Crime Watch Wednesday - I Can Stroke You But You Can't Stroke Me

This week's Crime Watch Wednesday is a very special edition from my Mom's hood and highlights the unintended consequences of compliments.

A woman reported being assaulted by a bar manager right before closing time. She was stroking his beard and "complimenting" him when he grabbed her breasts and told her they were "nice, too." She slapped him. He slapped her. No one got lucky that night.

What has dating come to these days? A nice gentlemen tries to pay a classy woman a compliment and he gets charged with assault. The nerve! In other news, perhaps it is not the wisest course of action to stroke a man's beard in a bar at 2:00 a.m. when he is probably drunk, you are totally drunk, and wise decisions cannot be made.

Can you imagine the police report on this incident?

We arrived at the local watering hole shortly after closing time on reports of lewd behavior.  Upon entering the bar, we found a man with a scraggly looking beard, like it hadn't been washed in days, and a 50 year old woman in a too low cut top with a large beer stain on it.  When asked for her version of events, the woman stated "I love a man in a beard and told him so. He then tried to feel me up. The nerve!"  The man, when it was his turn, stated "Yo, this woman I wouldn't think about twice was bending over the bar, showing me the goods, stroking my beard and paying me a compliment. So I paid her one back. What's the big deal?"  He may have called her Sugar Tits too.*

In all seriousness, ladies, do not put yourself in a position where you are alone in a bar after it closes.  If you do find yourself in that position, do not stroke anything on a man lest you be stroked in return.  And that is my public service announcment for the week.

*Special shout out to Mel!  Just don't shout back, okay?

Dear B: You Need to Learn to Be a Better Wingman

When I was on the dating scene I had the best wingman. Actually I had a few. We knew what our jobs were as wingmen - RESCUE, RESCUE, RESCUE. This could be in the form of redirecting the attacker, redirecting the situation, taking one for the team, making introductions, etc. You name it, we did it.

WE WERE THERE FOR EACH OTHER.

Now, I am married and I have a built in wingman. Isn't that what a life partner is supposed to do? Support their spouse? Be their backup? I thought so as well. I am here to tell you, however, my wingman is missing a wing or two.

It all started when I somehow became part of the committee to plan my 20 year high school reunion.* I am not entirely sure how this happened other than I responded in a Facebook thread something like "let me know if you need anything" and now I am on a committee of four and responsible for one fourth of the down payment for the hall? Well, then.

Anyhow, the "committee" decided they needed to meet in person to get things rolling. It turns out that the head girl lives just two blocks from me. It also turned out that they wanted to have the meeting at a favorite restaurant of B's.

Perfect.

The Plan

B and I would go have dinner at the restaurant an hour before the meeting was to take place. He would then leave me at the meeting and the girl that lived a couple blocks away would drive me home. I told him to be near his phone in case I needed a rescue. You know, like a wingman.

Perfect.

The Problem

I didn't tell anyone but B about this plan. Therefore, the girl that lived nearby had no clue that I was relying upon her to get me home.

Second problem - two of the four were stay at home moms who hit the jackpot with this meeting in that they could stay out late and drink. Me? I had court in the morning. So as the "meeting" dragged on through multiple glasses of wine and on to coffees with Bailey's, I started to get worried that I would never make it home.

When the head girl decided she was going to read off all 223 names of the people we graduated with to see if we remembered them, the third girl smartly ran off because she had to work in the morning. She was too quick for me. Plus she lived in an entirely different direction.

The Solution

My wingman will save me, I thought. I covertly texted B:

"Can you please come get me?"

This was at 10 pm. The "meeting" started at 7 pm. The coffees were ordered at 10:30. My phone remained silent despite my checking it for messages every 2.3 seconds.

The Result

Over one hour after the original text, B calls. I answer it at the table speaking in code:

B: Why didn't you call me?

Me: Because.

B: I would have came right away.

Me: Can you assist at all?

B: Give me five minutes.

I spent the next 15 trying to figure out how to extract myself from the situation** without being obvious.

I then spent the next 10 minutes berating B's wingman skills. B did make some valuable suggestions such as:

"Why didn't you just tell them you were supposed to call me at X time to pick you up and then call you?"

It was obvious that I was trapped and in unnatural surroundings. The exhuastion of having to pretend I vividly remembered 222 other people, every teacher we ever had, and the last school play took all of my brain cells. B is lucky I remembered his number. Well, actually I am lucky. Also, side note, B does not know my phone number. At all. Wrap your brain around that for a minute.

Anyhow, it's official. B is no wingman. That is why next time I am sending him to the committee meeting as my proxy.

Bet he learns my number after that.

*Damn that makes me sound old!

**Everytime I hear "the situation" in any situation, I think of the Jersey Shore. Damn you MTV with your mindless brainwashing.

Jersey Shore: Where MTV Kills My Brain Cells and My DVR Conspires Against Me

Have you watched MTV's latest show, Jersey Show? If not, you should. Yes, it will feel like you are losing brain cells at a rapid pace, but it will entertain you. Apparently I am late to this train as the show debuted last week with a two hour episode. Lucky for me, however, I have a husband that likes to stay on top of the latest trends and he DVR'd it. Even luckier, I happened to walk into the room in the middle of his viewing. I was transfixed for the next hour. I then ran upstairs to watch the newest episode and to set my DVR to record the entire season. I think I could watch this show on repeat for 24 hours a day, it is so ridiculous. Every viewing brings a new gem. Here are some things I found hilarious/sad/funny/pathetic/intriguing:

• Mike "The Situation" - I still do not understand his nickname, even when it was explained to me. However, it does lend itself to funny sentences such as when the host of the live after show said "Is it okay if I call you Mike? I am not comfortable with The Situation." Ha! Get it?
• All of the boys look the same with various degrees of less attractiveness. That sentence makes about as much sense as The Situation, but if you watch the show you will know exactly what I mean.
• Snickers (real nickname Snooki - but the boys were calling her snickers and it stuck with me) is quickly becoming my favorite character despite the fact that she looked like Barney Rubble in a dress the other day.
• Sometimes I cannot understand a word that is being said.
• What kind of nickname is "JWOWW"? Why the extra "W"? Even better, she uses that when being introduced to people. Side note: From now I am going to be known as DBADD. I will even use it in Court: "Good morning your Honor, DBADD appearing on behalf of the defendant." The other side will shake in their boots.
• Even though all of the girls on the show have made out with all of the boys and some of the girls, they think all other girls the guys pick up are skanks/sluts/whores.
• One guy is always without a shirt. In fact he ran home from the bar because he was "angry" and between reaching the stairs and opening the door, he had taken off his shirt.
• Another guy let a girl take off his shirt in the bar while they were dancing. She then felt ill and left the bar WITH HIS SHIRT. He mysteriously was wearing another one.
• Later, that same guy and girl made out. Actually, HE made out with her as she laid there looking like she was going to pass out. He then inexplicably showed her his penis. It was pierced. She has a boyfriend.
• She had a boyfriend.
• She also has the biggest, most massive fake breasts ever. When she declared "the tits are coming out tonight", she did not lie. She wore the tiniest strips of material that made B and I ponder how much double sided tape was involved.
• Another girl had a boyfriend who got mad that she was living with a bunch of boys so he broke up with her. He is married.
• Snickers has been wanting to have sex since she arrived. She found a friend in a bar and declared him a SURE THING. She brought him home and he puked on her floor. She kicked him out after ordering him to clean it up. She then walked him home. Such a gentleman.
• Some guy got pink eye and showed everyone. The other guy lamented about how contagious it is "you can even get it FROM THE AIR!" Um, wouldn't we all have pink eye then? He also lamented that the guy got it from sticking his face in some girl's @$$.
• Pink eye guy did dive between some woman's legs while "dancing" at the bar after declaring that he liked all women, fat, old or ugly. I am sure that woman feels blessed.

My summary, however, is nothing compared to this cartoon clip I found on You Tube:

Since I first saw this on Thursday, my DVR has taped it EVERY SINGLE DAY. I am not even kidding. I came home Friday at 6 pm and wondered what the DVR was taping - Jersey Shore. I heard the DVR click on Saturday at 2 pm and was puzzled - Jersey Shore. Then on Sunday around noon I noticed the taping light - Jersey Shore! And all were the first episode. This is despite the fact that I told it to only tape NEW episodes.

It's a conspiracy. A guido* conspiracy.

*I assure you that I only use that term because it is used every 5 seconds in the show. In fact, I was not even aware of the term guidette. Now I know. Now you know.

Flashback Friday: The Dating Blues

Recently a woman went on the date of her life. Not in a good way, however. You see, at the end of the date, the guy asked for her car keys because he forgot his wallet and he took off with her car. Carjacked, robbed and stood up all on the same date. Isn't that something? It was the talk of all of the radio stations around here and the DJs asked for callers to give their best "worst date" story. That is when I remembered this:

Flash back about 6 years ago. I was headed out of town to a legal conference with my boss. You will remember him from here. Anyway, at these conferences, vendors would wine and dine us. This time was no exception. One of the vendors set up a dinner and conference at the House of Blues. Sounded like it would be a fantastic time. My boss thought it would be better if I had a date. I really didn't care one way or another, but didn't mind a little adventure. So he called an attorney who he knew in that city and arranged for one of his associates to accompany me to the dinner and a show. We talked before I headed out of town and he seemed normal enough. He was an attorney - meh, but other than that all was well.

On the night of the dinner, many of the attendees and the vendors knew about this setup so all I hoped is that it would not be awkward*. Soon enough he showed up, we found each other and proceeded on our "date." He was nice enough, average looking. During dinner we had some conversation, but mostly it was group conversation. It was a really nice dinner - steak, seafood, appetizers. I recall at the time the talk around the table was about The Passion of the Christ as it had just came out. My date was Jewish. However, I did not sense any uneasiness on his behalf.

Around 10:30 or so, we all headed down to see the concert. I grabbed us a table with some of the other attendees. Then my date said he had to go to the bathroom and would be right back. After he left, I turned to say something to one of the guys at the table when I realized:

...he took his jacket with him...

...to the bathroom...

that man was NOT coming back. I was flabbergasted. Heck, if he wanted to leave, all he had to do was say it was late, he had work, fake a phone call, yawn a lot, but to PRETEND to go to the bathroom never to return? This was an adult!

So I tell the guy at the table what I suspect to be true. Then the vendor host walks by and asks where my date is, so I tell her too. They assure me he will return. No. Nobody takes the coat with them to the bathroom.

He never returned.

I got stood up in the MIDDLE of the date. Classic.

The next day I told my boss who promptly asked what I had did to cause such a thing to occur. Right, because I totally deserved to be left in the House of Blues like that.

I stood my boss up for dinner that night.

What comes around goes around.

*Right now, B is reading this and saying OCKward. He thinks that is how I pronounce it. Now I insist on only pronouncing it with a British accent.

One Step Forward...Thirty Years Back

Remember the double secret blind date guy who had quite the double blind date? Well, he started dating someone new, someone older, someone closer to his age. This is a big thing for him as he typically dates children. However, despite dating someone older and presumably more mature, he still has stories:

DSBDG: So, you know I have been dating that OLD woman.

Me: She is younger than you, right?

DSBDG: Yeah, but she is still an OLD woman. She is in her 50s or something.

Me: But you are still older than her, right?

DSBDG: Whatever. Anyway, we were out the other night and she told me that she wanted me to meet her friend because she thought I would like her.

Me: Wait. Are you still dating this woman?

DSBDG: Yes.

Me: Okay, so she just wants to introduce you to her friends?

DSBDG: Well, kinda, but not really. She said she thought I would like her friend because she was my type and sexy.

Me: Wait. What? Huh?

DSBDG: Yeah, she thought we would hit it off.

Me: Like a threesome?

DSBDG: Unfortunately, no. I think just more of a side thing.

Me: She wants to SHARE you??

DSBDG: I guess.

Me: Um, okay. Since when did you get all Big Love and...ew GROSS.

DSBDG: No Big Love. We aren't getting married.

Me: Whatever makes you happy DSBDG.

DSBDG: Oh, I am happy.

DSBDG: Funny thing though. Last time I dated women whose collective age was 100, I was dating 6 at the same time.

Me: Um, you might want to check your math.

DSBDG: [silence]

Me: 100 divided by 6...

DSBDG: Oh. Yeah. Right.

Lock your children up. At least the female ones.

A Sea of Boxes

In the midst of the renovations which resulted in this:

The basement of the new house went from looking like this:

and this:

To this:

and this:

Then came the arrival of these guys (yes the wall is still that hideous yellow but you will see the transformation in an upcoming post I am sure):

And then, just a few days later, to this:

And this:

And this:

Man we have a lot of stuff! 

This happened in just three short days.  In fact, B's parents remarked about how quickly we had piled stuff up.  I had not realized at the time how quickly we did it, but looking back it does not surprise me. You see, B, is not one to just sit idle.  Every time one of us thought about going to the new house in those three days, our vehicle had to be packed to the brim with boxes.  In fact, for the closing, we both drove separately with vehicles completely packed to the top. It would be the first of many trips in those first few days. It reminds me of when we decided to move in together. I was living in an apartment with a few weeks left on my lease. We made the decision and I decided it was great that I would have a nice long time to pack up and get prepared. Nope! B started moving my "little" stuff the next day.  Whatever wasn't nailed down or did not require heavy lifting was gone.  Finally, after finding him measuring my desk to move and my exclaiming, "but what will I put my computer on if you take THAT", I just broke down, hired a mover, and was out within days.  If not for the refinishing of the floors, I am sure it would be the same now.

Oh, and did we move all of those boxes in nice balmy weather? Of course not.  This is a snapshot of what we experienced:

That's about how I felt too when all was said and done. Good thing I have gloves.

I Can See You Now!

Yes, I got new glasses today.  Well, technically a couple of days before you read this thanks to scheduled posts.  But in any event, why is this so exciting? Well, probably because I have been operating on a 6 year old eyeglass prescription.  Thrifty? Yes. Wise? No.  Probably not even thrifty to be honest.  I typically go through stages where I either wear eye glasses all the time or contacts all the time.  Unfortunately my sensitive eyes can only wear the one day throw away contacts or they get all mad and red and angry.  Hmmm....maybe the glasses are thrifty.  

In any event, I have been wearing my glasses almost daily for the last six months, much to the surprise of B even though he has looked at me every day for those six months.  One day recently he said "So, why did you decide to wear your glasses today?" WHAT?  You mean the glasses I have been wearing every single day?  The glasses that you keep making fun of by putting your finger to your nose and calling me Pointdexter?  What about the time you accidentally knocked them off my face? Did you forget about that?  So observant that one.

Funny thing about the glasses is that when B and I first started dating I was in my "I love wearing my glasses every day phase" and wore them every day at work.  At night or social events, however, I would put contacts in because I felt I looked better.  Thus, whenever I saw B, I was wearing contacts. I do not know if he even knew I had glasses back then.  A coworker told me this was dishonest and that I had to wear my glasses in front of him one day because I wore them every day at work.  Um, they were glasses.  It is not like I had false teeth or something.  Okay, I just grossed myself out with that thought. Anyhow, I eventually wore them and it was not that big of a deal. Obviously. Now he doesn't even notice.

Back to the new glasses.  Amazing what a proper prescription can do especially when you are practically blind.  Immediately upon putting on my new glasses I proclaimed "God these are strong" and got a headache.  Yep, I probably set my eyes back a few years by wearing such an old prescription for the past six months.  

As for the new glasses? They must be a hit as B did not even notice them.  He did look at me funny and when I inquired if he noticed the glasses he said "I thought there was something different about you, but I thought it was your hair."  He then made me go into a well lit room to inspect the new specs.  Success was reached when he declared them "just like the other ones." Great.  $400 well spent.*

This post reminds me of another eyeglass story, aren't you lucky?

I used to go to the same eyeglass place for years. For quite some time there was this girl that worked there. I forget her name so I will call her Michelle.  Well Michelle and I shared the same exact birth day, down to the year I believe. She would remark about this every time I came in.  I am going to have to assume I bought a lot of contacts because I saw her quite often. Anyhow, around the fourth or fifth time seeing her, she somehow got the idea that I was married. I was not.  Rather than correct her, I just let it slide.  Have you ever done that?  Then it gets so involved you are not just letting it slide but actually going with the wrong assumption as if it is correct and adding details? Never happened to you? It happened to me.

Whenever I came in she would ask how my husband was doing - I would make something up.  She would ask what he did - I would make something up. Hell I even made up his name!  She would comment about shopping and spending money and how my husband would probably kill me. "Oh yes," I would declare, "he hates when that happens."  I had totally invented a make believe husband!  

I stopped going to that eyeglass place and forgot all about that girl until one day when my brother and I were strolling through the mall and wandered into an eyeglass place there. Of course Michelle was there. Before we could leave without being spotted, she yelled out to me. Of course she would remember me.  She remarked about how she hadn't seen me.  She remarked about how we shared the same birthdays.

And then she told my husband how wonderful it was to meet him.

My husband.

Also known as my brother.

Who was looking mighty confused at the time.  Rather than try to unravel years of made up stories, fabrications and a make believe husband, I just smiled and said "Yeah, we have to get going" and hustled my brother out of there. After we left, I explained it all to my brother who got a kick out of it but could not believe I had taken it so far.  Why hadn't I corrected her the first time, he asked?

"It just seemed easier not to," I said.

Obviously.

*Why are glasses so frickin' expensive?

You Can B So Judgical

Did you know that judgical is not a word? It sounds like it could be one. Kind of like dramatical which is not a word either.  Go figure.  I knew it was not a word but I ran across it in one of those annoying captcha code things on the internet and just knew it was the perfect word for the title of this post. Plus, I like made up words anyway. Unless they are being used in a professional setting or in a serious manner.

B came home the other night and said "your hair is long, it looks long" with wonderment and amazement in his voice.  Inside my head I yelled "victory!" and raised my arms to the sky.  Well, not really, but inside my head.  Why are we getting excited about my hair? Let me take you back about four years or so...

B and I were dating.  I was in San Antonio on a work trip with my friend E.  For whatever reason, I decided I wanted to cut my hair short. This may have stemmed from the fact that I have super fine baby hair that just lays there and really does not do much else.  But in any event that is what I decided.  E told me I should ask B after all he was "my boyfriend."  Okay. Sure. What the heck. I call B who says "whatever" and "it's your hair." That B. He played things really cool when we were dating. All nonchalant and relaxed.  Actually he is pretty nonchalant and relaxed. Except when it comes to my hair.  But back then? He was playing it cool.

So I cut my hair short. Pretty short in fact.  When my dad picked me up from the airport without any fair warning, his exact words were "wow that's short!" or something to that effect.  B never said a word. It was my hair after all.  This held true when I got highlights. I would get some noncommittal "whatever" before it was done and some throw away comment like "oh that's blond" when it was finished.

Fast forward to six months after we were married.  After growing my hair out for the wedding, I cut it again. B did not say a word.  By now I was used to this and thought "wow, my super cool boyfriend became a super cool fiance and is now a super cool husband."  Until the dreaded day in November...when I cut my hair shorter than it had ever been.   I remember quite well what B said to me before I left:

"Don't come home with a soccer mom hair cut."

But you see, I had a super cool husband who used to be a super cool fiance and before that a super cool boyfriend who didn't care that much about my hair because, after all, it was my hair (which he continued to say while we were married). He was nonchalant and relaxed.  I wanted shorter, cooler hair. Something with pizazz!  Wowza! Or some other crazy zingy word.  Instead I became:

Pat Benetar

I totally had Pat Benetar hair.  I am not kidding.  And I love Pat Benetar.  And I actually loved my hair. The thing is, I did not really look like me which would freak me out when I looked in the mirror sometimes.  Now, when I see pictures I think it was kind of cool (although there are not that many pictures at all). 

B hated it.

Hated it.

Every pent up feeling he had for all of my hair cuts came out in full force.  I had to sit and listen to how he told me not to come back looking like that. And queries as to whether I really liked this hair. And how long until this is fixed? And he cannot believe he let me invite my hairdresser to the wedding celebration in September.  And from there on he was going to go with me to the hairdresser EVERY TIME to insure this didn't happen.

As you can tell, he was no longer nonchalant and relaxed.  He was irrational and ticked off. It probably didn't help that he had to go on our honeymoon with me and my new hair.  Despite the fact that most people loved it (although B swears that they all lied to  me and that only he, the one who truly loved me, would tell the truth), I never quite accepted it either. I did not hate it as much as B did, but it didn't feel like me.  So I decided to grow it out.

That was over one year ago.  

I have not been to the salon in one year for fear that (a) if I trim even one little bit, it will stop growing and (b) B will want to accompany me and demand to talk to the GIRL WHO BUTCHERED HIS WIFE'S HAIR and who really wants THAT scene?  So it has grown. Not as quickly as I had hoped, but we have come a long way baby.   

So when I hear that my hair is long or looks long, yes I consider it a victory.  The longer it grows, the less we are reminded of the Pat Benetar haircut and all is well with the world.  B goes back to being the super cool husband and I go back to being the wife that does not look like a soccer mom.

Now, what color highlights should I try? After all, it IS my hair.  

Fall is the Season for Falling.

This weekend B and I accompanied the family to an old time Halloween trick or treat event. You can see some pictures here.  We walked through the village with all the employees in costumes, some even scary.  And we got to trick or treat - as adults. How fun is that? I wasn't even wearing a costume. I am such a spoil sport.  You can also see the treats we got here.

Now, I must say, my family-in-law is no less warped than I which is why I really love them. Let me give you an example.  My nephew starts crying, probably because he was the only one in costume yet he was stuck in a stroller not able to see a thing.  My brother in law took him out to carry him. My sister in law then pushed an empty stroller - well not entirely empty, full of everyone's trick or treat stash.   We enter a VERY dark drawbridge where we have been told there may be a monster. I don't like that. Monsters are not that big of a deal.  Being jumped at and screamed at in the dark on a bridge scares the bejezus out of me.  So, I tell B that he must hold my arm because I am scared. 

B then proceeds to announce to everyone that I am scared because I do not like drawbridges where you can see in between the panels.  Okay, that is true. But I hadn't even noticed that until he said it. I am sweating right now just thinking about it.  B, fondly remembering the terrifying story I told him about my childhood and how I cried all the way across one of these bridges and almost refused to go back, decided it would be funny to try to TRIP ME!  Are you kidding me? My husband is cruel. Plain and simple.

The best part, however, came upon exiting the dark drawbridge. For some reason everyone was screaming inside the drawbridge for no apparent reason (other than I who was screaming at B for being so cruel) until we exited. Just as the crowd quieted down, my sister in law announced "my baby's gone!" to which we all immediately laughed knowing my brother in law had him.  Those around us were not laughing. In fact, we even got a few dirty looks.  Geez, kind of ruins the whole trick part of trick or treat, don't you think people?

I must say, though, that this event was much better than our trip last Christmas when I did not have long johns, froze my butt off and also tripped and fell - to the ground.  My brother in law was kind enough to tell us to watch our step and remind me of that fall this time around.  I like to think he was being kind and protective. Unlike B who, had he remembered, would have said "don't fall" knowing that I would indeed, fall.  Which all stems from this story:

It was our first year together in the fall. We decided to go on a date to the apple orchard.  B thought it would be a good idea to walk down by the river.  On the way up, for no apparent reason, B said "be careful, don't fall" to which I immediately tripped and fell. In the dirt. Which was wet. And it was raining. I looked like a total disaster.  There have been a couple of times since that episode where I have immediately fallen upon B telling me to "watch out", "be careful" and "don't fall."  It is like some bizarre trigger and he knows it and uses it to his advantage. In fact, he may have said it last year at Christmas.  

I wouldn't put it past him. 

Not So Secret and Not So Blind Update

So, I totally had to change my scheduled post today so I could come back here and update you as to yesterday's events.  After all, at least 3 of you asked. That is demand enough for me.  This is what I got for information on the big "date." 

Day after date:  

I see friend and say "how was the date?" He says "okay."  I express complete and utter shock that there actually was a date.  He just shrugs and says "I'll see her again."  

Day after day after date:

I realize that I am missing a CRUCIAL piece of information - her name.  Would also like to see what other details I can drum up.  So I see friend and have this exchange:

Me:  What was that girl's name?

Friend: Girl? What girl? 

Me: The girl from the other night - your "blind" date.

Friend: Oh you mean the woman?

Me: Sure...whatever...what was her name?

Friend:  Randy

Me: RANDY? Her name is RANDY? She's a guy!

Friend: She spells it with an "i"

Me: I don't care if she spells it with hearts and flowers, she's a guy!

Me: She is SO a guy!! She's a guy!  [This also involved me pointing at him while chanting]

I then turn to a nearby person who is half participating (mainly eavesdropping) in the conversation and say, "She is SO a guy!"  

Friend: No, she is all woman.

Me: She's a dude.

Friend: I am telling you she is all woman, I know.

Me: A boy can buy boobs too you know.

I turn to other person, "It is true, boys can buy boobs. That means NOTHING."

Friend:  I know for a 100% fact that she is a woman*

Me: [speechless]

Me: Oh.

Me: And the date was just okay??

*He knows because he looked at her driver's license. What were YOU thinking?

Double Secret Blind Date

I know you are wondering, how can a blind date be double secret? Isn't a blind date, well, a blind date? The answer of course is no.  Let me fill you in on the double secret blind date of which I just became aware of today.*  A guy I know told me he had a date.  Not that he is an infrequent dater by any means. In fact, he dates a lot. He only tells me about the unusual, unique or downright hilarious ones.  So I brace myself for a doozy of a story. Instead I get a voicemail. His voicemail.  It went something like this:

"Hi Riddler's Friend. You don't know me but a mutual friend told me that I should call you so that we could go out.  I am 5'4, lean, with long blond hair and big boobs. So give me a call."

I decide this is a joke. This is a joke, right? No, says my friend. He insists he talked to this woman on the phone and he is going out with her tonight. During their conversation he found out she is a personal trainer, runs triathlons, and could kick his ass. I am convinced she is a boy.  What he did not find out is (1) who told her to call him and (2) her name. (I don't know how he called her without knowing her name. I presume she just answered).  You heard that right. He is going out with an unnamed woman whom he does not know referred to him by some alleged unnamed friend.  How much more double secret could it get?

Even though he is a boy, I ask him if he is taking a friend, or perhaps a weapon, with him?  He just laughs.  I remind him that (a) she sounds like a boy, or at least a mean-kick-your-ass girl, (b) she can kick his ass and (c) HE DOES NOT KNOW HER NAME.  Really - we may never hear from him again after tonight. He assures me he is going somewhere where he knows a lot of people.  Yep, everyone but her I guess.

And let's get back to the voicemail. Pretend this is real. Who describes themselves like that? Really?  Who says 5'4", lean, long blond hair and BIG BOOBS?  A boob that's who.  Not sure it would be someone I wanted to date. Can you imagine, girls, if a boy called you and said this:

"I am 6'2", athletic, dark hair and I have a big penis."

On second thought, maybe she has the right idea...

*Yep, I just coined the phrase double secret blind date. Feel free to use it in the future. Just don't actually go on one.