Blog

My misadventures on display for all to read.

Dating Chronicles 1 - Fang, the Chiropractor

Reminder: this is the original email post-date.

Fang, the Handsy Chiro. Source: Built by CatholicGelt

Hello Team Amazons!
I write you from the Marriott Hotel lobby at Kendall Square/MIT. Tonight marks the inaugural date for the How About We challenge that my small group in Boston set up for me. Yes, as Swedish Lief pointed out, my all women Bible study group paid for me to start dating. My assessment is that they are looking for very cheap entertainment and now it's time for the monkey to dance.

Meet Fang. According to his profile, he possesses an infatuation for Jewel. That really sold me off the bat, if selling means slightly gagging because you think Jewel is a tool. However, it says that he a is chiropractor and you all know how much I love young, male chiropractors who use their hands a lot (as Fang mentioned on our date). He actually showed intrigue for a date that I posted: How about we… find an arcade and play Big Buck Hunter. 

Instead, we went to a pool hall, played pool and ate BBQ. There was nothing awkward about Fang, at least in our hour and a half encounter. He hugged at the opening, smiled a lot, asked questions and made small talk. I lost all three games so I had to buy drinks and pay for pool. He bought dinner. However, when everything was going fine, as in, I didn't have to be physical or flirty, he went to show me a pool stroke. Yes, I had to bend over, and then he grabbed my right hip and pulled it in toward him. Then he began to playfully insult me, which meant his game got worse. Then he showed me another move that involved touching my hand. The entire time I kept wondering if that would happen. The wondering definitely got addressed. However, knowing me, this meant I acted more like a tomboy than a tomgirl, i.e. my voice dropped and I acted as if I were hanging out with one of the guys. Yeah, I am such a smooth operator.

Monk Francais exposes my inner agony in her Emmy winning performance as Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series.

On our way out, right before we parted ways, is where it gets really interesting. Consider the fact that he is built like a rugby playing bear, he goes in for a hug. He slams his body into mine and then moans. Yes, he moans. I could see my perplexed face as I had a momentary OBE (out of body experience). We held this hug for about ten seconds, which is the same amount of time it takes a tree to grow in Brooklyn, or it feels like forever for those lost in the analogy. While walking away, Fang says, "Let's do something again soon." I gestured for him to write me, as if typing on a keyboard. What? Yes, this was definitely an asexual encounter of the third kind. All in all, I would say that it was a positive experience since I felt comfortable for 95% of it.

Oh, and the guy who cancelled with the flu wrote me back.* We are going out on Monday. And Sunday I am going out with another man. More to come.

CatholicGelt

My ever seductive How About We profile photo.

My ever seductive How About We profile photo.

*I was supposed to go out on a date, but the guy claimed the flu. I had another date with a different hombre scheduled for that Friday and then a third for that weekend. I may have mastered other areas of my life, but I only possess a GED when it comes to men. That date in kindergarten probably doesn't count.

Don't Look A Gift Horse In The Mouth

unless that's your mouth noshing on a gift horse.

When Swedish Lief moved in, we decided to take our first trip to IKEA, the land of plenty. We dressed in our finest attire. Swedish Lief wore a yellow soccer jersey from Sweden, while I adorned a Heineken t-shirt and white cowboy hat.

First stop: the IKEA cafeteria. We decided to sample all of the basics. Swedish Lief and I put sanity aside for the IKEA demi-gods, DINERA, ASKHOLMEN, nd FARTFULL. We found out that families repeatedly ate at IKEA since they can pay under $10/person for a massive tray of food. Wild to learn that horse meat could be so affordable.*

The IKEA Triple Crown. It's all fun and meatballs, until you find out you ate Hidalgo.

​Once we pownd the meatballs, we packed up the extras to begin our search for Swedish Lief's desk. After about twenty minutes of passing by a dozen fake rooms, I couldn't take it anymore. I seriously zoned out on a bed and Swedish Lief went off on her own. A few customers asked Swedish Lief for directions and price checks because her yellow soccer jersey and jeans matched the IKEA employee uniform. She told me that some of those same customers stared at me, thinking that I needed a store buddy since I had clearly lost my way.

Look, I would expect no less from any of you.  ​All I have to say is that when you are marching around a giant warehouse holding thirty minute old horse balls, you start losing your mind. The balls start to smell and no garbage can in sight is an actual can for garbage. They are props, people. It's all props! You won't find me saddling up to go to IKEA any time soon. I guarantee it!

That's better.​

*No horses were harmed in the making of this meal, or so we assume. The horse scare happened across the pond in February.

**If you would like a recipe for Apple Piebald, I suggest you find a real food recipe at Willow Bird Baking, an award winning food blogger and friend.

In , , , Tags , ,
Comment

Tally's Hookers to the Rescue

Last weekend, Monk Francais visited me and Swedish Lief for a three day trip to Montreal. That trip came to a grinding halt in Gloucester, MA, less than 100 miles from home and within AAA free towing limits.

 

It all began with a late brunch stop over in Newburyport. Swedish Lief witnessed our mixologist pour the vodka for a hefty four seconds before adding the blood orange to my cosmo. Efficient and ideal for a one drink wonder, such as myself. 

After exploring Newburyport, we made our way to the next seaside town. In route, Monk Francais heard a loud grinding near the front, right tire. Playing with death, Swedish Lief violently pumped the breaks three times. That's when the breaks went out completely.

Car still in working order.

Tally's Hookers is a tow truck company that can lift submarines, railway cars, or construction equipment, making our situation look like a first grader's math problem. 

Andrew, our knight in a hoodie sweatshirt, drove the car onto the tow truck, and then the sixty miles to our Boston mechanic.

We rolled into a cell phone dead zone somewhere in Gloucester. Frantically, we divided tasks and tried to find reception. I called the mechanics in Boston. Swedish Lief phoned AAA. Monk Francais researched our next meal. In less than thirty minutes, Tally's Hookers arrived. 

Not an actual reenactment.

Thank the heavens we were only a five minute walk from Halibut Point's oysters and beer, where they charged Swedish Lief $516 for dinner. Any good Jewish Catholic knows an evening spent with Hookers ought to be followed by overpriced shellfish and ale. 

Sons of Anarchy - Call Me #Failure, Maybe

12 oz of happiness and no motorcycle to prove it.

Your Daughter of Anarchy bailed on the moto expo. I found out it cost over $15 and I could not get myself to pay for it. I am sorry. Well, not really sorry to you as much as to myself because of my lack of self control at lunch.

My roommate, Swedish Lief (thanks to CatholcGelt's random name generator) got her car detailed. With two hours to waste and a mealtime to fill, we headed over to a local pub for burgers, a major no-no on my acceptable food list.*

Swedish Lief ordered the mushroom and caramelized burger while I got the jumbo 12 oz. burger with fried jalapenos and fried onions. Plus sweet potato fries, which came on the house since our waiter forgot to include them.

About 6 oz into the meal, my small mouth couldn't handle eating any more meat, bread, or potatoes. It seriously concerned me that I might get locked jaw from this seven inch tall behemoth. My roommate would have no such nonsense. "Eat your pickle. All of it!" For each additional ounce I consumed, my happiness quotient deteriorated in the opposite direction.

To cap it all off, Swedish Lief grabbed the bill and wrote, "Call me, <insert my phone number>" at the bottom. And then made a run for the door. **

*Over the last six months, my strict diet of meat, grass, and no exercise has helped me lose 25 lbs. Please consult your WebMD before following any advice herein as I only take credit for gained weight and gelato-induced bliss.

**I do not condone this behavior, but the waiter made a "that's what she said" joke. And since I laughed, Swedish Lief names this an act of flirtation.