The High Life

Just when I thought no prospective dates were on the horizon, I met a gentleman (We'll call him "Bob") at Market Street Grill in Salt Lake. I was dining with my girlfriends, when I went to the bar to ask for change. He casually complimented me on my red hair and I smiled and gave a polite nod.

He seemed too old for me, so I brushed him off. "Bob" was persistent.

He shot out a barrage of questions. I laughed and decided, why not? Come to find out he was really intelligent and well-spoken. He spoke about the art world fluently and loved to travel-all my similar interests. Refreshing. So I gave him my number and returned to my friends, who probably thought I had deserted them.

Bob called the next day, which happened to be a Saturday and wanted to know if I would join him for drinks at Waldorf Astoria Spa and then a concert at the Canyons in Park City. It was hot outside and the pool/ alcholol was too good to pass up. And I wanted to know more about him-Bob was intriguing.

As I rushed from work to my car, I noticed a red spray on my windshield. I paused in alarm. Was that blood? I cautiously approached my car. It was in the inside! I immediately opened the door to see all the crimson red on the dashboard, the windshield, the stick shift, and a pool of red in the passenger seat.

It wasn't blood, but my cherry Dr. Pepper.

It had exploded in a rage about being left in a hot car. I thought the caffeine pick me up would be nice for later...but not this way. Realizing I was going to be late for my date, I figured I would deal with this fiasco later.

My tires screamed into the parking lot of the Waldorf. Bob had instructed me to just valet park. Engrossed in my latest rap CD, yes rap, I glanced over to reality.

My red reality. Oh no!

These valets are going to think I killed a small animal in my car. The only solution was to act casual-maybe they would not notice, or I could put my McDonalds trash over the puddle.

Yes! That would do! High class all the way.

Bob was waiting in the spa entry and smoothly greeted me.

The spa was clean, quiet, and cool. The director gave us a tour and I admired the live plants growing on the walls mixed with the smooth counter tops and soft white cushioned couches. Perfectly placed on the counters were hard back books of architecture, modern art, and other affluent topics. I thought to myself, I could just stay here for awhile and never leave....my new home.

In the ladies locker room I wondered around sniffing the free bottles of deodorant, shampoo, lotion, and assorted toiletries.

This locker room seemed too nice. I didn't want to take my clothes off.

Just as I was taking my swimsuit out of my grocery store plastic bag-my way of recycling, the spa attendant walked in.

She stared for a moment and gave me this....smile.

She continued her forced smile as she explained there was a fee for using the spa.

I laughed and said, "No worries, I'm with a member. "

She smiled again, this time firmly folding her arms.

She asked, "Under what name are they listed?"

I nervously laughed again and realized I had completely forgotten my dates name. Shoot!

I frantically laughed again, worrying she would pick me up and toss me out, plastic bag and all.

Then I confidently said "Bob Idol". She nodded and quickly left. I thought Good! Go check! I'm on the list! Big stinker.

After a few minutes and successfully putting on my swimsuit, the attendant came back. Same forced smile to report that I was indeed on the list. Ha! I gave my own forced smile. She demostrated how to use the locker and explained how to get to the pool.

I noticed a white robe in the locker and asked, "Do I wear that out to the pool?"

She smiled. Again. "No, that's for people getting treatments. "

I walked through the empty carpeted corridor towards the gleaming afternoon sun coming through the exit.

As the door swung open, to my horror I saw everyone enjoying their afternoon cocktails.

All in white robes.

In all my glory I stood in my suit for everyone to behold, with a knee-jerk reaction to suck in my stomach, and a strong pang of regret about the burrito I had eaten earlier.

I had two choices: scurry quickly by acknowledging my shame, or act like my lack of robe was intentional.

It was go time.

I chose to "rock it". I walked out and right to my smiling date. Who laughed and quickly asked "Where is your robe". Oh I didn't feel I needed one. Damn that spa attendant.

We laughed by the pool drinking raspberry mojitos and talking about all the places he had traveled. he asked me if I wanted to be his "bond girl" and travel with him. Tempting. I could just leave my life and toss all care to the wind. Then what? When he tired of me being his bond girl, what future would I have? Complete dependence-not an option. I had that happened before and was thrown out on my ass. Never again.

As we left the retreat of the spa for dinner on Main Street Bob asked if I wanted to drive because he hated driving at night. I nodded, but then quickly remembered the murder scene in my car. Let's take your car this time. And smiled. The forced smile.

Dinner was a dream. A cool breeze came off the mountain as we ate shrimp skewers on the balcony and talked about his childhood. He asked about mine and somehow the topic came up about my living at home. Bob seemed to have eaten a bad piece of shrimp because he grew quiet and asked for the check. I had become the "Skateboarding" girl.

I swore I heard Bob's tires squeal as he left me standing back at the hotel.

For an instant I felt disgusted with myself. What was my problem? A thirty-one year old back home with her parents.

Then I got angry. No one will ever judge me again. It is my choice. My decision only. I felt a way of guilt when I realized that I had judged the "skateboarding" guy. Karma is a bitch.

I'm happy spending time with my parents again. If you are happy where you are, that's all that matters. A person that really cares for me won't care what I do for a living, where I live, or what I drive....cherry Dr. Pepper and all.

I don't need the high life. Just my life.

The Text Break Up

I received this exact text yesterday.

"I can take a hint. I'm out! Take care."

I was shocked to hear my phone beep and be greeted with this defiant message. Instantly offended I became angry that he would not even bother to call. Then I thought, wait....

Were we EVEN dating?

We met online through E Harmony and met over lunch at Jason's Deli. We had chatted on the phone several times from there and then he Facebook friended me. Soon after we grabbed a beer at a bar. We laughed and talked late into the night. Afterwards he walked me to my car and gave me a peck good night.

Then he called a few days after...and well, maybe that's where I became "The Asshole". I didn't return his phone call. I forgot. I was busy with work, art, starting up my business...yadda, yadda. Blah. Blah. You know the usual excuse drill.

Then I get this text. Is he being over dramatic or am I truly "The Asshole" for not returning his call. One ball dropped and I'm out-or he is.

I've been out of the dating scene for awhile and I was told by a bunch of twenty-somethings at a "Glitter Toe" party (a bunch of women get together and paint their toes) that I was indeed "The Asshole" for not immediately returning his call. In this day and age we have all these time frames to answer face book comments, calls, e-mails, and texts. I can't keep up!

I guess if one missed call means I'm out of this non-relationship, so be it. I just drove myself down to Starbucks for an iced-chai and now everything is right as rain.

Skating into the Couch Condition

Running late, I dashed into the local coffee shop to meet "Jay", who I had picked up earlier in the week at the art supply store. "Jay" was sensual, the typical artist stereotype; romantic, slightly tormented, and brooding. I loudly explained to the Barista, " I need a sandwich without onions in case I get lucky." Laughing at my own joke, she quickly got the jest and snickered.

We intensely searched the menu, settling on turkey and cheese-a safe bet.

Unfortunately I didn't see my date in the corner, overhearing the whole conversation. Ouch...that may have hurt my chances. Smooth moves!

He was slouched in the corner pretending to stew over a classic novel. I must admit there is something alluring about a man reading a novel.

I smiled as he kindly kept looking down, so as to not acknowledge my previous conversation. "Jay" looked up with a wide charming grin. I gracefully sunk into the couch next to him and quickly noticed he was drinking water out of a camping canister. No coffee? No food?

I politely asked, "Did you order?"

He said "Oh, I ate before I came."

We casually discussed work and the weather, non controversial topics, when my meal arrived. I hate having someone watch me scarf my sandwich, a food item that is always too large to daintily fit into your mouth, so I offered to share. He politely hesitated-then quickly snatched up the sandwich. "Jay" was hungry. Good. A starving artist.

I felt very swanky as we soaked in the environment of a live guitarist strumming outside in the garden area, while we intelligently sat in our black clothing discussing culture.

The age difference started to show when I would say, "When I was your age I was working at such and such", "Or this is how I got started." And then I gave unsolicited advice-my personal favorite.

As we chatted I glanced over to see a skateboard on the ground. In disbelief I innocently asked if it was his skateboard. Maybe someone had left it at the table?

"Yeah", was his quick short reply.

I asked how far he "skated" over (not sure on the correct terminology) and "Jay" said over ten miles or so. I was shocked. But "Jay" said only because he didn't have a car. And that it was hard to sleep on his parents couch while also not having a car too.

Did I hear all this correctly? What?! My mind was spinning. Parents couch? That basically throws any intimacy options out the window. I guess we could always use the classic excuse of "Oh we are just cuddling and watching a movie". Not sure if I could regress back into my high school dating scenarios. I could not see a positive alternative to the couch....back seat of a car....no. Nooo!

While picturing the couch, my mind darted back to the skateboard. We could share it buddy style, frantically kicking our legs as fast as they would go in our acid-washed jeans and matching jacket. Total eighties flashback, but "Jay" was just a baby then, so he would not have shared such a fond memory.

We decided to check out the art walk downtown, so we jumped into my car, but first piled his book bag and skateboard into the backseat.

"Do you mind if I smoke?", he asked after already rolling and lighting a cigarette.

So he smoked. Interesting. I fought the urge to spray Lysol into the air and scream out yet another lecture on the hazards of smoking, especially a non-filtered cigarette.

Down town we strolled into galleries and greeted fellow artists. He saw a friend and they ran up to each other, hugging and rubbing. It was very intense...maybe they hadn't seen each other in awhile? I asked if that was an old friend?

"Jay" replied, "Oh we used to date, but the whole gay thing didn't work for me."

Fascinating. I was hip. I told him I had once danced with a girl, excluding she was my best friend. He nodded his head with a slightly puzzled look.

It was getting late so I said I needed to get home, not realizing he was at least thirty miles from his parents house.

It dawned on me and I stated, "Oh yeah, you don't have a car. I need to drive you home." "Jay" smiled at my clever recognition.

We quietly drove to his parents. Getting out of the car he hugged my head with a light squeeze, smashing my cheeks together, which strangley reminded me of my mother.

We retrieved his skateboard and book bag from the backseat.

After we said our goodbyes I asked myself, maybe an eight year difference is too big? I think so. I'm ready for a family and he's still finding himself.

Right then I came to terms. There would never be any skating off into the sunset.

Where Did I Go?!

My Goodness! I haven't posted in a few days. There goes my damn promise to myself....to post everyday. Shoot! But I do have a date tonight! Yay! So far with him, in all our initial non-date interactions, we just stare at each other. Hmmm.....have to figure out what to talk about? I will have to dig up all of my old jokes, which I am sure will be very clever and impressive-or just scare the Hell out of him.

So many to posts to post! Is it bad that he is about eight years younger than me? When does it start to get pervy? I answer: Probably when I start asking that question! Yikes!

Well my lovely dears, I need to start prepping myself for the date. Hair, makeup, deodorant, and all the other good stuff. Have a fun Friday night!

Make it a Blockbuster Night

Walking through Blockbuster looking for the latest entertaining movie I stumbled across a rare sighting. Luckily I had needed a mental break from myself, so I just so happened to be in the area.

I was walking the aisle and noticed a handsome gentleman (extra spicey hot) looking in the Action section. Action-yes! (In so many ways) Using my laser vision, I quickly assessed no wedding ring. Check. Hmmm...a possibility.

It's the reason I still believe in having an actual movie store and not a Redbox. The movie store is the perfect place to find other singles needing something to do on a Friday night.

Now was my time to shine! The planned approach: slowly move towards his section and come up with some charming movie question. Yes! That would work!

Making my way over....slowly....

slowly...slowly.

Dammit! Too slow! Oh no! He's moving to the front. He's at the register.

I missed my chance.

I walked to the attendant and asked her if he was indeed what I thought he was.

She nodded. "Yes. He is the only single man in North Ogden."

We stared at each other in silent understanding.

The other attendant walked over and said. "I already have him pegged, along with every other woman in North Ogden."

-Competition!

Cold Feet or Wet Feet?

As I was walking through the parking lot, hurrying to work, my foot stepped off the sidewalk onto the lawn. Immediately my foot sunk into the ground. Dammit! Broken sprinkler head, as my leather shoe discovered. I tried desperately to shake off the excess water to no avail. The deed had been done. It was soaked through. Oh well, must continue walking and hopefully get to work early enough for coffee-my main priority.

So basically all day one foot was dry and the other one stayed wet. As I walked around talking to clients the one foot could be heard swooshing and swishing around the room. I overheard one man saying, "What is that noise?", as my wet foot echoed throughout the gallery. I quickly stopped walking, hoping he would not noticed that it was coming from the direction of my feet and then glance down and see that I had one dark shoe. How to explain?

Life can be tough and with one wet foot, it can be even tougher.

Words of Affirmation

I have made a decision. To wake up every morning and think positive thoughts and visualize my future. So, I had the rather brilliant idea(stolen from somewhere I'm sure)of putting up words of affirmation on my wall.

Coloring, cutting, and uniquely designing each word, so that all would be special and positive. As I gently taped up the last artistically crafted word on the wall, "breath", my mother came in and informed me that I had misspelled "breath" and that I needed an "e" at the end. I was quickly deflated, but not defeated. I was not going to let an "e" hold me back! I walked over to my paper and scribbled an "e" out and slapped it on the wall. There! Done at last! My life complete and off to a positive start.

Somewhere in the middle of the night all my tape came loose and my words of affirmation fell on top of me. Not a good sign. I will use push pins the next time around.

Happy Fourth of July

Wanted to wish everyone a very Happy Fourth of July. Hopefully you are enjoying a nice barbecue with family and friends. You just can't beat this weather. I'm working at the gallery today and then running over to Salt Lake for a Plein Air competition. Keeping my fingers crossed that I win the $500 bucks. That would be good. No, actually, excellent! And if I'm lucky, I will find something fun to do afterwards....the night is full of possiblities.