Saturday, January 21, 2006

Slim Pickins--The Dating Scene at 35

Several nights ago, I sautéed some chicken, garlic, black beans, and mushrooms. Together with the piles of cilantro and fresh, local-made tortillas, I had all the makings of a killer burrito. I also had two discs of Nip/Tuck’s first season, so I settled in for good food and twisted drama.

My cell rang—it was William, the Border Patrol agent I’ve been seeing off and on. Mostly off—he’s confounding, this one. Works ridiculous hours in places where his cellphone doesn’t work. I keep hearing through the grapevine that he’s strongly interested, then I won’t hear from him for ten days. AND he’s moving to Atlanta in April, lucky bastard. What is it with these people?!? There’s always a dealbreaker hidden in there somewhere.

He called because this was the first night off he’s had lately down here in Sierra Vista—evidently, he works in Tucson so much that he spends most of his time there. He has a bottle of wine and wants to know if I’d like to come over and hang out. Sure, why not?

Shannon called as I was on my way out the door. I told her where I was going, and her immediate response was, “Did you shave your legs??”

“Um, no. You think I should?”

Kristen. He’s inviting you over and he has wine. Yeah, he wants some ass. You better just check your situation and go shave your legs.”

I knew she was right. I scurried back to the tub and gave the gams a quick scraping.

William’s house was, for the most part, typical for a single guy—not fully decorated, cluttered (but not dirty), plain. Except, he has spent his disposable income on art. I couldn’t believe it. And it was mostly art I liked. I was impressed.

We went to the video store for a movie—American Splendor, which is great. At the rental counter, the clerk loudly stated that he had a late-fee for some movie whose title escapes me. I stood about six feet away checking out a movie poster, and imitated the clerk’s voice, loudly announcing, “You have a late fee for all that Mexican donkey porn you rented?”

The three other people in the store cracked up and William stopped writing the check to stare at me in disbelief. He didn’t stop laughing until we were back in the car.

Long story short,  I did end up staying the night—hey, the girl’s got needs, too—and I could tell it had been awhile for him. Very aggressive…not that it’s a bad thing. No, not atall.

I left early in the morning and haven’t heard a word since. I’m having a party tonight and I’m not even sure he’s in town. But you know, I’ve reached some conclusions when it comes to Me and Men: despite the often-disappointing dealings with those people, I still take chances and remain as picky as ever. No settling. I may never marry, and I’m okay with that…there’s not much I can do about it, being picky as I am. I’ll just keep taking chances. I even called William myself the first time, figuring I’ve been hit by an IED and gone head-to-head with Infantry Colonels, what’s the worst that could happen?

Monday, January 02, 2006

What I Did for New Year's, A Lugubrious Flashback

Will went to Las Cruces, NM, a trip out to see friends and family that he'd been planning for months. Shannon couldn't find a babysitter. So I joined Gus (biker dude) and Danielle (his wonderful girlfriend) at the Sorry Gulch Saloon. Yes, the one from which I was so unceremoniously ejected last time I went, the biker bar. And so I now have a new Rule: Never Go to the Sorry Gulch Whenever There is a "Band."

They were called Head First, and I knew just from watching them set up that they would suck. I was ready for them to bust into "Sister Christian" from first sight--long, stringy blond hair, rock and roll t-shirts, and a singer who kept switching hats, like this was an awards ceremony and he wanted coverage in People. They kept getting the words wrong. There was intense feedback whenever the Night Ranger-looking guy approached the mike. They played songs the singer didn't know, and so he would lapse into "Ahhlaahlaah, singin'somethinaaahllaaalaaaahhh."

He sounded afflicted. Like someone out of a Diane Arbus photo. And I was hit with the strongest sense of deja' vu I've felt in years. And then I understood--they were exactly the same band as No Comment, the hair band I would sneak out to see with the other high school girls. Well, different guys, but same exact sound and dynamic that so intimidated me in 1986 at a sleazy dive called Ben's and Todd's.

It was out on the Lafayette County line (Mississippi), and there was a cage around the band to catch the beer bottles. It being the 80's, they all sported undersized Spandex tights in neon colors. Bandanas around their heads. Torn up shirts. And I would sit there, all of fifteen years old, terrified someone would talk to me and figure out just HOW underaged I was. Same big-haired, heavy on the makeup crowd as what stood before me in the first moments of 2006, a full twenty years later. Except now, Danielle and I are making fun of this band and some of the white-trashy people up there shakin' it. Or trying to. Good Lord, deliver me from the mullet once and for all.

The other development in my life (besides this Will guy, who works so much I don't think he has time for a girlfriend), is that I nearly had a full-blown breakdown four days ago when I unpacked my scale and climbed on. I swear I almost fainted. So I literally stepped off the scale, changed into workout clothes, and joined a damn good gym. And I'm going religiously, working out like a woman on fire. And rejoining Weight Watchers--that's how bad it was, stepping on that scale. I'm taking steps, though, I will have at least a sizable portion of it off before shorts weather...oh wait, it's 75 degrees here every day, it's already shorts weather. Well, when shorts are unavoidable.