear of The Worst, mingling with friends and praising Lisa for her good deeds.  Everyone was having a fantastic time.  Throughout the evening, party guests were showering the Homeowner with cards, and it was my duty, as any good roomate would, to make sure they made it to my vehicle safely to be transported back to the house.  I had just taken a stack of cards to my car and was minding my own business when I was once again encountered by The Worst.  I was heading back into the bar and he was exiting.

This time, I was completely on my own, in the middle of the parking lot.  FML.  The Worst started to put on a routine consisting of puppy dog eyes and a series of if's, and's, or but's.  I was completely over this.  I could do no more to politely excuse myself from the situation.  The Worst had ruined one of my nights, many months ago, he was not about to do it again at the Homeowner's soiree.  Out of left field, The Worst asked; "So where does this leave us?"

US??  US?!  US!!

There certainly is not an 'us', nor has there ever been, or ever will be.  I was beyond enraged, what more could I possibly do to drive the point home??  I'm not interested.

I suddenly flew into a tirade.  I explained how he had a chance and totally jacked it up by being a complete and utter douche-nozzle.  From this point on, I wanted nothing to do with him.  Ever.  I never want to look across a room and see his stupid ass face again.  He had embarrassed me sufficiently enough for a lifetime and I needed no more.  There would never be an 'us', and even as far as acquaintances go...he does not make the list.  My voice was getting louder and my hands were flailing, in what I'm sure was quite the spectacle to any onlookers.

As it just so happens, we were perfectly aligned in front of the bar's back doors...which are all glass.  Just feet from the doors were tables of party guests, including the Homeowner, among others.  Everyone now had a front row seat to a scene that would have fit seamlessly into an episode of any of the Real Housewives.  I continued my verbal assault for what seemed like hours, all the while The Worst acted like we were starcrossed lovers.  I threw out every cuss word I could think of, and probably a few I made up as I went.  I was hot, bothered, and pissed off.  In all honesty, I was half expecting to be punched in the face, I probably would have punched myself too...I was ruthless.  We both just needed to be put out of our misery.  

Just as things were getting heated and as all of Hades were moments from breaking loose, The Homeowner rushed to my side and loudly explained that I was desperately needed inside for something very important.  This was a bridge that needed to be burned, and all ties cut.  I gave a few choice parting words to The Worst and went to join the rest of the party, and frankly if you think I'm a bitch, then bring it on.    

    

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Inner Beauty.

After another brief hiatus, I am back with a tale from the attic.  I have refrained from posting many of the emails I have received lately, mostly because I don't want my blog to become like a book that could easily sit on the shelf next to 'Other People's Rejection Letters'.  However, surprisingly, I found myself on a very casual spur of the moment dinner date a few days ago.

I use the term 'date' loosely, because it really was not a date with romantic intentions, but rather out to dinner to get to know one another.  Regardless of what we're calling it, I was treated to dinner and it was slightly blog worthy.

I arrived to my all time favorite, ultra hip and trendy patio, Las Maracas and quickly ordered a round of margaritas.  Any good 'date' needs a round of margs from Las Ma.  It was slightly a blind date in that I had never actually met this fella before in person, but we sort of run in the same group of friends and had been FB chatting for awhile.  I figured we could just meet at the restaurant, that way we would both have our vehicles handy if a quick escape were necessary.  I started sipping on my marg and waited.  Luckily for him, he didn't keep me waiting too long.  I have a dinner date rule; if I'm finished with a drink before you show up, all bets are off.  However this was not the case and we quickly dove into conversation.

It turns out my date had ultimately recognized me from last October's Grizzlies' Red Dress Rampage.  Now don't get me wrong, as the reigning Most Bejeweled 2010, I very much enjoy being recognized by my legions of fans.  I have a title and a reputation to uphold in this community.  However, my date had recognized me because he believed that he was robbed of the Most Bejeweled title.  I was caught completely off guard, and after only 1.5 margaritas, I surely was not ready for such a heavy conversation topic, especially one in which I had to defend a prestigious award that I had worked very hard for and won by clearly, a landslide.  My date will actually be referred to as Jelly, because I believe he is incredibly jealous of my title and just has not been able to let it go.

At first I thought he was joking, but with all joking aside, I do believe that Jelly was becoming a bit upset that I can proudly display my trophy on the living room mantle, and he has nothing to show for being 2nd runner up (at best).  Jelly even went so far as to say that I should have been disqualified from the category because my devastatingly, stunning, full length, red sequin, size 4 gown was not completely zipped up the back.  As soon as he uttered such harsh words, I just about spit my drink out.  Up until now everyone has been happy for me being Most Bejeweled, and if they haven't, they've done a damn good job of hiding it.

Somehow, no matter how many times I tried to divert the conversation, we came back to the topic of the Red Dress Rampage.  The conversation wasn't tense, at least not for me, but rather just slightly awkward.  I just continued to enjoy the sights, sounds, and drinks of my favorite patio.  A few more drinks into the night and I was beginning to think that we had perhaps reached a truce.  Clearly, Jelly just had some pent up frustrations, and he was finally given the chance to vent.  But just for a side note; I DO NOT recall seeing his red dress, so therefore it really must not have been worthy of such a prestigious title.

Dinner was coming to an end, and I figured we might just part ways until this year's Red Dress Rampage, where I no doubt, will recapture the title, but Jelly mentioned he had to make a quick appearance at a friend's birthday party downtown, and I was welcome to join.  The selling point was the mention of free drinks.  I'm always up for a party that includes free drinks!

I figured, what the hell...and tagged along for the ride.  We got to the party, and met a couple of Jelly's friends...and lucky for me, I actually knew a few people at the party as well, so I wasn't completely a fish out of water.  Unlike any other birthday party that I have ever been to, this one had various drag performances.  Soon, a rather large and rotund drag queen took the stage decked out in a red glittery dress.  Jelly quickly made mention that the queen was able to zip her dress all the way up the back, and I should ask to borrow it from her for October.  I replied that even on my heaviest days I only weigh 150 pounds, which would be about 1/8 of the drag queen...or the equivalent of her left thigh.  I then went on to explain that a rather over sized dress would be a tent on me and look worse than my stunning gown, regardless of how high it zipped up the back.    

Jelly took no time to reply that he did not see me for my physical size, which is a slim, runner's build with tight abs in progress, but rather he saw the weight of my spirit...which is apparently a 400 pound drag queen.  Fantastic.  This was like reverse "Shallow Hal".  I did not foresee the night going up much from there, so like any title holder would do, I graciously bowed out for the evening.  On the way home I got to thinking; am I really not the good looking, all American, boy next door that I picture myself as...but rather a big mama of a drag queen in red glitter??  Maybe that is why I am still single and living in an attic.  I have a completely skewed perception of reality, and I am not in touch with my inner beauty.  Or perhaps Jelly really just is jealous...not everyone can be Most Bejeweled 2010, and frankly, I am sorry that he is jealous of me, but I can't help it that I'm meant to be Most Bejeweled.    

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Off To The Races.

I apologize for my absence, I was experiencing a bit of writer's block...well it was really a bit more of a dry spell.  My dating life, or lack thereof, had started to flatline without any excitement in sight.  My Pretty Woman-esque proposition topped off at $1600, and it has been awhile since I've brought a grown man to tears, so clearly I've not had much else to talk about.

I was beginning to worry that my blog, like my dating life, was teetering on the verge of becoming stagnant and forgotten about.  And then there was Steeplechase.

This past weekend marked the 70th running of the Iroquois Steeplechase.  Of course, I had my paisley print shirt and tricked out hat ready to go.  Any event that is geared toward preppy, pretentious people who are clad in pastel, paisley, and plaid (try saying that 3 times fast) sipping on Mint Juleps is right up my alley.  Surely, if not a Spartan Football game, this would be the prime setting to meet my future ex.

To get a few things straight; Steeplechase is not so much about the actual horse race, but instead more of a venue to get drunk and people watch.  Along with people watching comes checking out attractive guys who look as though they stepped out of the pages of a J.Crew catalog...my cup of tea.  The fine group of folks I was hanging out with were much more into the drinking and people watching aspect of the day, and I am fairly convinced that most of them were completely unaware of the actual horse race that was also taking place.  Imagine Steeplechase as being more of a male meat market with horses in the background, than an actual sporting event.  Picking out the homos or those questioning their sexuality really is not all the difficult at such an event.  Not all men are chomping at the bit to dress in colors of those found on an Easter egg.  And truth be told, I may or may not have struck up a casual conversation with multiple gentleman in Easter egg colors as I was waiting in line for the porta-potty.

The day continued on, and while I was having a grand time judging people from afar...no one really spiked my interest enough worth approaching.  I made a few laps around the grounds, sipped my Mint Juleps courtesy of a certain Mr. B, and mostly kept to myself.  Of course the Cacophony of Gays I was with provided enough entertainment on their own, so I really did not have to work too hard to have an enjoyable time.  I always had a drink in my hand and plenty of eye candy to gawk at, what more could I ask for?        

It was not until after race day had ended and I returned home did any action result from Steeplechase.  I received the following email from someone who allegedly spotted me.

"Hi I think I seen you on saturday at steeple chase.  I am a very nice person and yes I LOVE guys. I am short and feisty but only when I need to be and I am not looking for a hook up so don't expect anything like that from me. I know I ain't the pertiest thing or do I have abbs but I am very sweet and kind and have a huge heart. I like guys with muscles and are tall but not a requirement. Just be compassionate and thoughtful and we'll get along. Don't typically like guys over 35 unless ur rich...and don't like guys heavier than me. fat that is."    


Of course I had to check out his profile, perhaps maybe I spotted him as well.  He very well could have been one of the strapping lads of the 5'11"-6'2", 20-something year old, dark hair, dark eyed variety that I had made a mental note of.  If that were the case, I could probably do my best to overlook the glaringly obvious typos that littered his shallow email.  My hopes and fantasies were suddenly crushed to bits as soon as I got a look at his stats.  Of course he was NOT one of the strapping lads I had noticed from Steeplechase.  Instead he was 19...5'5"...and 215 lbs.  In my opinion, Weebles are more height/weight proportionate than this kid...and a Weeble was exactly what I was picturing.  I actually didn't recall seeing him at all, and apparently my Weeble repellent was not working that day.

I politely replied that he was a bit too...young (among other things)...for me.  He then said:

"Are you rich, becuase people who have money go there.  Want to hang with you sometime if ur cool with it cuz you looked real hot"

I was quite flattered that he assumed I must be rich, and noticed that I looked hot.  However, I was really not interested in furthering the conversation, and I'm actually not cool with hanging.  It's just my luck that a J.Crew model did not spot me at Steeplechase, but instead the complete opposite had.  With summer quickly approaching, I need to figure out how to catch the attention of the J.Crew type while completely avoiding the Weeble type, and frankly, I'm screwed if Weebles wobble but they don't fall down.    

 


 

 

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

King Of Wishful Thinking

Just when I thought my dating life, or lack thereof, couldn't get any stranger, I find myself in middle of a 'Pretty Woman' remake.  This evening I was greeted with this gem of an email;


"I know this is lame but...my high school reunion is coming up and I'm trying to find a date for it. Not looking for sex just a nice looking guy to be my date and pose as my bf for the reunion. I'm willing to pay for your time and expenses for the reunion."


This totally sounds like the basic plot line of the popular Julia Roberts and Richard Gere blockbuster, however his Edward to my Vivian was not a tall, handsome, and charming man, but rather a rotund, squatty, troll who probably is the proud owner of more than one cat.  


I wasn't even sure how to process such a strange request, but apparently I come across as an escort. I tactfully replied with although I was flattered, I wouldn't feel comfortable in this situation. He replied with; 


"it wouldnt be intense..and not alot of questions....just don't want to show up single....."


As fun as it would be to act as someone's fake boyfriend in front of their high school class, which by the way, I wasn't even in middle school yet when he was graduating high school, I think I would have to pass on this enticing offer. But curiosity had gotten the best of me, and I couldn't help but wonder why he choose to email me, completely randomly, out of everyone else.


"just went through the site and picked a few guys that looked like normal guys....that fit some stats (white, at least as tall as me, top(just because tops tend to be more masculine), and had a preppy look about them). you are one of my top pics...."


Well I was glad I made the cut out of such an intense and scrutinizing selection process. I guess it was the same luck that Vivian had that by chance she happened to be standing out on that street corner in a sea of other hookers.


"totally promise to make it worth your time..... :) no sex unless you want it....i just need a nice date for the reunion....it'll be an overnight trip...we'll spend the night in a hotel.....i'll pay for everything....or might give you the cash and let you pay for it...ya know let you be the gentleman lol"


Maybe I could even get a shopping spree of out this, and I'd kill for the chance to tell a snobby commissioned saleslady that she had made a HUGE mistake.  


Not really wanting to go much further, as it was already strange enough, I said it wouldn't be appropriate to act as a boyfriend so classmates would think you got the younger, incredibly good looking guy.


"well i dont want to show up single to my high school reunion. i'm single right now.....i really don't associate with anyone from high school but in high school i was the outcast....the one that was picked on and tormented.....i'd like to be seen as successful and happy and with a boyfriend that's hot and successful.....and i'm willing to pay to make sure that happens lol was thinking the base would be 500 and then have extras that if done would earn more money...with a Max amt set. there would be a test meeting one weekend so I could make certain you're what I'm looking for. you'd be compensated for that. and the details if the reunion would be worked out then"


What kind of deal is this?? He only offered $500...Vivian made $3000, and that was back in 1990. I figure with inflation, the figure should be a bit higher. Apparently when it comes to dating, I can only do so well as to be a low end escort for some guy to feel better about himself at his high school reunion. I had to decline this offer, pretending to be a boyfriend does not seem all that appealing to me, and frankly, I'd only tag along to a reunion if I am able to say that I invented Post-Its.






Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Collateral Damage.

Saturday morning rolled around, and surprisingly, I was not hungover.  I quickly rolled out of bed and scrolled through my phone to take a quick glance at any damage that may or may not have been done through the course of my impromptu speeding date.  Luckily, all I could find were some off the wall texts to the BFF back home and a couple of new phone numbers.  Nothing that could not be easily taken care of with the quick use of the ever so handy delete function.  No one from the night before made that great of an impression on me, so damage control only took a couple of seconds.

I couldn't spend too much time fretting about events from the previous night, I had met a few new people, crossed a few off the list, and got started with the day.

Saturday afternoon was just another day at work, and when closing time finally rolled around, I was ready to punch out and head over to Alex's birthday soiree.  The party was full of the usual suspects; some Grizzles, the Homeowner, Vacation Jake...just to name a few.  Once again, I was mingling with everyone, and I was getting a bit of a late start...most of these fools had been drinking all afternoon.  I needed to catch up asap.

My cup stayed full of beer and even added a few jello shots to the mix.  Next thing I knew, I was in the middle of a fierce flip-cup competition, however we weren't using normal, regulation size Solo cups.  We were playing with plastic Dixie cups, the kind you get mouthwash in at the dentist.  Nothing like a quick shot of beer!  With a flip-cup winning streak about a mile long, and cycling through opposing team members like they were going out of style, how could anything go wrong?

A fresh batch of opponents stepped up to the counter to take on my team, and suddenly I was face to face with someone I tried to avoid for the past few months.  I won't name any nicknames, as to protect the innocent, and perhaps not so innocent in this case, but it's someone I actually was very interested in and thought I did a pretty damn good job of moving past.  Holding no ill-will or animosity, I cordially took on my new foe and following suit, we defeated that team as well.

By this point I had had enough shots of beer, and in the world of flip-cup, it is always best to go out on top.  I bowed out of the competition and tried to rejoin the party.  Just when I thought I was in the clear, The Past had come to strike up a conversation.

I remained cordial and we covered the basics; how are you, what are you up to, it's been awhile etc etc.  I really did not see the point of diving too deeply into a profound conversation, after all, he made it clear that he did not have time for me, he even deleted me on FaceBook, and I had cut my losses months ago.  Suddenly, the cordial conversation took a drastic turn, and apparently it became my fault that The Past and I had not spoken in months.

Completely caught off guard by where any of this was coming from, we shuffled from the middle of the party action and into the hallway, as to not become the center of attention.   I felt like the conversation was just going in circles.  I wasn't trying to make amends and see what spark could be rekindled, I was fine with the clean and clear cut, we could chat here and there if we were to run into each other at the bar or a party, but things did not need to be much deeper than that.

I politely excused myself from the chit-chat for just a moment to use the restroom.  I am still not too certain as to was actually happened during the 36 seconds it took me to pee, but when I came out of the bathroom, The Past was crying, and these were no alligator tears.

All I could think was...WTF.

There was no turning back now.  Obviously something had happened, though I do not think I am to blame for the sudden show of waterworks.  It's hard to be discrete at a party when somebody starts crying, and now I was looking like the bad guy.  All The Past could tell me was that I could not even begin to understand his life before he had met me.  However, I could say the same to him, but without crying about it.  By this point, I'm sure people's curiosities were peaked, and there was not much I could do to remedy the situation.

All I could do was walk away.  No good would come from this, and to prevent myself or The Past from looking like a complete idiot at someone else's birthday party, I would have to be the one to leave.  I said good-byes to the birthday boy and the remaining guests before heading home for the night.  I guess the combination of alcohol and my heart breaker tendencies is just too much for some people to bear.  It was just another strange night to add to my list of many, and frankly, the damage is done.      

Monday, March 28, 2011

It's Raining Men.

Working two jobs has kept me plenty busy over the past couple of weeks, and with an all time shortage of potential dates, there has not been much to do and/or blog about.  However, this weekend has provided quite the wealth of blog-worthy material.

Friday evening was the Grizzlies' Bachelor Auction.  From the name alone, the evening was sure to be interesting, and it sure wasn't a Grundy County Auction.  To preface the evening's events, apparently any half-way decent match I had spoken with online over the course of the last couple of months had decided they were all going to show up at the bar.  From the get go, my phone was blowing up with messages from various people asking my whereabouts.  As to not be bombarded all at once with a gaggle of gays after me, I just simply replied that I was mingling around the bar and wearing a Grizzlies t-shirt.

My first encounter was with someone who I am pretty sure was on something serious.  I actually hadn't ever chatted with this guy...that I know of...but he said I looked familiar.  With his glazed over eyes and slightly slurred speech, his relatively handsome looks were quickly over shadowed.  I was neither as drunk or high as this dude was, and the night hadn't even really started yet...it was only about 9:15.  With nothing to chat about, I excused myself and found some Ruggers to talk with.  A few beers down, and about 20 minutes later, I needed to use the rest room.  As I was approaching the bathroom door, High-Guy comes stumbling out, almost as though he was ejected from the bathroom.  When I first ran into him he was fully dressed, but as he flew across the bar, he was now missing his shirt, shoes, and his pants were unbuttoned and unzipped.  I try to make it a point to not be with people who end up in such a state of undress at the bar...before 10.  We had one more brief conversation as I was pissing at the urinal, and it seemed as though it took all of his remaining sober strength to keep himself propped up against the wall. The conversation ended with me asking him to please not vomit all over me.

The night started to get fully underway and it was time for some Grizzlies to be auctioned off.  Of course I was not about to bid on any of them, I've had some for free...there wasn't any need to pay.  

As time passed, I was running into a couple of people that I may or may not have expressed some sort of interest via online dating sites, and many of those I hadn't expressed any form of interest at all.  I'd chat with someone for a bit and move on to mingle with the crowd.  I was careful not to accept drinks from anyone because that would have meant I would have to chat longer than I may have wanted, and would have possibly had to return the favor.  However, I collected 3 phone numbers, and managed to not give mine out at all.

The auction was over and I had had my fill of $2 beers and lousy conversation.  Mingling around the bar had turned into speed dating of sorts, which I have now become somewhat professional at.  I had a great time at the bar, and just when I thought my dating life was becoming a bit lame and in the middle of a drought, the flood gates were bursting open.  Friday night was just the first drop in the downpour of excitement to come for the rest of the weekend, and frankly, when it rains; it pours.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Just Friends.

After an incredible time at the Brad Paisley concert, which was in a suite no less, and a couple of weeks worth of dates at Flying Saucer, Las Maracas, Drag Bingo, Showtunes, and 12 South Tap Room, things came to an end before anything really got started.

Before I get too ahead of myself, let me rewind a bit.

The Brad Paisley show was great, he and Darius Rucker put on a fantastic concert.  I was greatly amused when Darius decided to bust out some old school Hootie and the group of 16 year olds who were also in our suite had no idea, whatsoever, what was going on.  Kids these days just have no appreciation for some of the finer things in life I suppose.  Since the concert, the boy and I have spent a bit of time together, hanging out at various eateries and watering holes around town.  He even started taking a liking to my friends, and them to him.  Nothing incredibly exciting was happening, more so going along at a casual dating pace...and to be honest, I never really understood what 'casual dating' actually means anyway.

About a week ago I took advantage of the Living Social deal, two movie tickets for $9...how could I pass that up?  The boy mentioned an interest in Red Riding Hood, and I didn't think it looked terrible either, so I figured I'd get the deal and use it for date night to see the movie.  Even if the movie did end up completely sucking, at least it only cost a fraction of what an actual movie ticket costs.

A week's time passes and still continuing to hang out with the boy, and eventually movie date night gets here.  I woke up yesterday morning, went for my daily run, went to work, ran a few errands, all the while not hearing from the boy.  I just figured he was busy with work of his own, and we'd get in touch sometime in the afternoon.  We had made plans to see the movie earlier in the week, and I knew roughly what time he'd be out of work, so I went ahead and used my sweet deal on movie tickets for an evening showing.  

At some point in the afternoon I was finally able to touch base with the boy.  We briefly chatted about our day's events up that point and then he dropped the bomb:

'Hey, can we chat about something real quick?'

Uh huh.  I suddenly had a feeling where this was about to go.  I'm not one to sugar coat things at all, so I wanted him to get to the point ASAP.  Per the usual, he began saying "Well I want you to know that I think you're a wonderful guy...."

Stop right there.  If you thought I were so incredibly wonderful, we would not be having this conversation.

He proceeded to tell me how much he enjoyed all the time we've been spending together and blah, blah, blah.  I really just needed him to cut to the chase.  Buttering me up first wasn't going to win any points.  And of course he said he would still love to be my friend, because he still enjoys my company, and I'm still so great blah, blah blah etc. etc. etc.  It was the typical "let's just be friends" conversation.  Probably one of the worst conversations ever in my opinion.  To top off this spectacular conversation, he added that we should not hang out that evening.

Fantastic!  Now I have 2 movie tickets to go see a movie...by myself.

Before closing our conversation he asked if I would give him a call today, or perhaps even Sunday and we could get together.  My only reply was "I'm busy."

I quickly needed to do some damage control, I sure did not want the movie tickets to go to waste.  I gave my single friend A-Lo a ring, I knew she'd be up for a date night with me.  Who could pass up the chance for a dinner and a movie with a semi-attractive and decent guy?....well don't answer that, because apparently quite a few people have had no problem passing the chance up....

A-Lo and I enjoyed Las Maracas for dinner, and the movie did end up sucking.  Big time.  We ended up having a good time though, which is usually the case when the two of us get together.

Vacation Jake says I need to find someone who can keep up with me, but that's a tall order to fill...I tend to live in the fast lane.  I guess this is just one more loss for me to cut.  Just being friends rarely works in my opinion.  Somehow a certain awkwardness develops in the course of trying to date then transitioning to being friends...though there have been some exceptions to the rule.  I'm busy this weekend with work and my other friends and in just a few days my BFF will be visiting from home anyway, so now I don't think I will have much time to spend with my new found friend, and frankly, I'm not really in the market for new friends anyway.      

 

Friday, February 25, 2011

Bingo!

Although Valentine's Day was a complete bust, and I've actually not spoken to Rhoda since that wonderful holiday, I have since moved onto bigger and better things.  The past week and a half have actually been quite exciting.

Let me rewind just a bit...

After VDay I was geared up and ready for my regular Tuesday night activity....Drag Bingo/Taco Tuesday at Mad Donna's.  ALo, JHett, and TriSarahTops were all unavailable to attend with me, and my evening fun was beginning to look a bit weak.  I needed to take matters into my own hands, I couldn't miss cheap tacos, and I had an incredibly crummy date to make up for.  I texted a guy that I had been chatting with for a bit, though we never could arrange a time to hang out.  I figured I was going out on a limb, not everyone enjoys drag queen bingo...especially on a first day.  Surprisingly he said he'd like to go.  I'm not one for conventional first dates to places like The Olive Garden Italian Restaurant, so drag queen bingo with $2 tacos was in store for the evening.  If I could find someone who wouldn't mind such an off the wall event for a first date, or really any date for that matter, things would surely go half-way decently.

We met up to partake in an evening of bingo, and I even won an incredibly eclectic mixed C.D., which I am convinced you need to be on acid to actually enjoy.  I get a bit competitive during bingo, I even come equipped with my very own lucky Treasure Troll, and as I've said before, Jesus loves a winner.   Long story short, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and our cheap eats, even though the drag queen was not any sort of queen at all, but rather a boy in a cheap dress from Deb.  Oddly enough I ran into Rhoda from the evening before, and we did not have much to say to each other, other than an awkward hello.  As we were leaving bingo we ran into Vacation Jake on the street corner, outside of Lipstick Lounge.  Any first date that was centered around Drag Queen Bingo could not possibly be complete without a trip to the local lesbian bar.  The night was still fairly young, so we joined Vacation Jake for a bit of karaoke.

Obviously, I know how to plan a stellar date.  How could anyone say no to these exciting festivities?!

At one point at Lipstick, my date was accosted by an extremely older, and much drunker, gentleman who claimed the two of us looked like brothers...and Leslie Neilsen.  I sure hope he was speaking of a much much younger Leslie Neilsen, rest his soul.

Our evening came to an end and we said our goodbyes.

Flash forward to present day and in the time since our first date we have met up to eat Mexican food and watch Jersey Shore, another trip to Drag Queen Bingo, and a sushi date with a Jack and Coke nightcap.  So far I'd say things are going pretty swell, and what isn't romantic about drag queens, guidos, and whiskey...I'm sure Ke$ha would kill for a date like that.

Tomorrow's date will take place at the Brad Paisley concert which I won tickets for from my sweet new job that I started on Monday.  It's been a pretty decent week and a half since Valentine's Day.  Perhaps my luck is starting to turn around; I've started a new job, been on a series of great dates, and won concert tickets, and frankly, I can do anything good.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Rhoda.

Yesterday started out as any typical Monday would, except it was Valentine's Day.  I was fully prepared to have my Facebook wall bombarded with an endless array of sappy status updates and pictures of flowers and teddy bears everyone received from the special people in their lives.  I was even fully prepared for any possible engagement which might pop up through the course of the day.  In my humble opinion, VDay is the WORST day for an engagement...and if I were to ever be proposed to on February 14th, I would most certainly decline the offer.  There are plenty of other days throughout the year, so there is no need to pick the lamest possible day known to man.  Just for future reference; other off-days include my birthday and Christmas but for opposite reasons as Valentine's Day...but sure bet days, that if you were to propose to me I would certainly say yes are St. Patrick's Day and opening day of Spartan Football.

Anyway, I was perfectly content with being single on Valentine's day, because as I have stated before, the day is stupid.  And I had actually received the very best Valentine package from LaceFace, I got an entire box of Reese's Peanut Butter eggs....I could not be happier.

The day progressed as any Monday would, I went to work, I came home, I went for a run and then I did the unthinkable...

I actually went on a date...on Valentine's Day.  Now don't jump to any conclusions, it was NOT anything over the top romantic or Valentine themed in any way, it just so happened to fall on February 14th.  I had been chatting with a guy, whom shall be referred to as Rhoda, for a little while and as chance would have it we were both free for dinner.

Since there was not any prep done for a Valentine's Day date, and it was fairly last minute, any big name place that I would usually turn to for a dinner date would surely be full.  Whiskey Kitchen, Rosepepper, and Tin Angel were out of the question.  I was having a craving for Mexican food...mainly for a margarita, so I chose a gem of place on the East side known as Las Maracas.  Las Maracas is not stellar food by any means, but it is decent enough and you can taste more tequila than sweet and sour mix in their margaritas, so it's ok in my book.  And best of all, as a holiday special, margs were only $2.14.  Though I would typically gag at such a corny promotion, that's better than happy hour prices!  Score!  Maybe a good thing or two does come from Valentine's Day after all, and perhaps I can see another side of this Hallmark Holiday.

Rhoda and I spent the next 90 minutes in quite an entertaining conversation...we quoted "Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion" almost the entire time.  Occasionally the convo was peppered with a line or two from "Mean Girls" or "Clueless" but it quickly returned back to RMHSR.  Not many people can quote Romy and Michelle so well, I thought I had a rare talent, but  it figures that I find myself on a date lacking in any actual conversation on VDay and we spend all of dinner talking in lines from popular teen girl comedies.  The conversation honestly did not go any deeper than the intellectually stimulating debate Cher posed when discussing the government's similarity to a dinner party with their involvement in Haiti.  (Bonus points to you if you actually know this reference.)

Dinner and a few margaritas came to an end, and there weren't any lines left in the movie to recite, and since there hadn't been a sequel made, it was time to part ways.  I retired back to the attic and fixed myself a Jack and Coke and watched Sunday's episode of "Desperate Housewives".  My Valentine's date actually was not anything special, so therefore my opinion of February 14th remains the same.  I had an enjoyable time with Rhoda, and although I am a sucker for a conversation full of pop movie quotes, I would like a little substance too, and frankly, I'm the Mary.