If you like roofie coladas, and gettin’ clubbed in the brain…

I know today is supposed to be part two of pieces of wisdom, but I went on my date last night and wanted to tell you about it. Hey, it's my blog.

Datefud
Here I am on my date. Don't I look just like baked brie and crispy butterflies? I know. I was beggin for a migraine, getting baked brie. Also, why can't I lose the weight?

The last time I got ready for a date was 1996, whether you count Marvin or not. I met Marvin when I was dating someone else, although I was in an open relationship. That was my idea, the open relationship part, and who knew it'd work to my advantage?

So I did not wear black tights and a huge blazer as I would have in 1996, but it felt sort of 1996-y getting ready. I wonder if I could say "1996" more often in this post?

Anyway, I walked in and there he was and after feeling horrified for about a minute and a half, it was just fine. He's way cool! We talked for almost three hours and I had no idea that much time was passing.

Naturally I yakked about my dogs, because I should not get started on that topic, and we talked about our families and why people in the South think it's okay to lead off with, "What church do you go to?" and our jobs and hypochondria (mine) and optimism and pessimism and pictures of people you don't know (really that was more my topic) and our exes and why cats like allergic people (he's allergic to cats) (I KNOW) and Los Angeles and crazy people on Match.com and why someone would name himself 80inchbrotha on Match.com (he has emailed me several times, 80inchbrotha. You will be shocked to hear I have not corresponded with him, as I am not Catherine the Great) and migraines (we both get them) and Angelina Jolie.

I guess in retrospect I can see how three hours passed. Also, the guy next to us was eating and sucking his fingers and you have no idea how much I wanted to go over there and slap him with my brie.

And my bra straps kept falling out my shirt the entire time. You GUYS. WHY can't I keep my bra straps up? What is WRONG with me? And yes, they ARE tightened. I am deformed.

Finally, it was late and I had to get home, as I knew Edsel would be berserk at being left alone all day and then for several hours in the evening, and indeed he was beside himself and is going to day care today to get his wiggles out before I behead him along with that finger-sucking guy.

We walked to my car, which was right there on the street with plenty of other people around, get over it, and made plans to see each other again. "Thanks for not murdering me!" I said, as I left.

So. Success! It was an excellent forage back into dating world. Much better than my last forage in 1980 when some guy in high school took me to a kegger and tried to go up my shirt.

Hi, mom.   

P.S. "1996."                                   

132 thoughts on “If you like roofie coladas, and gettin’ clubbed in the brain…

  1. Amish Annie, were you in the stall next to June at the restaurant or did you hack into her and Hulk’s texting?

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  2. Amish Annie, were you in the stall next to June at the restaurant or did you hack into her and Hulk’s texting?

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  3. B- killed me with your purse around the knees visualization! ā™„
    And Sadie- Yep…well endowed…slapping a big ol’ strap in between them only causes them to be even more ‘poke your eye out’ than usual. (mine and everybody elses) I try to draw less attention to them, not rocket them out there for show.
    …maybe I could sling the purse strap over my neck and wear it front…like a necklace…

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  4. Yup. I have the purse problem, too. So mine is slung across my chest from right to left, ala the messenger bag. I am my own fashion icon. I have noticed that some girls have the big bony ridge on their shoulder. Do you know the one I speak of? Like a knob on the tip of their shoulder that holds things up there. Yeah. I don’t have that.
    AND I strap my purse to the shopping cart too! I thought I was a one of a kind genius for coming up with that theft prevention device!
    I can wear the jogging bra because honestly I barely need a bra at all. My cup runneth over more now than when I was a teen, but it’s still a manageable situation. I wear the bra out of social constraint. Which I often regret. Wait, that was yesterday.
    And Hulk, I don’t expect you to notice the shoulder knobs, since you’re clearly so busy noticing the other knobs.

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  5. i can’t wait for my first real date. i’ve been on three. one we met up when i crashed my ever beloved waited for 20 years mustange…we had lunch w. promises of calling me for dinner. no go.
    date 2 and 3 were of the hottest man i have seen in a long, long…looonnnng time. however, i can ready for the party and he’s not read to to fill my dance card. if you know what i mean.
    haven’t officially joined a site yet but i will be checking out the two book recommendations.
    currently reading a book on women who get divorce after 40…hello. me. and how it’s different. especially after spending 20 plus years with the jekyll come lately hyde. or is it the other way around. some days i wonder if the looney bin will call and know me on sight.
    welcome dick. although i think that the name has has ominious sounding beginnings.

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  6. Too bad about his cat allergy. Maybe Dick and I could start a suppport group for men who find themselves attracted to women who have cats. At the meetings we could serve coffee and Benadryl.
    Sounds like your bra liked him too. Maybe it subconsciously wanted him to remove it!

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  7. We are white. And we “look” very white, what with our tailored clothes and my Brighton Jewelry. Our 18 year old daughter’s best friend all through school has been a beautiful girl of color. Love, love, love that girl. We consider her another daughter. She would travel with us on summer vacay and our daughter would travel with her family on summer vacay. True story…..around junior high school our daughter traveled by plane to Texas, which just happened to be their destination, and probably not pertinent to the story, but……her Dad, who is also like family to us, politely requested/explained that would we mind writing up a little letter that they would carry with them saying that our (white, blonde) daughter was traveling with their family with our blessing. I assume he knew what he was doing and we supplied the letter. There was no incident, but what a sad commentary that there should be such a concern. We laugh about it so we don’t cry.
    Looking forward to the birth stories tomorrow! I have two GOOD stories, SB, so don’t fear me. When I was pregnant with my first baby, I actually had a girl friend who called me one evening and said,
    “So, are you gettin’ scared yet?”
    *crickets* *crickets* *crickets*
    Me: “Oh, you know what? That’s my door bell! I’ll have to call you back!”
    Moral of the story: Don’t let anything in your head you don’t approve first.
    June, traveling mercies to you! Have a great time.

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