DATING. The awkward, unnatural process of selecting one's lifetime mate. The trial and tribulations of success and rejection. The fear of being alone forever.
After my divorce, I went a bit wild. I was FREE! Meeting my EX at age 17, married by 19, divorced by 22. I made up for lost time doing things I should have been doing during my early college years. I was single, in a new state, thin, rocking tons of blonde highlights, working odd shifts at Starbucks, with an EX husband paying my car off and getting alimony. Not too shabby for a girl that was just jilted and torn up. I went crazy! I wasn't under his thumb any more. I went dancing with a girlfriend (thanks, Angie!) the day I got my divorce finalization in the mail. Not familiar with dressing sexy (wasn't allowed to), I innocently wore a white t-shirt, jean shorts, and tennis shoes. My hair was up in a curly ponytail. After dinner, on a whim, we hit up a club/bar. I'm surprised I got in. I wasn't dressed up, and I pretty much looked about 18. I got in, and I got DOWN! After a few drinks, I was dropping it like it was hot, dancing around poles, doing some gymnastics, and flirting my ass off. One guy actually asked Angie, "where did THIS girl come from?!" Clearly, not expecting me to be shaking like a salt shaker. Don't let the tennies fool you!
That unlocked something in me. I was out and about enjoying the nightlife. I danced, I sang karaoke, I flirted, and I put a few new notches in my lipstick case. (disclaimer: I'm sorry for that tidbit, family members). A few guys I met. I will not name names to protect the innocent...or guilty in this case.
Mr. C. Met him while enjoying dinner with some girlfriends. I saw him. My motto has always been: Julie sees, Julie wants, Julie gets. I was going to get him. To the disbelief of my friends, I walked right up to his table, where he was with 3 other guys. I asked a few random questions and walked away. After their meals were gone, guess who joined us? Yep. Got him! I gave him my number, and then off he went...to a strip club. This did not raise any flags for me. He called me at 1 am, drunk. I was hooked. He wanted to talk to me! And damn, he had pretty eyes! We hung out the next night at his house. In his 30s with 3 roommates. Still no red flags. Found out he had a baby on the way with his EX. STILL no red flags. He was so hot! And he liked me. Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm pretty sure we never went on any dates. We went to a strip club once, and a few clubs with his friends, but never an official date.
Mr. F. Met him while at a club celebrating a birthday or a going away something rather that my brother had invited me to. Getting pretty good at the whole "sexy" thing, I sported a low cut red top, a skirt that barely covered my ass cheeks, a tiny G-string, and heels. I was dancing and accidentally kicked his friend. We got to talking, and danced. I'm pretty sure there wasn't any body part he didn't touch while we were dancing. Had that happened now, I would have kicked him so hard he would be pulling his balls out of his throat. No red flags. This one was different. We went on a date. He introduced me to his friends and family. After about a year of dating, we moved in together. I managed to get a 25 year old mama's boy out of his parent's house! We stayed together for almost another year. Perhaps if he had paid more attention to me and helped out around the house, things would have worked out differently.
Single in a big house, I decided to take in a roommate. Mr. B. I think at the time, we were both lonely and were just looking to have someone to talk to. We didn't date...we were JUST roommates. He was a quirky little guy. An OCD, gangly, possibly gay (or bi) computer nerd with a drug and alcohol problem. We went out all the time. To the local dive bars, the clubs, etc. I met a few of his hot friends. That didn't last too long, and I swore after that, I would never have a roomie again! He still owes me money. If you're reading this, Mr. B...I would like my $300 back please.
Fast forward to Halloween of 2007. We see a hot, skinny, blonde/red haired girl, in a bikini. My friends and I decided to be the Swedish Drinking Team ala Beer Fest that year. I was sporting a light blue bikini, a white furry vest zipped up to display my cleavage, and white, furry, calf high boots. Pretty hot, right?! On the patio, we drank at the Irish Pub. Drinks were flowing. A portly pirate asked for a cigarette. I bummed one from my friend and gave it to him. He made a beeline for me, and after talking for a few minutes, he wanted to buy me a drink. That drink turned into 3, then 5, then 7. After talking and flirting, we decided: WE'RE GOING TO VEGAS TO GET MARRIED!!! Then it occurred to me: I can't get married in a bikini! That would be dumb! Ah, drunk logic. I drove us to my house (got lucky I didn't get caught driving. Pretty sure I was swerving all over the road). DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE, PLEASE!!! We made it safely. We came inside to my roommate and his current flavor of the week. WE'RE GETTING MARRIED!!! Um, what? Finally, in a moment of sobering realization, I told him that he should probably meet my parents first. We dated for a few months, he moved in, then BAM. Knocked up! I had a beautiful baby girl 2 days before Halloween of 2008. How's that for a quick run?
Now that I'm a single mom, my dating standards have been raised. I'm done with the hot douchebags that look good without a shirt. Well, not totally. I get short and stocky. Think Shrek. Not having much free time to get out, I signed up for a dating site. Let me tell you, there are some creepy dudes out there! I have met a few, but somehow, I seem to attract stalkers. Saying "I'm taking my profile down, I found you!" and "I love you" after 2 weeks. MAJOR RED FLAGS! After calling it off, and trying to pursue me 4 months after the fact...you are officially a stalker. Taking subtle hints didn't work. I'm sure I had a few "drive-bys" after that. I hope he doesn't have a used tissue of mine, a lock of my hair, and an alter set up in my honor. My standards were not that demanding. He must have a job, a car, and shoes. Yes, it has come down to that. Something is wrong if I have to declare shoes as a requirement. FYI, Aqua Socks ARE NOT SHOES!!! Now, I have added additional desires: non-smoker, single (being "single" while still living with your soon to be EX wife is not acceptable), age appropriate (21 years old?! Oh, honey, how's your first beer taste? 55 year old band groupie? Hey, how cool WAS the invention of the TV?), not looking for a fling, must like children, have good hygiene, and realize my child comes before him. Getting a message that says, "Come and get me baby, my biscuit is already buttered" is NOT sexy. What the hell does that even mean anyways?
I'm getting to the point where I feel I will either be an Old Maid, or simply not look any longer. I'm also to the point where I almost feel like I might not really need a mate. After being single for so long, I am pretty set in my ways. I think for myself and do my own things. I pay my own bills. I still like to listen to Ace of Base. I enjoy peeing with the door open. I enjoy having sole control over the remote. I watch chick flicks and Lifetime. I don't care for sports. I don't think I can share my bed with anyone other than my kid. The "passenger" side is for temporary parking only! I don't sleep well with someone there, and if you snore, GOODBYE! Being alone and single has both benefits and set backs. Maybe I can find a guy that will let me cook for him, hang out, then get the hell out! I don't know what I want anymore. I don't have a "type" any longer. This thing called "dating" is so tiring! I might as well pick a random guy from a line-up and call it good.
They say once I stop looking, I'll find him. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Love happens when it happens. There are thousands of cliches and quotes to make one feel ok about not having a partner. I think I'm ok with it. I am pretty awesome though, and I should have my PhD in flirting, so if you know of any single, non-weird, successful, cute, and funny men, feel free to send them my way.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Road Trippin'
Seeing my family (some for the first time in over a decade!)this past week brought up a lot of memories for me. First, it was so great to catch up and see what everyone has been up to. It's crazy that most of us have our own kiddos now!
In talking with my cousin, Camie, I was reminded of memories of the family beach house in Cannon Beach, OR (they filmed some of the Goonies there!)and summer trips. Pretty much every summer, we stuffed the family Jeep (complete with wood paneling)with my parents, me and my brother, and usually a dog. The luggage was strapped down to the roof. Think of the movie Vacation. Except, we never drove with a dead relative strapped to the roof or kill a dog that was accidentally hooked onto the bumper. The similarities to Vacation are coincidental. The brother and sister in the back, bitching at each other and annoying each other on purpose. "Mom! She's LOOKING at me!" "MOOOOM! He's in my space!" "Dad, he just gave me a wet willy!" The father with visions of the perfect vacation and rambling historical facts and blaring the oldies and attempting to sing, oblivious to any sort of ruckus that might have been occurring. The petite, blonde, ever patient mom sitting in front trying to be the mediator. The smells from the back seat. The smell of dog fart and dog barf. My dad also always had rose tinted glasses and when the sun started to set, he would pass them around so we could see the colors it was through his glasses. Now that I'm thinking about that, it probably wasn't the best idea to take off his RX glasses while driving with the setting sun in his face. Ah, who thought it would be a good idea to cram us all in this small, confined space for days at a time? Then putting us all in a 2 bed hotel room with 1 bathroom and 1 TV. Formula for arguing a lot.
Our most frequent road trip was to Portland, OR and Cannon Beach, OR. It was so exciting after asking for the 10,371 time "are we there yet?" when yes, you actually are. We'd pull up in front of the beach house and unload our stuff. The smell. The smell of salty air in a musky house that had been closed up for months. We would fight over who got which room. Get everything set up, unload the groceries, and then settle in. Old board games, puzzles, ancient bikes sitting in the garage, a dinky little TV, and endless possibilities for entertainment. We would wonder around in the lush forest behind the house, trying to avoid sink holes. We saw little raccoons who had made their home under the deck. We would ride bikes all over the town. Down to the beach, down to the little downtown, where we would hit up the toy store and market. I even set up a lemonade stand, where I made $29. This was significant since my mom lost her purse that night, and my money was the only money we had for gas and such until it was located. I had "beach house" friends. The ones you only see once a year. Think of the movie Beaches. There was a cool girl that lived with her grandparents. There was the white trash family in the duplex house down the street. The girls across the street that were from Washington. We always had a blast! I learned how to ride my first 2 wheel bike there. Memories.
One time, my cousin, Camie, my nana, and her new kitten Muffy took a solo trip to the house for a weekend. I was in charge of the menu. I had the menus planned and the grocery lists written up. It was a special girl's trip. We played Gin Rummy until the wee hours of the morning. The next day, Camie and I went to the beach to play. We made a mermaid in the sand, complete with algae to make scales on her tail, and seaweed for her hair. It was a work of art if I do say so! It took us like 2 hours to make. Then we decided to leave, and a little shit of a kid ran up to it and started to jump on it and ruin it! Oh, was I pissed. I noticed he had been digging a huge hole in the sand. I asked him if it was his hole. He said yes. So, I walked right on over and filled it back up! Revenge. I still remember his face of disbelief. You ruin my work of art, I'll do it back! Hahaha. We rode down to the general market, and stocked up on Archie comic books and smores stuff. We were obsessed with Archie. I think we bought them out. We got home, and boy, was Nana mad! We were gone way to long and she was worried. She grounded us. That made us mad. I think we made her cry. In retrospect, we were little brats! But, overall, it was a good weekend.
I went back there a few years ago, and Lilli got to see the 'ol beach house. It was nice to share it with her and show her the things I used to see/do when I was little. It's different going back as an adult. Perhaps I'll brave it one day when she's older...but road trips can have their moments! Maybe I'll invest in a car that has one of those fancy DVD players. How far cars have come. All we had was car bingo and Walkmans. I could only listen to so much Paula Abdul trying to block out my dad singing The Bear Went Over the Mountain. I will always remember those trips though. There's a little beach house in my heart. :)
In talking with my cousin, Camie, I was reminded of memories of the family beach house in Cannon Beach, OR (they filmed some of the Goonies there!)and summer trips. Pretty much every summer, we stuffed the family Jeep (complete with wood paneling)with my parents, me and my brother, and usually a dog. The luggage was strapped down to the roof. Think of the movie Vacation. Except, we never drove with a dead relative strapped to the roof or kill a dog that was accidentally hooked onto the bumper. The similarities to Vacation are coincidental. The brother and sister in the back, bitching at each other and annoying each other on purpose. "Mom! She's LOOKING at me!" "MOOOOM! He's in my space!" "Dad, he just gave me a wet willy!" The father with visions of the perfect vacation and rambling historical facts and blaring the oldies and attempting to sing, oblivious to any sort of ruckus that might have been occurring. The petite, blonde, ever patient mom sitting in front trying to be the mediator. The smells from the back seat. The smell of dog fart and dog barf. My dad also always had rose tinted glasses and when the sun started to set, he would pass them around so we could see the colors it was through his glasses. Now that I'm thinking about that, it probably wasn't the best idea to take off his RX glasses while driving with the setting sun in his face. Ah, who thought it would be a good idea to cram us all in this small, confined space for days at a time? Then putting us all in a 2 bed hotel room with 1 bathroom and 1 TV. Formula for arguing a lot.
Our most frequent road trip was to Portland, OR and Cannon Beach, OR. It was so exciting after asking for the 10,371 time "are we there yet?" when yes, you actually are. We'd pull up in front of the beach house and unload our stuff. The smell. The smell of salty air in a musky house that had been closed up for months. We would fight over who got which room. Get everything set up, unload the groceries, and then settle in. Old board games, puzzles, ancient bikes sitting in the garage, a dinky little TV, and endless possibilities for entertainment. We would wonder around in the lush forest behind the house, trying to avoid sink holes. We saw little raccoons who had made their home under the deck. We would ride bikes all over the town. Down to the beach, down to the little downtown, where we would hit up the toy store and market. I even set up a lemonade stand, where I made $29. This was significant since my mom lost her purse that night, and my money was the only money we had for gas and such until it was located. I had "beach house" friends. The ones you only see once a year. Think of the movie Beaches. There was a cool girl that lived with her grandparents. There was the white trash family in the duplex house down the street. The girls across the street that were from Washington. We always had a blast! I learned how to ride my first 2 wheel bike there. Memories.
One time, my cousin, Camie, my nana, and her new kitten Muffy took a solo trip to the house for a weekend. I was in charge of the menu. I had the menus planned and the grocery lists written up. It was a special girl's trip. We played Gin Rummy until the wee hours of the morning. The next day, Camie and I went to the beach to play. We made a mermaid in the sand, complete with algae to make scales on her tail, and seaweed for her hair. It was a work of art if I do say so! It took us like 2 hours to make. Then we decided to leave, and a little shit of a kid ran up to it and started to jump on it and ruin it! Oh, was I pissed. I noticed he had been digging a huge hole in the sand. I asked him if it was his hole. He said yes. So, I walked right on over and filled it back up! Revenge. I still remember his face of disbelief. You ruin my work of art, I'll do it back! Hahaha. We rode down to the general market, and stocked up on Archie comic books and smores stuff. We were obsessed with Archie. I think we bought them out. We got home, and boy, was Nana mad! We were gone way to long and she was worried. She grounded us. That made us mad. I think we made her cry. In retrospect, we were little brats! But, overall, it was a good weekend.
I went back there a few years ago, and Lilli got to see the 'ol beach house. It was nice to share it with her and show her the things I used to see/do when I was little. It's different going back as an adult. Perhaps I'll brave it one day when she's older...but road trips can have their moments! Maybe I'll invest in a car that has one of those fancy DVD players. How far cars have come. All we had was car bingo and Walkmans. I could only listen to so much Paula Abdul trying to block out my dad singing The Bear Went Over the Mountain. I will always remember those trips though. There's a little beach house in my heart. :)
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