Tales of Wit and Charm…

Note to self: It’s flip-flop season, not high-heel season.  I HAVE to start dating shorter men as soon as possible.  My arches will thank me later. 

Last weekend I received an email that shook me to the core. No, not freebie bacon enhanced vitamin water offers, BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE? I would bath in that stuff! It’s funny that for someone who dislikes meat so much (insert your own dirty joke) to love bacon. I pretend it’s made from soybeans–tasty pig-flavored soybeans.

But I digress.

The email was from Flyboy, or Captain America as Rlo nicknamed him. Remember the summer I spend dating him? Me too. Sigh…

I’ve questioned my decisions to break-up with him for two years now. And with just one email I got the closure I needed. Flyboy was deployed to Iraq. Suddenly the future I played out so many times in my head with him was shot down. Just like that.

Death frightens me. It’s just so… you know, final. I know myself well enough to know I’d be a mess the entire time if we had stayed together. A mess that even a good Shiraz and Xanax couldn’t fix. All this time I’ve hated myself for ending things, and now I’m selfishly happy that I did. I’m not strong enough to deal with the fear of someone I love dying, day in, and day out.

I wish him well, and if I knew his girlfriend’s address I’d send her a case of red wine and a bottle of Xanax. She’s going to need it.

After an especially crummy day yesterday, the child guy I’m dating took me to dinner at my favorite pub. Yes, he’s of legal drinking age. Barely. I know I really should have a blog name for him, but I typically use people’s initials and his initials are bad luck for me, and seeing them on a constant basis would make me even more superstitious than I already am.

I don’t recall the exact comment I made, but he called me difficult. Me? Difficult? I should have been more offended than I was, but I’m fully aware of how difficult I can be so I just shook it off.

Later that night, however, I just couldn’t shake his observation. I couldn’t decide if he was calling me difficult in a joking matter, or if he was serious. I called and asked him, “On a scale of one to ten, ten obviously being the highest, how difficult am I?”

Without a moment of hesitation he replied, “I’d say 6.5-7.” I was crushed. Anything above a four is of concern. Then again, I know if I called and asked my mom the same question she would tell me I was of the charts at a 99.5 on a scale of one to ten. Somehow knowing that put it all into perspective and I didn’t take away his Pokemon cards as punishment.

Last night while hanging out at very, VERY young guys house, his roommate walked in. He started to introduce me to the roomie, and everything froze. Shit. This could totally be the end of a good thing. I’m so weird about this, well, and everything really… If he introduced me as someone he’s dating I’d feel too much pressure. Did I mention I’m a total lunatic?

And then I heard the magical words I needed, “This is my friend Sarah.”

Bingo. We’ve got a winner.

I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s done everything right so far. Three tickets to see Wilco: one for me, one for him and one for whomever he’s dating at the time. Calm down, Internet! That’s what I wanted.

In fact the only thing he’s done wrong is being born in the wrong year, and I can’t be too hard on the boy. His age is really his mom’s fault, not his. Seriously, how selfish of her. Is it really too much to ask that she be doing it four years earlier?

I absolutely love Wilco, yet I’ve never heard them play. Sad, right? Not to fret my lovelies, they are coming to SLC this summer!

So when a guy I recently met mentioned buying tickets and having us go together I wasn’t exactly sure how to feel. Obviously it would be fun to go with him, but the concert isn’t until mid-August. The concert will, without a doubt, sell out fast. So do I want to risk saying yes and then if we aren’t still hanging out be stuck without a ticket? Hell to the no. I kid you not about my love of Jeff Tweedy. But then I also don’t want to risk offending him, since he seems like a pretty cool guy. Ahhhhh, what to do??

At dinner last night he mentioned his age. This shouldn’t be a big deal, but I thought he was older than he really is. He’s 28, which is a whopping four years younger than me. FOUR WHOLE YEARS! This guy is a kid; he’s in his 20s!! I’m sure he’d mentioned his age, but as you can see by all my editing mistakes on this blog… I suck with small details. With this newfound knowledge my decision is made: I’m buying my own ticket. I can’t risk him outgrowing me before the concert.

And if that’s not enough to make me a bitchy person, I bring you my latest foot in mouth moment…

Yesterday while getting on the elevator, my CUTE! polka dot shoes nearly made me trip. The two men in the elevator looked at me curiously and I said, “Sorry, it seems like I’m having a gimp day.” Neither man said a word to me, and went back to their conversation.

Two floors later the elevator stopped and they stepped out, one walking with a VERY distinct limp. The other man turned and gave me the look of death. Great. Just great. I’ve moved from offending Republicans to the handicapped.

My internet-hooker friend George came to visit over the weekend, I tried my best to rally and spend some quality time drinking with him at the bar.

Sadly, my “best” is total crap. His last night in town was spent at Red Rock having dinner with a couple of my girlfriends. I wanted to be home and in bed by 10:30 p.m. because apparently I have turned into my grandmother.

As we walked into the restaurant I saw a guy I briefly dated having dinner. I haven’t seen him since I told him via email I didn’t think we should date anymore. Yes, I really AM that girl. Shut up, I had my reasons. And good ones at that, for example he likes NASCAR, which we all know I strongly detest. In addition, he had a tendency to use words on my ‘do not say’ list. The two I couldn’t deal with were: “LOL” and “faggot.” Both words make me cringe to the point of nausea. I tried to get past it, but I couldn’t. The thought of sticking my tongue into a mouth that used either word was more than I could handle.

I know what some of you are thinking, “No wonder she is single, she’s way too picky.” Well guess what, I am picky and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. I refuse to date someone I don’t respect and I can’t respect anyone who uses the “f” word in regular speak. I just can’t, no matter how much fun and nice the person is.

We enjoyed our dinner and I tried not to obsess over it, but I couldn’t help but wonder why I bother dating at all.