Giving and getting.

A friend of mine asked if I would host a charity event to benefit The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society as she knew I could handle myself in that sort of a scenario. It was a speed-dating event held at a popular local pub.

Now, I found it a comical thing for me to be the face of. But I was more than happy to help and had a lot of fun. More importantly, so did the people that participated… and best of all, they could leave feeling great that the money they put forth goes to help this great cause. The other customers at the pub even took part by purchasing raffle tickets, and the management were very generous indeed, both on behalf of the bar and individually.

After it was over, a few of the participants hung around and it was lovely to chat with them. But after cleaning up, as I was heading out, a group of guys that had been there all night, now entertaining one woman, called me over. Having fielded questions all night about the event, I assumed that was what it was why.

Before I continue, I must interject that one of the married guys had interrupted a conversation I was having with this lovely, tiny, woman to see if she’d be willing to come meet his single friend who was interested in her. Yikes.

Now, having joined this group, the one single guy he’d been talking about begins to chat me up. I was having a nice time, but then I knew what kind of woman he liked, right? Über-thin I am not. However, confident I am. Here’s the thing, though. This same gentleman in all politeness tells me that they talked about me. Okay, I figured. But then he sort of concedes that I’m beautiful… after qualifying it with “full-figured.” Hmm.

Can I ask you, what woman would even need, much less want, that qualification? Really? I know what I look like, and I’m more than happy with myself. If you like what you see, then don’t be telling me that I’m “big” or “thick” or “full-figured” or any of that. I’m a WOMAN. I’m beautiful at any size and shape. And I know at any given moment what that size and shape is. Like or leave it, Bubba! Sure I want to be more fit (mostly so I can do my sport again and better), but this is me right now, and I really am all that just like this!

Now, as I was leaving – leaving him wanting more, of course – he asked if he could see me again. Well, sure, okay. I enjoyed talking to him and he really was a gentleman who paid me some lovely, thoughtful compliments along the way. However, on my way home I thought about the fact that he preferred the beautiful, tiny lady, and wondered why I agreed. Eh, cop or not I’d eat him alive really. But maybe I’ll gain a friend.

"Every new friend is a new adventure...
...the start of more memories."

Patrick Lindsay

On how things happen.

Have you ever noticed how nothing happens on it’s own? It’s like a conspiracy of occurrences. Whether good or bad, they run in packs and gang up on you.

I mean, sometimes I’d rather have the lovely things dolled out here and there rather than coming all at once so that you rarely get to enjoy one thing fully. When it’s a painful thing, of course, it’s worse because there is no time to recover strength before the next blow hits.

Why is it, for instance, that I will literally go months without a man taking any real notice, then when I become interested in one I have them crawling out from all sorts of strange places. Some of them are rather tempting and others are, well, anything but, yet there they all are ringing me in the middle of a nice dinner out on my own or texting me sexy things that would normally be quite delightful in different circumstances or from the man I’m wanting.

Or how about when you’re down you get tackled again, then piled up on? Like me recovering from ankle surgery and finding problems with three other places in my body during recovery, not to mention cramps and migraines pairing up on me. Lovely. How about I just get hit by a truck? Again, I mean.

Then there are those rather rare days where the wonderful moments all roll in on top of each other, everything being delicious and delightful. It’s such a fantastic day, but then it is done, and the next day grinds on and on.

I wish we could confront these events and tell them to quit being so cliquish; to make friends with events that they have nothing in common with now and then. But I guess they get what they want and they want tribal attacks. Bastards.

Boys to men.

So I’m a girl who is not, I suppose, actually a girl so much as a woman. I am, however, a kid at heart, loving to play and be silly. I’m a very active person, too. All of this lends to me generally dating men quite a bit younger than I am. Um, like 11 – 16 years younger. (Hey all you teens with incredibly oily skin, don’t you worry – it will pay off as you’ll always look younger than you are... even if it’s mostly because you still have zits at 40. I’m just saying...)

So this time it’s rather nice to be involved with someone who knows how to pay bills on his own, likes a clean space, gets references to 80’s movies, and doesn’t have homework to do before we can hang out! Okay, yes he’s still younger, but it’s a more reasonable range… and hopefully those few years means he can keep up with me!

I mentioned before that he lives quite a distance. I cannot begin to say how frustrating this is… yet making it more bearable is that, as actual adults, we have conversations which aren’t limited to a select few things since he doesn’t feel intimidated by my experience and knowledge. So all-in-all, I’m having a great time! Thanks, Toughguy*!

I did have a story about the last guy I saw regularly. Bookboy* and I have remained friends and go out for a movie and drinks now and then to catch up, so when Christmas came along he gave me a gift. It was a specially made pink, man’s T-shirt that reads, “I ♥ Craig Ferguson.” I sat there wanting to laugh-out-loud thinking, “Is he trying to tell me why we’re no longer dating?” A girl can love in many different ways – he needn’t be threatened! It’d make a good email to Craig, though...

In the end, it was a “good idea, bad idea” kind of thing. It was not very practical as I neither wear pale pink nor men’s wear (and he should have known this, really), though it was thoughtful because I am a huge Ferguson fan. Ferguson’s humor is exactly my speed and style. Bookboy is a Fallon fan. So, actually it does sum up why we’re not together. I am not young-and-hip, am looking for something more than just “cute,” and prefer humor that is off the cuff, clever, and sometimes rather naughty!

* Names have been changed to protect the not-at-all innocent.

(I must end this by saying that though Bookboy and his gift both come off sounding rather bad, he's a good guy and I do like the gift a lot... but what kind of story would this be without poking some fun??)