Being that my body felt the insane desire to be up at 4 am today, I did some life pondering. I was reading some old saved stories. One I posted a portion of on this blog prior, but not to the extent that I had written. It began as a exploration of how love is supposed to be, as my marriage was a big pile of shit at that point. I began this years ago while married to my first husband, so this has been around a while...
I used the writing of this story to explore the topic of love, and its meanings and such. It helped me cope since I felt out of control. I then extended it to poke a little fun about dating, life, and the like. I think this needs to be allowed in its current form, with the full intent on me continuing this tale. I like it as an alternative expression of humor with a wee bit of true emotional rawness mixed in. So, those of you who viewed the initial content- my apologies for a bit of repeat. But - if you indulge me, you'll see the intent of posting in its current state of entirety.
Life, Love (?), and Other Lessons
What is
love?
Love is...the way you feel after an amazing date. It is the wonderful
combination of coffee and cream. It can be passionate, it can be bittersweet, and
it can be life changing. A spark can create it, or can ignite a flame of the
past. It is like a flower that begins to bloom - looking innocent, but needs
tending to make it grow into a beautiful plant. The stars align by it, songs
are written of it, cards by the hundreds laud it, a whole Valentine’s Day
exists for it, but what is it really? Do we fall into it? Do we grow into it? How
does it begin?
Does love come from mutual attraction,
friendship, or sexual escapades? All have valid points, but is it merely
chemical? Are we programmed to seek love? Children learn love from parents, but
romantic love comes much later. Do we have this ingrained from watching our
parents? We all know that procreation does not require it, so what causes a
human being to be hardwired to search for love? For that matter, when we do
"fall in love", how does one know that it is truly love? Could it be
merely a passing fancy or a distraction? Is it our brain telling us that this
is now - our desire to be wanted, to be needed - is answered?
I think that true love is a goal our soul sets forth for us. It is what we
strive to achieve, just as much as success or wealth. Now our soul may perceive
a relationship as "true love", but as the relationship unwinds before
our eyes, the structure may unravel, much as a worn rug, or favorite sweater.
Question is at this point, do we pick up a needle and repair the damage, or do
we toss it to the curb? Learning to adjust to the flaws is a major component.
If you cannot see beyond the shabbiness, how can you continue to care?
Seeking the answer to relationship problems – this seems like a vast task, but
I have theories to test. When you tell someone you love them, and the
relationship ends, do those feelings just go away? Do they lay dormant in your
subconscious, lurking beneath the surface? Is there a vast storage facility for
those feelings to go to? I wonder. Is
there the "love room" in your mind? This would be the place of
forgotten emotions, a place with a lock and key, where we hide the feelings
that can ultimately hurt us, should we decide to dwell on said feelings.
Relationships are hard. They test the idea that love is patient and kind,
forgives all things, endures all things. Some of us live for that feeling -
that initial "wow, I am seeing cupids and stars floating around"
feeling in the pit of your stomach. But how can one make that feeling into
something tangible, something that lasts for all time? That is the true
question, as love seems to be a fleeting emotion, replaced by our friend
comfort, and his companion, consistency. We can love a new puppy, we have love
for our family, love a song, food, etc., but what of romantic love? How do we
make that part of everyday life?
I believe that your partner, be it man or woman, is seeking answers to the same
question. It is a human emotion, flawed thought it may be, to desire romantic
love. We get it, and the feeling is incredible, you go around with this silly,
sappy grin on your face, and your heart says, “Yes, this is the one for all
time.” Maybe it is, but that feeling fades, and you are left with the mask
being pulled away from that fantastic love. You then are able to see the little
flaws that lie beneath the surface. Our minds think "Wait, this wasn't
what I signed on for", and your heart, still in its love-filled stupor,
says “Ok, I can make this work. I can change my mate to make them who I want
them to be.”
But this is not reality talking, it is desperation. It is human nature to not
be able to admit there was a mistake made. It is your need, as a normal human
being, to be right or to prove others wrong for doubting your connection. So
the struggle continues - you want so badly to capture that feeling you once
had, and your partner being oblivious, not realizing the pain or irritation, as
you swallow those true feelings whole. When you find that you are becoming a
martyr to your real feelings, you should have the common sense to end it for
the sake of sanity. Yet relationships such as these have been going on since
the beginning of time. Husbands with a mistress, and the wife having complete
knowledge, going along with it for whatever rationalization, and vice versa.
Are we destined for one person? Do any of us believe in fate, or destiny, or
the like anymore? I know that when you are with certain people, your heart
pounds, your palms sweat, and you have that slightly nauseous feeling in your
stomach. Is that the sign? Or does a great relationship start with common
interests, friendship, and then love? These are many valid questions.
Watching a couple in the initial phase of love is beautiful. There is much
affection - much hand holding for some and long meaningful glances. Young love?
In today's society, this aspect of love is not the same. Girls are having
babies at younger and younger ages, but they mistake sex for love. What is left
is a child, born out of passion, yet the child resented for the father running
the other way. Sad really.
Does anyone know what will make them truly happy? Does love have to exist for
us to be happy? I think it does, but not necessarily in the romantic
vernacular. I am not knocking romantic love. When it exists, it is mind
blowing. However, the love of family and friends can be satisfying as well. I
know I have put on my cynic's hat, but sometimes love in the romantic venue
comes at a price. You have to decide what drives you.
Now sometimes we want what we cannot have - or maybe should not have. At some
point in everyone's life, you have experienced this. Maybe it is because you
are lonely, or your current relationship is not satisfactory - either in the
physical nature or in the emotional one. Some love, but do not grasp the
concept of a partnership. Their emotions could be expressed, but yet they hold
back out of fear of getting too close, or showing a weakness inside, or
thousands of other pointless reasons. These people communicate, but the things
they share are trivial. The unsuspecting partner is more of a sounding board
than a true romantic companion, and this person becomes disillusioned with
love. They seek an emotional connection - somewhere, anywhere.
I will say this though, if you do not enter a relationship for the right
reasons, it is destined to fail. The hardest part is deciding when to walk
away. How do you do that without being emotionally scarred? For some, this is a
repeat of a repeat - why does this keep happening? You begin to blame yourself
- am I not pretty, thin, nice, sweet, and easy to get along with? Maybe it's
me, am I the damaged one? I do not deserve to be happy. That's a load of crap.
Everyone deserves to be happy, and some of us need to learn how to ask for
what we really want. Period. It does not have to be a fantasy, it can be
real, but you have to go get it. Don't let your dream walk away.
True romantic love is something that
happens. It is a love that is not forced. Each partner is there because they
choose to be. These lovers share a connection on a physical, emotional, and
intellectual plane. They do not have to define what they have, as the
connection is enough. The two of them are there for each other, even if things
are hard. It would be nice if it were easy, but the mere fact that it is a
challenge is a key facet in the equation. Right or wrong, I think that this is
the feeling worth having, and one worth fighting for. Don’t you?
Our society is wired for you to be part of a couple. Go to dinner alone, and
the host/hostess asks, "Only one?" How depressing. You then spend the
rest of your evening pondering why it is ONLY ONE. Buck up folks! Maybe it is
your choice to be only one, maybe you prefer the solitary time to muse over the
day's events, or your life's journey. You and you alone chose to go to dinner
by yourself. It does not have to be some sad commentary of how you were not
part of a couple. Jeez. The ads you see on television are of couples, families,
or singles desperately seeking their other halves. Show me a commercial of
someone single, reveling in their aloneness. Can't think of even one
, can you?
Let's
touch on a few topics.
First, the
blind date.
Dear God,
why would friends do this to another person? You know nothing about this
person that your friends, in their ultimate wisdom, have determined is
"perfect" for you. Really? I mean really? You, as the desperate
lonely loser (which is your friend's wording, not mine), are now relegated to
go out to dinner with said blind date. Now you have to look presentable. Walk
over to your closet - it is filled with dozens of items that you would
not/should not be caught dead in. Should you ask your friend's opinion? I think
not. Remember, this is the same friend who has determined that you are not
going to be a crazy cat lady or creepy old man under their watch. I rather
think their opinion at this point is mute.
After many, many, MANY wardrobe changes, you find the look that says, "Ok,
here I am. This is what I am about." Hair - check, deodorant – check. Oh
wait. Did I put on enough? So off you go to slather more deodorant under your
arms. Look in the mirror - is that deodorant stains on your shirt? Off to yet
your millionth wardrobe change. Teeth brushed - check, blow out into your palm
to check it - eeewww. Grab the mouthwash, chug half of the bottle, gag into the
sink as swallowing mouthwash is disgusting. Ok, ready? Now you are a stressed
out, sweaty, disgruntled mess....bring on the love of your life!
Here we go, walk into the restaurant - so far, so good. Your friend did not
forget to tell you what level of attire is suitable for said restaurant. You go
to the host, as you have arrived 15 minutes prior to the time he/she is going
to show up. Escorted to the table, you are conscious of other people looking at
you in the restaurant. Oh dear God, why?
Do I
have a booger? Is my hair mussed? As you pass by the mirror in the restaurant,
you realize why people are staring - and now pointing and laughing. There,
stuck to the back of your jacket/dress, is a sock. Crap! You beg the host to
please, please remove the offensive material, which they do. Sit down at the
table. Determine which seat is optimal for you, make sure it is not under an
air conditioning vent or heater vent. After a 5 minute debate on this subject,
you are ready for the date to begin.
Here he/she comes - ok, looks wise, not half bad. Yet there is something oddly
familiar about this person. Hmmm - How do I know you? This is going to make me
crazy. Was it school? Public place? Someone I work with? Blind date opens their
mouth to speak, meanwhile you are completely lost in trying to figure out who
they are. A blank stare comes across their face - oh no! She/he asked me a
question, and you did not hear it, because you were too busy obsessing. Do
you A) look like an ass and say "pardon?", B) say something clever
like "Oh, I am sorry, I did not hear you over the kitchen noise/music/loud
people talking, etc., C) spill your water in a desperate attempt to not look
like a fool for not listening, or D) pretend you heard the question,
and say something that only you deem smooth in your mind? Yet you go
with none of these. You choose option E) stand up, catch the tablecloth on your
clothing, and pull all liquid beverages on yourself. Smooth!
Now that you have sufficiently guaranteed that there will not be a second date,
you try to diffuse the situation. Out comes the wine list. You try to impress
your date with your wine knowledge - God bless the internet! Your
date looks at you with disdain, she/he is not a drinker. How dare you suggest
such a thing? Ok, off to a rocky start to say the least. You apologize
profusely, and then it happens - the moment where you remember HOW you know
your blind date. This person went to the same party as you in college, and was
so drunk they took their clothes off and streaked through the campus, until one
of the campus police tackled them, and, as typical, in a large rose bush. You
stifle the urge to laugh out loud- must...not…laugh, must.....not.....laugh.
Suddenly it bursts out of your lips, initially like a balloon releasing air,
then turning on to a chortle, and becoming a full on cackle. The entire
restaurant turns to look at you, your face becoming a lovely shade of purple,
tears streaming from your eyes, nose running - yet the ability to stop has left
the building. Your date gets up, throws a glass of water in your face, utters a
few choice words, and storms out.
Ah Karma,
she's a bitch.
Next
up: being the single person at a wedding.
What a
supreme joy, your dearest friend is getting married. You are happy for them,
but in your mind, you keep thinking "Oh crap, I need to find someone to
take to the wedding." Now usually, going to a wedding together is
something that happens after you have been dating AWHILE. It's not like your
first date is dinner and a movie, second date, hey let's go to a wedding together
- are you fucking crazy? He/she will look at you, and in their head go,
"Run, dammit, run. Date two and this person is instantly thinking
commitment? Run, Run.....for the love of God run!" So you weigh the
alternatives: A) Go with a family member - safe bet? Well, think again. Said
family member, if they are acquainted with other people at the wedding, will
automatically go into Match.com mode. "Hey look at that guy/girl. Aren't
they good looking? You should ask them out." or - and my personal favorite,
"Hello (insert name here), have you met my cousin, brother/sister? They
were just talking about you and I think you two would really hit it off" -
telling this person how alone and desperate you have become? No thanks.
B)Skip the
wedding all together. However in this scenario, the repercussions are HUGE.
Remember , this is the friend that knows every last dirty secret you have - and
after a few drinks, becomes blabby. So, all of your family are at this wedding,
and now Mom and Dad know about the drunken weekend bash you had when they were
out of town. The person you've secretly crushed on all these years? Well,
cat's out of the bag! Heaven help you if they manage to dig out the
photographic evidence of the most horrific moments you have been trying to forget. Hello,
late night phone call after the reception!
Which leaves us with option C) Go alone. Ok, this option seems sad and
desperate, but really? This is actually the smartest choice. Yes, you do look a
bit pathetic, but on the plus side, you are in the driver's seat. You can do
this.Think suave and sophisticated. Be the one that everyone looks at for the
right reasons. Yeah...
Fast
forward to the day of the wedding. Tumble out of bed. You have that killer
outfit, the right shoes, the hat that says "Wow, I am awesome!" 5
hours until you have to be at the church. Off to the bathroom, glance in the
mirror - OH, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY - look at the size of that zit!
Right on the tip of your nose. Suave...um no. Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer?
That is much, much closer. Keys, keys - race to the drugstore. Never mind that
you still have a nasty case of bedhead and are dressed in the world's rattiest
pajamas - the day will be ruined with Godzillazit! (For the bride,
of course) SHE'd be mortified.
Burst into the drugstore, trip over your own feet, take a nasty tumble on the
tile floor. Spectacular! Now not only do you have the zit of a lifetime, you
now have bruises on your body. What is that red stuff? You are also cut and
bleeding. Son of a bitch! Stumble up to the clerk, beg for a band aid, and
plead for ANYTHING that will shrink the pimple down to a manageable size in
four and a half hours.
You
leave the drugstore with $150.00 worth of desperation. Drive home at a
break-neck pace, leap from the car, slather, pick, poke, scrub...then repeat.
Look in the mirror again - not only has Godzillazit NOT shrunk, it has now
brought a few of its closest friends, as well as a killer strawberry rash, and
that lovely band aided gash on your forehead- naturally has a Hello Kitty
band aid, as that is all the clerk at the drugstore had (or so she said.
Personally,you think it is some sick vendetta since you disturbed her in
the midst of a conversation with some good looking guy). Well, fuck. Too
late to back out now - only 2 hours until your doom.
Trying to make the best of a bad situation, now you decide to shower.
Naturally, no hot water.Why not? Teeth chattering madly, you get out, blindly
grasp for the towel on the door, as you are still sporting soap in your eyes,
which is stinging unlike any pain you have ever experienced. Then you manage to
pry them open a crack - SWEET MOTHER - lo and behold, you have used your
wedding outfit as a towel! Sit on the bathroom floor, a wet, naked, pimpled ball,
and cry.
After five minutes of self-piteous weeping (where even the dog is like
"Come on, pull yourself together! What are you - three?"), you find
the courage to go over to your closet. What do you have left to wear to a
wedding? Well, remember, there IS still the coolest hat in all the
universe, and the shoes...which are...right...NO SPOT NOOOOOOOO! Not only has
the dog mocked you senselessly, the bastard has now reduced the shoe count from
a pair to a single. Perfect. Well? Closet? Etu Brute'? Who dresses you - Bozo?
Yes, let's pull out the plaid with the polka dot shirt...there has GOT to be
something else. Has someone broken into your home and replaced the cool
clothes with garage sale rejects? There...in the back...what's this? A
presentable look....say it ain't so, Mable. Pray really, really, really hard
that the one decent outfit in the closet still fits. Off the hanger...so far so
good, over the ass...oh, my, this MIGHT work. Go for the zipper....up, damn
you! Suck it in even harder...tug, tug, there you go! You are in! Big
shirt...bless you, hide that gut. Look in the mirror - not half bad. Finish the
look, even the pimple is shrinking in absolute fear. 30 minutes...you can do
this. Grab the shoes that will make your toes wince with pain, but remember,
beauty is pain. Force those piggies into them! Throw on the chapeau, and
OFF WE GO!
Drive at a snail's pace to the church...right behind grandma and her blue hair.
Plenty of time. Breathe, breathe...you can do this. Arrive at the church 5
minutes before the beginning .People look at you and smile. Your friend
looks at you, stifles a giggle, and proceeds to walk down the aisle. Must be
happy. The church looks amazing, you are sitting next to other mutual
friends, what could be better? Here comes the bride...beautiful, elegant, lacy,
white (even though WE all know that is a crock), and you sigh at the utter
beauty of it all. Hmmm...you are a little itchy. Gently scratch your
forehead...realizing why you were getting smiles, and a stifled giggle. Well
HELLO KITTY...why not? How for the love of all things suave did you miss this?
Rip the band aid from your forehead...SON OF A BITCH! Bite
your lip to prevent you screaming out loud like a child.
Finally, the ceremony is over. As you try to gently slide out of the pew, trip
over your own feet, fall facedown in the aisle. Oh, aren't you going to make
some man/woman a wonderful catch someday? Fortunately, only 75% of the church
saw it, there's still a whopping 25% that has the illusion of your utter
coolness and sophistication. Score! Now off to the reception.
You walk in, and your friend that did not make the ceremony comments how
stylish you look. There's one in the plus column - up against negative 350. You
are making progress. And ...then it collapses. In walks ex-girlfriend/boyfriend
#1, closely followed by numbers 2 AND 3. What did you do to deserve this? It's
your Karma...that's what you get for laughing when that woman in white stepped
right in that puddle of mud. Said trio apparently have bonded...in their shared
disdain of you. Terrific! Number one approaches (affectionately referred to as
BIG HEAD in your twisted brain), and says - loudly enough for the ENTIRE
reception to hear- "So I see that they even invited a loser like you to
the wedding. Spectacular. I see you couldn't even get a date. How sad for
you!" Numbers 2 and 3 both chortle with glee, and you take IMMENSE
satisfaction seeing number 3 shoot champagne out of his/her nose. Ha Ha, sucks
to be you.
And then you see her/him, across the room, looking beautiful. How could someone
this classy be at this wedding/reception? Not possible. You saunter over to
this Greek god/goddess, and open your mouth to speak...when they start laughing
hysterically. OMG, what now? Out of the corner of your eye, you see number 1
mimic you in the worst possible way. FanFLIPPINtastic. You slink away,
metaphoric tail between your legs, walking the walk of shame. Off to the bar.
Six martinis later (hic) and yoouu are ready (hic) to hit the dance floor and
shake your groove thing...wait, is it hot in here? The unholy trinity has
morphed into 6, and now don't look quite so bad. BIG HEAD is surprisingly a
good dancer, and number 2 (hic) is not quite as fat as they used to be, but
number 3 (spastic spaz) is looking FINE (hic). You stroll (ok, stumble) on over
to option #3, and in your smoothest drunk, say, "Hey babe, you are looking
so sexy tonight!" , or in your head, that's what you have said. To
everyone else in the room, it comes out, "Hy bab, (hic) u ar so sxy
ngt" in drunken slur. Number 3 starts talking, and you are starting to
feel a bit queasy. Not now stomach (hic), I might still get lucky tonight and
salvage my evening. Urp, uck....go down, stay in my stomach. Number 3 is just
starting to look at you in that " I want to take you to bed now" way,
and you become aware that you are sweating profusely. Fortunately, number 3 has
also been drinking, so you are looking like a pretty fine catch. You lean in,
trying to finalize the kill...and you throw up, RIGHT in number 3's face. Your
life, and your evening, is now pretty much over.
So what's left? How are you EVER going to meet the love of your life? Your
Facebook friends comment on your wall often, telling you that you DESPERATELY
need to meet someone...or get laid, whichever works. You try to tell yourself,
it doesn't matter. You have Facebook, you have your guild in WOW, what more
could you possibly need? AND on Facebook, you are getting poked on a regular
basis...kind of like getting laid, right? Right.
One late, lonely evening, after 6 cans of Red Bull, and hours of skulking along
the Internet, it comes to you. Well, actually, it pops up on one of the porn
sites you've been browsing, but that's neither here nor there. Internet dating!
People who are lonely, love to be on the computer, and are seeking the same
things you are...what could go wrong?
You enter
one of those random sites, and lo and behold, a 30 day trial membership for
FREE! Yes, the computer is speaking your language tonight. Looks simple enough,
set up an account, answer 50 questions to find someone who is compatible,
upload a photo - ok, lets do it! Question #1 - Describe your ideal mate. Are
they a) witty,often referred to as the funniest at a party b) serious,loves
to read, c) down to earth,a stay at home person , d) a party animal,
loves to be the center of attention, or e) a rebel, loves to go their own way.
Oh, let's go with e. Question #2 - What would you most enjoy doing on a date?
a) Night out on the town - you have to get the party started!, b) a nice
candlelight dinner, then a movie, c) making dinner for that special someone,
and watching a DVD in, d) a nice picnic - the outdoors is where everyone
should be, or e) whatever, hey -you are easygoing. Hmm..that's a tough one. You
lean towards e, put this down, then panic....wait, does that make me seem
cheap, easy, or the like? Well, too late to change it now. These questions go
on and on - seriously, there is one that says, If your mate had a tattoo, where
would you want it to be? And the answers are waaay more graphic than you'd
think. Finally, you finish. Load the one picture of yourself that does not make
you wince in pain when you look at it, and voila! Complete.
About 2 hours later, you decide to check to see if you have any nibblers.
Score! You look at the picture - wait, is that a guy or girl? Is that...no it
can't be...wait, yes it is - a unibrow. Are you kidding? You have 3 options -
unisex unibrow, #2 - cute , but lives with parents and has NO job, and #3 -
yes, needs a green card and wants to marry you, even though you have never met.
Slam head into desk repeatedly. Grab the bottle of wine you were saving for the
first date, and down the whole bottle. Call it a night.
You decide to give the process a few days. Come home from work, power up Betsy
(as you are that geeky to name the computer), and load the site. My! You have
10 more responses. Bring these up, rate intially by looks. Weed out the
first three this way. Then look at the cute notes they have provided -
ugh! Weed out two more in this process. Employed? Two more hit the chopping
block. Which leaves three, and not a bad looking three at that. Ok, where do I
begin? Oh, profile! Uh oh...number one is out, as on their page, state that
Satan IS their lord and master. Figures. Two and three, they have
possibilities. Number two is a teacher...good, divorced...can live with that,
two children...yeah, ok. Seems moderately intelligent - which is a FAR cry from
at least your last dozen dates. Number three is a doctor...woo hoo! New in
town, looking to meet people, saw your ad, thought maybe you could show them
around town on a date. Shocked, you contact both of the possibilities via
email. Both respond within about an hour. You now have a Friday night, and a
Saturday night date. Life is good.
Friday rapidly approaches, and you are left with the age old quandary - first
date? What the hell do we do? Since your experiences for making a first date
turn into a second are sorely lacking, you consult the age old sage - your mom?
Not bloody likely, as Mom will ALSO mock unrelentingly. You can't ask your
friends, as they view Internet dating as one stone's throw short of the loony
bin. Sigh. Who can you trust to give you the advice and answer those questions
you need answered? The answer comes to you...your most trusted and reliable
source, the Internet! Where to begin? You randomly search for dating advice,
some seems quite smart - other pages look like they are wanting you to hook up.
Not necessarily a bad idea, as you are on the mammoth of all dry spells, but
think better of the idea. Ok, first up...the teacher.
It's Friday, and what is there for two intelligent (you are including yourself
in the intelligent category - for now) people to do? SCORE! A classic movie
festival downtown...featuring "Casablanca", "The Maltese
Falcon", and "Sabrina", as it is Humphrey Bogart night.
Spectacular! You MIGHT be able to pull this off. Ahh, the movie first date -
the ultimate in casual. Not forced to make horribly desperate small talk in
copious amounts - only brief, meaningless chatter. Combine this with
popcorn, and a dark theater...what could go wrong?
You agree to meet at the theater, which is also a lifesaver - as your car
smells infinitely of Spot, as today was the day he needed to go to the vet.
Combine this with the fact that you both shared burritos last night, and he got
a bath while at the vet, and you have wet, gassy dog smell...quite the
aphrodisiac. You are to meet by the ticket window. You saunter over there, and
there is strike one...the online picture apparently was a bit old. The teacher
has aged...considerably. Try about 15 years. Strike two...and has gained about
100 pounds since said photo. You are a dumb ass. Hell, make the best of it.
What's left to do at the last minute on a Friday night? Scrabble with Mom and
Dad? Bond with Spot over the latest "Jersey Shore"? Crap. Into the
dark, secluded theater you go.
The teacher (a.k.a. The Deceiver) launches into a 30 minute monologue about how
classic films are a dying art form, Humphrey Bogart was one of the last classic
film icons, we should feel blessed that theaters still recognize the
brilliance, and show those films from time to time...blah, blah, blah. All the
while munching non stop on the COLOSSAL tub of popcorn and slurping incessantly
on the ...wait for it...DIET cola. You pray that no one you know will see you
here, and beg for the sweet, sweet release of someone yelling "FIRE"
in the crowded theater. A three movie date...who was the moron who came up with
this genius idea? Oh yeah, right...that would be you. Sighing loudly, you are
determined to make the best of a horrible , horrible situation.
And...in the going from bad to worse category in 2.1 seconds, the teacher begins
to get...well, a bit AMOROUS. Passes are made and deflected, arms around
shoulders are deflected, grabbing of hands are mercifully slippery, due to the
tub 'o corn. You excuse yourself to go to the restroom, and The Deceiver plants
one on your lips...greasy, buttery, slimy...just what you have been waiting for
all of your life. You sprint towards the restroom. In your head, you
are desperately mapping out escape routes and strategies. Bolt and run? Feign
illness? Crawl out of the bathroom window? All seem like viable options.
However, you realize by ending the date this way, you are setting
yourself up for a confrontation down the road. You call a friend...this is the
same friend who set you up with drunken college streaker...who OWES you one.
Your friend agrees to make the "escape" call in 2 minutes. You linger
in the restroom, hoping to avoid a bit of the slovenly groping. Finally, you
come back to the seat, and miraculously find yourself ALONE. Incredible. Your
friend calls, you tell them to call back in like 10 minutes, meanwhile you
wait. The Deceiver has vanished. Maybe the teacher got the subtle hint? You are
slightly, inexplicably disappointed. You watch the remainder of the films, in
peace, and return home. Via the online dating site, you get a message from
the teacher. "I'm sorry, but this isn't going to work for me. You are too
much of a tease, and are way too thin for me to find attractive. Best of luck
with someone else." The Deceiver is dumping ME? Are you SERIOUS? Wow!
Well, isn’t that the rub?
So this brings us to Saturday night,
and to the doctor, no less. You still have no concept of how a doctor would
find you attractive, as they are more educated, most likely more put together,
and went to college without being forced. Hey, you’re the lucky one for this
person’s momentary lapse of judgement – let’s take full advantage of it.
