Kiss the Girl

I absolutely love kissing. I’d almost prefer a great kiss to sex itself. I’ve been kissed badly, I’ve been kissed passionately, and I’ve been kissed awkwardly. I’ve had kisses that curled my toes and kisses that nearly turned my stomach.

Here are my most memorable first kisses, from worst to best:

The Tongue
Jeff was a guy I met in high school at a dance. I’m not really sure why I agreed to go out with him because he was very obnoxious. I guess, even back then, I was too nice to turn people down. He called me and asked if I wanted to go to the mall. That sounded innocent enough, right? He picked me up and proceeded to drive down into our local metropolitan park. I asked where we were going and he said he thought we could go for a walk instead. We started walking, and I dumbly failed to realize he was steering me farther away from where other people were. We sat on a log and he started kissing me. If you can imagine kissing a snake, or a lizard, that’s pretty much what it was like. His lips were pressed tightly together and his tongue darted in and out of my mouth like he expected there to be a mousetrap in there. Then he started pushing my head down, and I never realized how strong my neck muscles were until then. Seriously? A blow job in the middle of a crowded park? Not bloody likely, pal. I ended up reluctantly giving him a messy handy j {I think you know what I mean}, and when we headed back to the car, he smiled and said, “You’re a fun girl.” Ummm….thanks? Needless to say, that was my first and last time getting together with him.
This might have been preferable.

The After-School Special
Matt was a guy I knew from a couple of my classes sophomore year in high school. He awkwardly flirted with me, but I didn’t pick up on it. One day after school, I was heading to volleyball practice when I ran into him in the hall. We started talking and walking {in the empty halls} and ended up sitting on the stairs kissing. At this point, I had only been kissed once before, and it was just a quick peck on the lips. Matt moaned as we kissed, which was odd, and he was the first guy to ever French kiss me. After that experience, I swore I’d never do it again because it felt pretty gross to have someone else’s tongue in my mouth {thank goodness I’ve since gotten over that initial revulsion!}. He slid his hands up the back of my shirt, and when I felt his hand reaching for my bra, I backed off. He later asked me to the homecoming dance, but I made up an excuse not to go. I was very inexperienced, and the whole episode scared me off, at least for a little while. I later discovered how nice a good makeout session can be.

The Floridian
The summer I turned 15, I went with my parents on a cruise to the Bahamas. One afternoon, I met Patrick. I had wandered from the sunny deck into one of the bars to get a Coke, and we started talking. After that, my dad referred to him as ‘the wolf’ because it seemed like everywhere we went, Patrick was around {which delighted me but worried my overprotective dad}. We spent a lot of time together over the next couple of days, and on the last night of the cruise, we sat together at a small table, talking. He kept gazing into my eyes, making me blush. We exchanged addresses {too bad that was way before the days of texting and Facebook} and promised to write. He walked me to my cabin, and just when I thought he would walk away, he leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips. It was just the briefest touch of his lips to mine, but it was my very first kiss and I knew I’d never forget it. We actually did keep in touch for a while, lost track of each other, then started talking again when we were both in college…
Can you hear the Love Boat theme song playing?

The Return of the Floridian
In my last year of college, Patrick and I had been talking quite a bit. At one point, he told me he had gotten a free flight anywhere in the continental US because he had been bumped from a flight. I jokingly said, “Well, you could always come see me!” Surprisingly, he thought that was a great idea. I was nervous and excited. We decided that he would fly up that summer, on a weekend when I was supposed to go visit a friend at her lake cottage. Oh…I suppose I should mention that I was dating someone at the time. But things were pretty blah, and there was no way I was passing up an opportunity to see Patrick. I picked him up at the airport and he looked amazing. The same, but much better. When I first met him, he was wiry and somewhat awkward and dorky. But now… Now he was a bit taller, muscular, sexy as hell. We drove to the cottage, catching up, talking, laughing, and I was smitten all over again. The first night, we were all sitting around drinking and having a good time {my friend had invited several other people up that weekend}, when we saw a movement against the curtains. We thought it was a bat but it turned out to be a monarch butterfly. I got it to land on my hand, and Patrick opened the sliding door so I could take it outside. We sat down on the steps, and I was in awe of the fact that this delicate butterfly was so calmly resting on my hand, trusting me not to hurt it. I looked over at Patrick, and he leaned over and kissed me. The whole world ceased to exist. This was what I had wanted since we had met 7 years earlier. We ended up doing much more than kissing that weekend, but then we both had to go back to our lives. A few weeks after that unforgettable weekend, the guy I was dating proposed. I said yes {I guess that’s a story for a later date} and the rest is history. I always thought of Patrick as the one who got away. If only we had lived closer to each other, if only circumstances had been different. If only, if only, if only. We recently got back in touch on Facebook, and he’s a happily married Air Force doctor with two or three kids. Sigh.

Mr. Holiday
During one of my several failed attempts at online dating, I met Charles. He seemed to have his head together. Serious family man, not into playing games, etc. We didn’t talk long before deciding to meet. He was tall, dark, and sexy. When I pulled up, he got the biggest smile on his face. We sat on a bench at a mall, talking for a long time. At one point, he saw someone he knew, and he actually introduced me. That scored big points with me because when I was married, my {now} ex-husband very rarely introduced me to anyone. He’d run into someone and stand there talking for 10 minutes without ever turning and saying, “Oh, this is my wife.” When I got upset about it later, he always said he had forgotten the person’s name who he was talking to. Whatever. Anyway, Charles and I talked for an hour or so, and I had to get going. He walked me to my car, hesitated for a minute, and then proceeded to curl my toes, knock my socks off, and blow my mind. He put his hands on either side of my face, tilted my face up toward his, and kissed me. I can’t begin to tell you how much I love that kind of kiss. So simple, but so amazing. I thought my knees might buckle. I refer to him as Mr. Holiday because he lives here but works out of state. So he’s only here once a month, if that, and often on holidays. So, many times on a particular holiday, I’ve heard from him, asking if I want to get together. Often, I have. There are so many things about him that really appeal to me, but I don’t think he’s emotionally available. He’s got so much on his mind with his kids, various family issues, health issues, and the fact that he works eight hours away. I don’t know if things could ever work out with him in the long run, but I really could see the potential.

Maybe I’m too much of a romantic, but what I dream of, what I long for, is my last first kiss. Something like this or this or this. Until then, there are more frogs out there waiting to be kissed…

S.W.A.K...sealed with a kiss

Next up: The One Who Raised the Bar

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The Boomerang {aka, the one I’m never ever ever getting back together with…like, ever.}

{I must apologize in advance for the length of this one. It’s kind of a complicated story, but one that bears telling.}
I met Todd on a dating site when I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking for. He was good looking but struck me as kind of serious. I can be serious, but I’m pretty lighthearted and tend to laugh a lot. We talked for a while on the phone before deciding to meet.

We had arranged to meet for dinner at a restaurant nearby, and when I got there and saw him, I did something completely out of character for me. I walked right up to him and kissed him. He seemed surprised and didn’t immediately kiss me back, making me feel very foolish. He later said it was because he was catching a quick smoke before I got there and had a mouthful of cigarette smoke. At first glance, he reminded me of Carlton, from Fresh Prince of Bel Air…very straight laced and business-like.

We found a table, and I was amazed at how quickly I felt completely comfortable with him. We were sitting sort of facing each other, and my leg was between his. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. I really wanted to kiss him and told him as much, but he was hesitant because he was still married {separated, but still married} and was worried someone he knew could be around.

After we ate, we decided to go for a drive. Near the restaurant we discovered a small park. We pulled in… and proceeded to make out like teenagers. I couldn’t get enough. At one point, he was kind of on top of me in the front seat, then reached down and reclined the seat. I immediately went from semi-upright to being on my back, and it was so sexy. The logical, grown-up part of my brain was worried that a cop would come by and bust us for public indecency or something. We were both dressed, but still. How embarrassing would that be to get arrested or even fined for making out in a car??

How very, very naughty...

How very, very naughty…

He had me so turned on. I was very close to throwing caution to the wind and letting him take me right there in the front seat of his Corolla. He was rock hard and I wanted him so badly. I don’t know what came over me. I was never that girl who got loose on a first date, but it felt so right with him. Finally, we both knew we better be getting home. We got out of the car for a minute and he pressed me against it, kissing me. I was so turned on, I was half out of my head.

After that night, we tried to see each other whenever we could, but with work schedules and family lives, it was tough. We had some great conversations and could laugh together. We met for lunch a few times and often ended up making out in the car. It was never enough. I wanted him.

We both played hooky and met at a hotel room one afternoon. It felt so illicit, so naughty, so perfect. We had both agreed to take our time, but once we were behind closed doors, alone, all bets were off. Our clothes were off in a matter of minutes. We were all over each other, kissing, touching… It felt so good to finally have him, feel him… We had sex a few times that afternoon and dozed in between, exhausted.

Sex with Todd was unbelievably good. He may have looked like Carlton, but he loved like a wild man. I always thought of him as the male version of ‘lady in the streets, freak in the sheets.’

We saw each other for only a few months when he got some bad news…his company was downsizing and his branch was closing. I tried to be supportive but he was extremely stressed about how to pay his bills and trying not to lose his house, not to mention paying for his kids’ tuition. I was a factor that he just couldn’t deal with and he broke things off. It hurt to know he could walk away from me so easily, but I tried not to dwell on it.

A few months later, he got back in touch with me, saying he missed me. We picked up right where we left off, and it was good, but some of that excitement of a new relationship had faded. It also didn’t help that he was still technically married and was back living with his wife, even though he claimed their relationship was very platonic.

I was in the process of trying to sell my house and was under a huge amount of stress. My ex wasn’t helping at all to get the house ready to list {we both still owned it}. So it fell on me to clean, paint, fix and organize everything myself. My relationship with Todd wasn’t exactly a priority, and I think he felt that. We kind of drifted apart, and I didn’t really mind so much this time.

Several months later, I was messing with my Yahoo account when the messenger box popped up. I hadn’t used it in some time, but back when we were together, Todd and I chatted on it regularly. There was his name, with the little dot next to it, indicating that he was online. I thought about it for a while, and decided to send him a quick message. I just said hello and asked how he was, not knowing if he’d even bother to respond.

He did. We caught up a bit, making small talk, and mentioned maybe meeting for lunch sometime. Weeks went by, and I was busy with work and my new place. We were still chatting online a few times a week, but no solid plans had been made. Finally, one Saturday, we agreed to meet downtown for lunch. I deliberated for a long time over what to wear. I didn’t want to look like I had made an effort for him, but at the same time I wanted to look damn good.

I walked in and gave him a hug. I could tell he was a bit apprehensive, but I acted very casual, as if we were just two friends meeting for lunch who hadn’t seen each other in a while. It was nice to see him, but I didn’t have any expectations of anything more.

He texted me later that day and said he’d wanted to kiss me but didn’t know if I wanted him to. I realized at that moment that I did. We met for dinner a few nights later and this time there was a definite vibe in the air. I could see him looking at me with that same old hunger in his eyes. When he walked me to my car, he kissed me, and it all came flooding back. I didn’t want it to end.

He said he and his wife were again separated, he had gotten an apartment, and they were talking lawyers and divorce. I tried not to get my hopes up. We started seeing each other, yet again, and this time something was different. It all felt brand new…familiar, yet new and exciting. We talked about a future together, how he had planned to just remain alone, but now he really wanted a future with me. I could actually see it…bringing him to family events, going on dates, and having a real relationship. At last, we both seemed to be on the same page.

At first, things were fantastic. The sex was better than ever. We were trying new things, and couldn’t get enough of each other…sexually, anyway. It bothered me that we only saw each other every other week or so. There was no real reason for it. I could understand crazy work schedules, or if he had his kids, etc. But when I brought it up, he said that when he got home at the end of the day, he just fell into his routine of fixing his dinner and getting his clothes ironed for the next day, etc. Seeing me just wasn’t really in that routine. It didn’t seem to bother him that he only saw me occasionally, but I wanted and needed more. I needed to feel like a priority, not a convenience.

Another problem was that he was very cagey about what information he would share with me. To this day, I have no idea if his divorce was ever final because he refused to give me a straight answer.

He was also physically attached to his phone. Any little beep and he had to check it, even if it was just a weather update. He couldn’t understand why I thought that was rude. On one occasion, when I fussed about him checking his phone every 10 seconds, he said he might be getting a text from his kids, and said bluntly, “Yes, I have other priorities that are more important than you.” Funny how spoken words can feel like a slap in the face. I pretty much paid my half of the bill and got up and left at that point. He later apologized but it still stung that he said it at all. He made almost an identical comment a few weeks later, and yet for some reason I still didn’t kick him to the curb.

He claimed to love me, saying he honestly couldn’t see himself with anyone but me. He promised to make more of an effort to see me. He promised that once he had more money {he had picked up a side job to supplement his income} he would take me on a real date. Months went by, and nothing changed. I began to feel sad about the fact that I was apparently not worthy of his time or effort. I was also bothered by the fact that he would mostly just text me. We very rarely spoke on the phone, which struck me as odd since he had his own place. When I was married, I resigned myself to accepting scraps of attention from my {now} ex. It made me sad to realize I was back to square one, accepting scraps from Todd.

But I’m a much different woman than I was when I was married. Then, I accepted scraps because I genuinely didn’t think I could do better. Now, I’ve come to the realization that I’d rather be alone than with the wrong person, and I refuse to settle ever again. I refuse to be with someone just for the sake of being with someone. I have to believe I’m worth more than that.

I think, because certain things about our relationship were so good, I was really trying to make it work with him. Granted, any relationship is gonna take work, but in my opinion, it just shouldn’t be that hard. He said and did things a few times that made me wonder if he was trying to get me to break up with him so he wouldn’t have to do the dirty work.

The last month we were technically a couple {and I say ‘couple’ in the loosest sense of the word}, we never spoke on the phone or even saw each other. We’d had a stupid misunderstanding, and instead of trying to patch things up like we usually did, he turned it into a big issue. We texted back and forth for a month, and finally, on Valentine’s Day, of all days, we broke up. He said some intentionally hurtful things, which I know were said because he, himself, was feeling upset and hurt and was trying to hurt me. I just couldn’t get past that. In any relationship I’ve ever been in, I have never resorted to insults or intentionally hurtful words. But Todd had a way of saying just the right thing to work under my skin like a barb. I refused to stoop to his level, no matter how tempting it was.

And so, as much as it hurt to do it, I walked away from Todd for good, with my dignity intact and trying to convince myself that there was someone out there would see me as worthy of their time. Sometimes he crosses my mind, and I can’t help but wonder if he feels stupid for letting me go, for throwing away something that I think could have been amazing. I’ll probably never know.

Next up: Kiss the Girl

Why I Want to Smack That eHarmony Guy

Despite my early luck in catching the interest of a few guys, I quickly learned that it’s really not an easy thing to do. I work in an office with pretty meager pickings when it comes to guys. They are all a bit too old, or a bit too metrosexual, or a bit too married.

I decided to try online dating because I thought it might be a better way to go. According to the commercials, I could find someone perfect for me. I tried a couple of different free dating sites, and kept running into guys whose idea of getting to know me meant asking about my bra size. I also got messages from many guys who bore an uncanny resemblance to the Unabomber.

Hey ladies, I've got a cave and a case of C-4. Let's do this.

Hey ladies, I’ve got a cave and a case of C-4. Let’s do this.

I finally caved in and paid for a trial membership on eHarmony. I really didn’t like that site because a) you can’t browse. You have to just wait for them to send you matches; and b) the matches they were sending me looked nothing like the physical descriptions I had given as my preference in the very detailed questionnaire they brag about. Once again, I was being paired up with the Unabomber.

So I let that membership end, and I tried the mother of all dating sites — the mecca, if you will. The alpha and the omega… The one that promised to make me as happy {if not happier than} the couples on TV gazing lovingly into each others’ eyes and giving testimony to how they never would have met if not for {trumpet blast} Match.com. My brother met his girlfriend on Match. My ex met his new drill sergeant wife on Match. His little sister met her husband on Match. There had to be something there, right?

The very first guy who contacted me seemed promising… good job, lived fairly close by, nice looking… We chatted online briefly before exchanging numbers. This was exciting! This could be my guy! I could be that girl on the commercials! We started talking, and he asked what my interests were. I gave him my standard response: I like music {most types}, movies {pretty much anything except bloody and/or scary}, reading, going for walks by the lake, blah blah blah. Then I asked him what he liked. He said {and I quote}, “Well, I like those things too. I also like having my bootyhole licked.” Ummm… what? WHAT?? How does one go from musical preference to bootyhole?

He was quite put off when I responded negatively to that comment, saying I was wrong to judge people. Ok, bootyhole guy, you’re right. I shouldn’t have judged you based on your premature sharing of sexual tastes {ugh, pun definitely NOT intended}. But I’ll be honest. Although I do enjoy sex as much as the next person, I don’t want to discuss it in our very first conversation. And really, I don’t know that there’s ever a right time to bring up bootyholes.

I quickly gave up on my trial membership to Match after realizing that although this was a reputable {according to the lovely commercials} site which charged a monthly fee, the guys were mostly just like the ones on the free sites. There had to be someone good out there!

I also quickly learned, from the various sites to which I subscribed at one point or another, that when the questionnaire asks you to describe your physical appearance, apparently it’s ok to embellish. One guy described himself as ‘stocky’ but ended up looking like Fat Bastard. Several guys claimed to be 5’8, but were looking eye to eye with me when we met… and I’m 5’4. One guy left his height out altogether and ended up being nearly 7 feet tall. I felt like a toddler as we followed the hostess to our table at TGIFridays. No, excessive height isn’t a dealbreaker, but the fact that all he was able or willing to discuss was weather and sports kind of was.

There was one guy I started talking to who invited me to meet him for drinks… at a gay bar. When I asked why he chose that place, he said he went there all the time. He accused me of being prejudiced when I seemed a bit put off. I have no problem with people who happen to be gay. It doesn’t define them, anymore than being straight defines me. But if the guy I could potentially be dating is often frequenting a gay bar, I’m kinda thinking I really might not be his type.

I think one of my favorites was the single dad who wanted to bring his toddler son on our first date. He also had one of the oddest natural speaking voices I’ve ever heard. He was a black guy, and I kid you not, he sounded just like Flanders from The Simpsons. I kept expecting him to say, “What can I diddlee do ya for?”

I’ve since given up on online dating. I got tired of rewriting the same answers over and over for my profiles, and I was definitely tired of running into the same brand of perverts and players at every turn.

And so, smug eHarmony guy, you’ve lost your credibility with me. I gave you a shot and you blew it. You promised to study my likes and dislikes and find me Mr. Right. You ignored every hint I gave you on who my perfect guy would be. You blindly threw darts at a board and provided me with plenty of Mr. Wrongs. I think I can safely say that Prince Charming was not on your site — unless, of course, he was cleverly disguised as the Unabomber. Well played, eHarmony guy, well played.

Next up: The Boomerang

Weiner

I met Weiner on a semi-dating, semi-hooking up site I used to be on {in my defense, I thought it was a dating site}. I was really surprised when he started flirting with me, partly because he looked like an all-American guy {which made me think he might be out of my league}, and also because he’s white. The majority of guys who have shown any interest in me since my divorce have been black, so this was unexpected.

We talked on the phone a few times, then met one evening for dinner. He was several years younger than me {am I sensing a pattern?} and his personality made him seem even younger than that. But he was very sweet and we had a nice time. We wandered around this quirky shop that sells all kinds of old vintage toys etc, and then went down the street for some Thai food. After dinner, he walked me to my car, stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, then leaned in for a kiss. It was kind of like this:

Sadly, this is not much of an exaggeration.

Sadly, this is not much of an exaggeration.

He came at me open mouthed, tongue in attack position. The kiss was sloppy and awkward, and when it was over, he smiled and enthusiastically said, “That was nice!” in kind of a Gomer Pyle way. A day or two later, we were talking, and he said, “I bet you’re a good tongue kisser!” Tongue kisser??? Who the hell says that? I said, “Umm, you should know.” He seemed surprised and asked if we had done that. Now, how do you come at someone open mouthed and NOT realize you “tongue kissed” them??

A week later, I agreed to go on another date with him, even though the first date didn’t exactly knock my socks off. Yet another example of me being too nice for my own good. I didn’t have the heart to tell him no, so I decided to give him one more chance. We went to Dave & Buster’s and had a fun time, playing air hockey and video games and getting a bite to eat. At the end of the date, he walked me to my car and we stood there talking for a few minutes. I wish I could remember what we were talking about because for some reason, which could never possibly make sense on a date, he brought up John Wayne Bobbitt {remember him?} by saying, “Remember, he’s that guy whose wife cut off his weiner.” Weiner? First tongue kissing, now weiner? I felt like I was on a date with a nine-year-old.

This time, when he leaned in for a mouth assault kiss, I deflected by leaning in for a hug and I kissed him on the cheek instead. He asked me out a third time, but this time I fibbed and told him that I didn’t think I was ready for a relationship yet. He was sort of understanding.

At some point we had become Facebook friends, and I would see his various postings in my newsfeed. One day, he posted a picture of himself with a blonde, which said, “Me and my new awesome girlfriend, Kelly.” Less than a week later, he announced that he was single again. Not long after that, he started posting about another new girlfriend. A month or so later, that apparently ended badly, and he posted several curse-filled rants about what a horrible person she was. Soon the posts disappeared, and he sent me a message asking if I was single. I lied and told him I was seeing someone.

Within a few weeks, he was posting again about another new girlfriend, and once again, when things went sour, he sent me a message asking if I was still seeing someone. I saw a few of his rants on Facebook, sometimes directed at an ex girlfriend, sometimes at his dad, before I decided this friendship needed to come to an end.

I kind of think Weiner might have been bipolar because he’d be happy-go-lucky one minute, then cursing in all caps the next minute about his father refusing to lend him some money for rent. I’m glad I bailed on that one when I did, or I’m quite sure I would have been the target of his string of obscenities when things ultimately didn’t work out.

One good thing did come of my brief friendship with Weiner. He introduced me to the Shazam app, for which I will always be grateful. I use it nearly every day.

Next up: Why I Want to Smack That eHarmony Guy

Friends Shouldn’t Let Friends Beer Goggle

When I initially decided to tackle this subject, I had a specific story in mind. But something happened last night that I can’t NOT share with you. So today you get a 2-for-1 deal. First things first…

Last night, my friend Stacy and I went to a party. We were both long overdue for a girls’ night out. We knew many of the people there {it was a going away party for a friend}, but there were a few new faces, including two young, nice-looking guys.

At some point, Stacy struck up a conversation with them. They were both cute and somewhat flirtatious. We discovered that they were 19 years old. Oohhh dear.

As I mentioned, we’d had a few drinks and were feeling pretty good, not to mention looking pretty good. We had both dressed up, but everyone else at the party was in jeans. As the night wore on, we found ourselves hanging out more and more with “Chip” and “Chad.” Chip was shorter with a very cute face and always smiling. Chad was tall and goofy and funny, also with a very cute face.

Initially, Stacy had all of their attention, at least partly because… Well, to be honest, they were both admitted boob guys and Stacy’s got me beat in that department. Because they knew we were quite a bit older than they were, they kept saying we could teach them things. How very, very tempting… I jokingly said that Stacy should let Chad motorboat her since he’d likely never been near boobs that big before. She surprisingly obliged {much to Chad’s delight}. Chip whipped his phone out to capture this epic moment, which neither of them are likely to forget anytime soon. Stacy had applied body glitter to her cleavage, so when Chad finally emerged from his journey into her decollatage, his face was covered with the glitter. Possibly my favorite moment of the night.

But gradually, Chad decided I was his date. He kept standing behind me, wrapping his arms around me {did I mention that I LOVE when guys do that?}, and pulling me to him. I could feel his erection pressing against my ass. His hands mischievously kept wandering to my chest, but he announced that I had changed him to a butt man. Score one for the booty! They both kept asking if we could go to a hotel room.

Long story short, nothing happened with these young scamps, aside from some groping and lots of laughing. We were all just having a really good time. Not beer goggling in the traditional sense of the word, but definitely not something either of us would have done sober. Or, at least, I don’t think we would’ve.

I suppose I should mention that Stacy is married. No, she doesn’t run around on her husband, but she is occasionally flirtatious {no harm in that, right?}. On this particular night, she was not happy with hubby and was basically blowing off steam. Hey, it happens.

I also want to mention that Stacy told a bunch of people at the party that when she spreads her legs, diamonds pour out, the sun shines on it, and sometimes there’s a rainbow. Not because it has anything to do with this story, but because it was too awesome not to repeat. Love you, girl.

Now, back to my original tale. Shortly before my divorce was final {as in, less than a month} and a week before my 40th birthday, I went to a party with my friends. As with the Halloween party I mentioned previously, this was a couple of hours from home, so I didn’t know most of the people there.

I’m not usually terribly outgoing when I go to these parties. At that time, I was still pretty new to this whole scene and often just stayed close to my friends. At this party, however, I was in rare form. Maybe it was the giddiness of my divorce FINALLY being over soon, maybe it was because I was about to turn 40, or maybe it was just time for me to cut loose and enjoy myself. Whatever it was, I was ready to mingle.

I was telling random guys that they should buy me drinks since I wouldn’t get to see them on my birthday. Hilarious, since I wouldn’t have seen them anyway, but whatever. Needless to say, I received quite a few free drinks that night, including one from the DJ. I’m normally more of an occasional/social drinker. I might have three or four drinks over the course of the night, and I very, VERY rarely drink enough to get more than a buzz. But this night? I was feeling no pain.

At one point, I noticed a guy who {in my drunken mind} looked just like Cedric the Entertainer, whom I love. I started talking to him, not bothering to remember his real name when he said it, and kept calling him Cedric. He didn’t seem to mind. My friends finally decided it was time for us to leave, so I gave Cedric my number, made him promise to call me, and stumbled out.

A few days later, he called me. He seemed like a really nice guy, and he lived near where the party had been. He wanted to take me out for a belated birthday dinner, so we agreed to meet halfway a few weeks later. He had gotten a motel room {probably wishful thinking on his part}, but I had no intention of staying over.

I got to his room, expecting to walk in and find Cedric the Entertainer.

Yes, please!

Yes, please!

What I walked in and found was more like Fat Albert.

ummm...

ummm…

He was sitting on the side of the bed and didn’t even get up when I walked in. He was easily twice as big as my previously drunken mind had remembered. Now, I’m not opposed to dating a bigger guy. I’m truly not {I’ll get into that later}. But his boobs were bigger than mine {and I’m a double D}. That just ain’t sexy. We talked for a few minutes before leaving for dinner.

After dinner, we went for a walk in the park, and he was bragging the whole time about his expensive cars and his expensive jewelry, and I was tuning out more and more. I really can’t stand bragging. It’s so obnoxious. Honestly, if he’d had a better personality, I might have been able to overlook his size. But I’ve known guys like that before and it’s really a turnoff. We eventually said our goodbyes and I headed home.

My friends are usually pretty good about steering me away from poor judgements. But I admit, I’ve had a few lapses that I’m not proud of. It happens. But you live and you learn and you move on. Preferably with a guy who’s not young enough to be my son or a guy whose bra size puts mine to shame.

Next up: Weiner