Sandra Dee Dates

For anyone who still reads this...

2007-12-03T11:31:00.000-08:00

... the Reporter and I are getting married on March 1!

One Year Anniversary

2007-01-21T16:48:00.000-08:00

It's hard to believe that exactly one year ago today, Sandra Dee Dates was born.

It began with my exciting adventures in online dating. It ventured into the world of coupledom with Sixty. It detoured into the what-might-have-been with an old flame.

Now it's taken a turn into the world of possibilities with The Reporter.

And what exciting possibilities they might be.

The always awkward "define the relationship" talk was broached this week, and I felt eerily comfortable bringing it up with him.

"I don't want to date anyone else," I said to him while we were on the couch. I couldn't believe the words were so effortlessly coming out of my mouth. And he happily agreed that he was done looking as well.

Maybe it's because this relationship is one of such ease, but who would have thought that such a terrifying, vulnerable conversation could be so simple?

There is even talk of my meeting his parents next weekend. And unlike how it's been with other men that I've seriously dated, I'm completely unafraid of this big step.

Strange as it sounds, I'm actually looking forward to it.

Maybe it's because I'm ready to begin a new chapter with The Reporter. I'm ready to experience a full-fledged, adult-ish relationship with him. I'm excited to be with someone who is so crazy about me and likes me for who I am. I'm ready to strive at making it work with one another.

And for the first time in my life, I'm completely and totally myself with him. That speaks volumes in my books.

So on this one-year anniversary, I'm not looking back on all of the hilarious and horrible dates of the past year.

I'm looking forward to the future with a wonderful man on my arm.

Here's to you, readers. Thanks for a great year!

Hello Long Lost Friends!

2007-01-14T15:43:00.000-08:00

While I'm still not convinced that The Reporter hasn't found my blog, I'm going to blog a little about him anyway.

You know. Because you asked where I've been.

I've been leary to begin blogging again, ever since I discovered what a bitch Google could be. But writing is such a release for me -- and I just adore hearing from you all -- that I could never give it up entirely.

So screw you, Google. I'm bloggin' on.

My New Year's Eve was super. The Reporter had invited me to a party that his friends were putting on. It was considered a "faux formal" -- which meant anything from tuxes and dresses to jeans and fancy shirts. I was a bit leery of going, just because it was going to involve meeting most of his friends.

But I'm so glad that I went. Not only were his friends great, but The Reporter is the epitome of a gentleman. He showed up in a killer suit and brand new shirt and tie, looking nothing short of completely dapper. Not to mention that he remembered that I'm somewhat allergic to flowers -- so he got me chocolates instead.

With reservations for a fancy dinner, he had made all the right moves. And he just made me feel glamorous and ladylike.

And of course, we began the New Year with a kiss, at which I must say he is very good.

Wink.

This last week, however, takes the cake. I wasn't expecting to get to see much of him because not only was I coming down with a cold, but I also had lots of work and a few social engagements to tend to. But we had made plans earlier in the week to watch our boys play basketball on Wednesday, and he agreed to come on over to my house.

With a raging headache, a terrible sore throat and body aches to boot, I show up at the door in sweats and a t-shirt.

We watched a bit of the game -- which was a disaster -- and with my not feeling well, I wasn't expecting him to want to stay around.

What does he do instead?

Cuddles with me on the couch. Tucks me into bed. Brings me food the next night. Tells me I'm beautiful even when I'm sick.

A girl could get used to this.

I think he's keeping me around for a while.

And maybe I like it.

Happy New Year!

2006-12-31T12:57:00.000-08:00

Yes, I have big New Year's Eve plans.

Yes, they are with The Reporter.

Yes, I am excited.

Yehaw.

Happy New Year!

Too Easy to Find

2006-12-27T08:12:00.000-08:00

You all have probably wondered where the last two posts have gone about The Reporter.

I wish I could have kept them up. I wish I could blog about my newest dating adventure.

But alas, Google has found a way to link Sandra Dee Dates to my AIM screen name, my MySpace address and my other blog.

So I'm bound to be found.

Awesome.

So in the meantime, enjoy the other posts, and I'll find something else to blab about.

Cheers!

I'm in love with Boston and New York City.

2006-12-08T07:27:00.000-08:00

My trip to Boston and New York City was a complete and utter fairy tale.

It was my first time in both cities, and it was a bit overwhelming. The buildings were so tall. The people were everywhere. The subways so fast.

But experience was unforgettable.

I give all my thanks to my trip parther, Jeff. I couldn't have done it without him. He kept me grounded and protected me. I felt like a lost puppy dog, wandering around and looking up at all of the buildings and the people. And Jeff kept me on a much-needed leash.

I'm exhausted.

But it's the good kind of exhausted.

I can die happy.

I'm A Crappy Girlfriend

2006-11-20T20:00:00.000-08:00

After reading this, I've decided that I make a crappy girlfriend.

1. I am too nice: Men like bitches. I'm not bitchy. I can't help it; it's just the way I am built. Now don't get me wrong -- I can get mad at the dude just fine. But being bitchy for the sake of being bitchy isn't my thang.

2. I am too accommodating: If they ask me to go camping, I go. If they want to go eat sushi, I go. What can I say? I'm really just that easy to please. Because guess what? Making a fuss over stupid shit like not wanting to go camping is stupid.

3. I fall too hard. And I don't mean down the stairs.

4. I am too giving. I don't mind making dinner for us every once in a while. Wait. Maybe I'm a bad cook, and I don't realize it?...

5. I am a virgin. And I plan on staying that way until I'm married. I'm fairly certain this freaks dudes out.

6. I don't use a tanning bed. Or a nail salon. Or dye in my hair. Or Botox. What you see is what you get.

Excuse me while I go talk to my plants now.

Gentlemen

2006-11-11T19:44:00.000-08:00

It's Friday night, and we're making our way to our favorite bar. Walking up the sidewalk, we see a line outside about 20 people long.

We hear shouting as we get closer. "We can only take 2 more people," the guy checking IDs yells to the people waiting. A loud groan from the line. "Who's up for Eddie's?" my friend Events Coordinator asks.

We all squeal. "Let's do it!" I chime in. News Anchor and Social Worker agree, and the girls and I pile back into the car.

Eddies is a famous bar in town. It's run by a man who is probably 60 years old, and he still bartends the place. I've never been before, but I've heard stories. The girls are regulars there, and besides, who doesn't need to make a few memories? I'm tired of the same ol', same ol' anyway.

Upon arrival, we see the same thing: a line out the door. However, this time we were willing to wait because the bouncer was making room for everyone. IDs in hand, we breeze past the door and inside the building.

Pushing past the shoulder-to-shoulder people, I notice the place is extremely dark, except for the glow of a huge, ghetto jukebox in the corner. Plastered over every square inch of the walls and ceiling are dollar bills that people have autographed. The place smells like an ashtray. Interesting.

Squinting and looking around, I was expecting a nasty crowd of people, considering we were in a shady part of town. However, it was quite the opposite. Everything from boots and belt buckles to metrosexuals. While the atmosphere left something to be desired, I was impressed nonetheless.

We waddle up to the bar and order Eddie's signature drink, The Dirty Lemonade -- beer, orange juice and amaretto -- and grab a tiny table in the back. As we slug down our Dirty Lemonades, my girl friend Social Worker and I decide we're not waiting -- we're getting another beer before it gets any more crowded.

"I can't believe the crowd here!" I exclaim. "You wouldn't expect these types of people at a little whole-in-the-wall place."

"You'd be surprised at who you'd meet here," Social Worker said.

Pushing through to the front, we bump into a group of really drunk dudes. I politely say "excuse me" as the tallest one whips around. During his about-face, he accidentally spills his beer on my chest, right between my breasts. "I'm so sorry!" he apologizes. His friends laugh hysterically. "Let me help you dry that off," he said grinning. He reaches for my boobs, going for the kill.

I gasp, push his hand away and say, "I will knock you to next Tuesday if try that shit with me." He seemed mildly amused by my reaction, and his friend makes an inaudible comment. They laugh again. Glaring at them, I whip around, order my beer, and make my way back to my seat. I couldn't wait to tell the group what had happened.

"The nerve!" I said, telling them the story. "What's happened to all the romantic and polite gentlemen?!" I ask. "That was pretty nervy," Social Worker adds. "Men!" News Anchor exclaims. "Can't live with 'em. Can't kill 'em!" We laugh.

If that incident had happened any where else besides Oklahoma, I might have been worried. Good thing it was probably just a couple of good ol' boys looking for a laugh. Trying to shake it off, I finish my beer. As I look around, I wonder if I can brave the druken perverts for one more trip to the bar. My love for beer overrides my common sense, and I get up to push through one more time.

By this point, it is so packed, I'm practically shoving people out of my way. I get near the front, and a tall, very handsome gentleman with a gotee turns to the side to let me past him. I smile, we lock eyes for a second, and I say a polite "thank you." He smiles. The bar appears through the wall of people. I push money into the bartender's hand while he passes me a Bud Light.

The final challenging walk to the table is ended as I plop down. At least I escaped the perverts, I think. More of our guy friends have joined us at this point, and we're chatting with them about the earlier incident. They're naturally appalled.

Just then, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I am hesitant to turn around. While my first reaction was it was proabaly the Boob Grabber, I was pleasantly surprised.

"Are you here with anyone?"

"Me? Oh goodness, no," I reply, smiling. He extends his hand.

It was the goteed gentleman from a few mintues ago. He is much better looking up closer. "My name is Ned, and I would be very interested in getting to know you outside of this setting."

I blush and cover my face in my hands. Laughing sheepishly, I take his outstretched hand. "Well thank you, Ned. My name is Sandra Dee." He cups my hand with his other hand. I am still blushing. Dammit, I'm never good with this. Thank goodness this bar is dark.

"I don't have my cell phone with me, or I would ask for your phone number. Do you have a business card?" he asks.

I rumage around for my card holder and pull it out. As I write my cell phone number on the back of it, I ask for his card in return. He smiles and hands one to me.

"I look forward to talking with you again and getting to know you better, Sandra Dee," Ned said. "Have a wonderful evening." And with that, he left.

Who said all of the gentlemen were gone?

E-mail Banter

2006-11-08T19:40:00.000-08:00

I had a long discussion about this with my friend over the weekend.

"I've been sitting on Ben's e-mail address for like three weeks now," I told L. "I have been hesitant to contact him because I don't know what I want from it all."

L is full of superior advice. "Just approach it how you would any potential relationship. Just have fun and see where it goes. Don't hold any expectations to it. Just go with the flow, Sandra Dee." She really is my voice of reason.

So the decision was made. I sent an e-mail asking him about typical things. His family. Job. How funny that he was in my best friend's Bible study. Nothing too heavy. I must have read that thing over 246 times, praying long and hard before willing myself to hit "send."

I returned home last night from the Hornets game last night and opened my e-mail. And there is was. An e-mail from him.

His brother is married. His father and mother are semi-retired. He's moving to Tulsa.

Oh. Did I mention he started his own company?

That's right. He started his own company.

Sigh. He was everything I wanted in a mate, and I threw it all away because I wasn't ready for such a serious committment. I wanted to date other people and see what else was out there. And basically what I found was I was always comparing everyone to him. No, he wasn't perfect -- no one is -- but he would have jumped over the moon backwards for me if I'd asked him to.

I couldn't come up with the words to respond last night. It just wasn't coming out the way I wanted it to. I was trying to get something out that was important to me to say.

And that was an apology of how sorry I am about everything.

I have read the thing over 246 times and still can't will myself to hit "send."

Weekend Update

2006-11-05T20:51:00.000-08:00

Friday: Went to work. Was still drunk from Thursday night. Still employed, despite this. Suffered from pounding headache all day.

Saturday: Went to sports bar for the games. Drank two beers. Drove home. Ran red light. Was shocked I did not get pulled over. Came home to go to sleep. Got drug out of bed to go salsa dancing with girlfriends. Got to salsa bar only to discover that we are the only white people there. Go to bathroom. Notice envelopes full of condoms on counter while drying hands. Classy.

Sunday: Got up. Wished I could sleep in. Went to church. Praised some Jesus. Went to the mall. Wrote him an e-mail. Did laundry. Went grocery shopping. Made delicious corn chowder.

What?! Wrote him an e-mail?!!

Stay tuned.

I can't believe I'm actually doing this!

2006-10-29T11:34:00.000-08:00

I just bought plane tickets for my trip!

Who's excited?

Me!

"Zay Bye Bye Cuticlez!"

2006-10-24T18:48:00.000-07:00

It was a first for me.

A gay man held my hand tonight.

After getting off work at a decent hour, I decided a trip to the mall was in order. My fall and winter wardrobe was looking really drab, so I figured some new pants for work and a couple of sweaters were totally deserved.

On the second floor, I struck out in New York and Company, Charlotte Russe and the Gap -- my three favorites -- but decided to head down to the new Macy's. As I traveled down the escalator, a gentleman manning a kiosk had a bottle of lotion in his hands. With two steps to go on the stairway, I decided to skip them and get to the landing quickly in order to avoid him. Those people at the kiosks are creepy.

Damn it. It was too late. He saw me coming, and I was blocked in.

"Doo zee vant to try zee lowzion?" he asked. I giggling at his thick accent, hoping to head on my way to Macy's for a pant-trying-on extravaganza.

As I smiled, shook my head no and waved my hand goodbye, he took my hand and looked at my nails. "Oh oh oh oh oh!," he gasped, his mouth hanging open. "Here! Zou must come!" he cried, pulling me over to his kiosk. With his other arm, he flamboyantly unveiled a station full of salon-type lotions and nail products. "Voila!" he exclaimed. I politely stood there, smiling and waiting for the sales pitch.

"You have zee natural nailz, no?" I politely shook my head yes, and he reached for a nail buffer on the counter. "Vell! Here! Vatch! Zee ridgez in nailz? Zey vill dizappear after zis!" He grabbed my hand, pulled it toward him, and buffed at my thumb. "Zis magic, no?"

"Oh, okay," I said uncomfortably. "That's great. Thanks." As I squirmed under the nail buffer, I couldn't help but think how many germy hands and nails he had already used this contraption on already today. I cringed and tried to wiggle my hand away.

"But vee are not done mizz!" he said, grabbing my hand tighter. "Vee have only juzt started!"

Oh that's super.

"Zee next step," he said, turning over the nail buffer, "iz to shine zee nail!," he stopped buffing. "Zoo have beauuuuutivul eyes, ma'am."

I smiled politely. This was really making me uncomfortable. Plus I'm not stupid. I'm in marketing. I know how this works. Butter up the poor naive girl, hoping she'll buy a damn nail buffer. Well forget it. I'm not biting.

"Time iz almost up, but firzt, it iz time for zee pop quiz!" he exclaimed with a creepy smile on his face. "How many timez vould you zay you do zee nailz? Ehhh, hardly never? Beahh, hardly never? Ceyyy, hardly never? Or deahh, hardly never?"

I glared at him. My nails are very well kept, thankyouverrrrymuch. I trim and file them weekly and even push back my cuticles on a regular basis. However, I never paint them because they always chip and, quite frankly, chipped polish just looks tacky.

"How about E, every once in a while." I said rudely. He laughed, thinking all of this was very humorous, and he reached for a bottle of oil. "How long do zee zink dee nail vill stay shiny like ziz?" he asked.

Before I even had time to answer, he had dropped this oil on my nail and rubbed it around. "Look how zee nail shinez!" he exclaimed. He really must be into this job. He is getting excited about a damn shiny nail for crying out loud.

The next thing you know, he grabs another bottle and squirts two drops onto my cuticles. "Zis oil vill make zee cuticlez dizappear!" he cried. "Zay bye bye cuticlez!"

He paused and looked at me, smiling widely.

I stared back.

"I zaid, 'Zay bye bye cuticles!" he repeated, looking down at my nail.

Oh, you are kidding me. "Zay bye bye cuticles!" he said again, waving at my nails, wanting me to do the same.

That was it. I was done being polite. This dude was weirding me out.

"Thank you sir. This was all very fascinating, but I have to run!" I pulled my hand out of his reach. He followed me protesting, but I beelined it for Macy's. As I got a ways down the isle, I turned around, and he had found another unsuspecting victim. Whew.

No one is going to tell me I don't have nice nails! I have perfectly fine looking nails!, I thought to myself as I tried on slacks in the dressing room of the department store.

But what did I do when I got home?

I trimmed and filed my nails. I even pushed back the cuticles.

If only I could remember where that nail buffer was.

Didn't I tell you I was a mass murderer?

2006-10-19T07:23:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I think I really should just sabotage the date.

You know. Like tell them I'm going through rehab. Or was just released from prison. Or better yet, tell them I'm married.

Don't get me wrong. The bowling was fun. But the highly competitive nature of my date was just about all I could handle. He bowls on a league. I didn't know this. "If I get three more strikes, I'll be 60 points ahead of you!" he cheered.

Excuse me? Chill out. This is supposed to be fun. It's called a game.

The conversation was nice. That is, if you like your date to talk all the freaking time. And when I tried to enter something into the conversation, he would interrupt me and finish my sentences.

It was like a race for me to get my words out before he would start talking again.

After two games, I had pretty much had enough, but he wanted to know if I wanted anything to eat. "Where were you wanting to go?" I asked. He wanted to eat at the bowling alley.

Now I'm not above bowling alley food, but it's not the healthiest thing the world, so I told him I wasn't hungry. Plus I just wanted to go home.

"I ate lunch. I'm good," I said. And he acted like he had never heard anyone who had skipped a meal. "You haven't eaten since lunch?" he said. "That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard! And not to mention very unhealthy to skip meals like that. I hope you don't do that all the time!"

Yes, I do skip meals all the time, thankyouverrrrymuch.

He got something to eat anyway.

Did I mention that he picked me up? At my house? This was the first time for him to do this with me. And he brought bottles of wine. I mean, I thought it was nice, but awfully presumptuous. It just looked like he was inviting himself into my house after the bowling.

And that he did. "Let's go in and drink that wine and watch tv," he said.

WHY AM I SO FREAKIN' NICE?! I said yes. I don't know why I said yes, but I did.

We had some nice conversation. Wait. He had some nice conversation, and I did my best to stay awake and listen to him drone on and on and on. That was more like it.

By 11:20, I am just about asleep on the couch. I told him I was getting tired, and said he should probably go.

"Oh, but the Seinfeld reruns come on in 10 minutes! Let's wait and watch that first," he said.

Ah yes. Why didn't I sabotage the date again?

I think I'm going to tell him I'm gay.

Bowling

2006-10-17T08:59:00.000-07:00

I guess the Weatherman had a good time afterall. He sent me an e-mail the day after our first date:

"Hope your day is going well. I had a good time last night. I hope you didn't get too cold out by the lake! But, at least it didn't rain the whole time. If you would like to get together again then maybe we could later on this week or weekend. I hope to hear from you soon."

We are seeing one another again tonight. He wants to go bowling.

That's perfect because those navy and red bowling shoes really bring out my eyes.

The Date was Mostly Sunny with the Possibility of Showers

2006-10-11T10:43:00.000-07:00

Seven-thirty had arrived.

I stepped into the restaurant and looked around. I asked the hostess if she had seen a tall, blonde-haired man come in by himself.

"No ma'am," she replied, so I excused myself to sit in the waiting area for him.

Seven-thirty became 7:35, which quickly became 7:45. We hadn't exchanged phone numbers, so I couldn't call him to make sure he wasn't in a ditch somewhere. I patiently waited.

Just then, the door opened, and I saw him.

He was cute! Actually cuter than his picture, which is completely unheard of! Tonight might not be so bad afterall, I thought. Donning a polo shirt -- tucked in, mind you -- jeans and hiking boots, I was glad I hadn't dressed up much more that I had. I was wearing some bowling shoe-type sneakers, a corduroy jacket and jeans.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized. "I got a little turned around out by one of the docks." I laughed and said I'm glad he made it, and we shook hands. The hostess led us to the table.

We got to talking, and I could tell he was nervous. He hardly looked at me while he answered my questions. I started to recommend the Bloody Mary and get going with our drink orders, but he said, "I'm hungry. How about you?"

"Um," I hesitated. Sure I was hungry, but when you skip drinks and go right to the meal, you have to worry about who pays. And I hate that part. "Um. I could eat, but I had a pretty big lunch, so I won't get too much."

"Well, I'd like to get something to eat if that's all right," he said. I was cool with that, but I apologized for choosing such an expensive restaurant. "I had no idea if we'd want to eat or not," I said. He said it wasn't a problem. We ordered beer. Then he got shrimp and I got soup, figuring if he pays, I wouldn't be getting something too expensive.

We dove into the conversation. And conversate he did. Maaaan, he was Mr. Chatty McChatterson. But that was fine with me -- I don't like being the talkative one all the time. He told me all about his job. His family. His interesting college choices -- University of Hawaii for an oceanography degree and Florida State University for his masters in meteorology.

He certainly was smart. That wasn't an issue. But my next question was: Did he have personality? He made a comment about his working with people in Japan and how he was glad they spoke English. I don't know if it was the way he said it or if it just struck me as funny, but I thought it was hilarious. Definitely a dry sense of humor but had personality none-the-less.

After dinner, he said: "Would you like to get dessert?" I took that as a good sign that he wanted to keep the date going. He ordered, and again asked me if I wanted anything. I said no, but the waitress brought out two spoons. He offered me some, and I took him up on it. And it was really delicious.

The check came, and he didn't hesitate to pick it up, which I thought was really nice. I didn't ever offer, but I thanked him. As he was signing the bill, Uncomfortable Moment Number 1 occurred:

Me: "You know, sometimes first dates are like pulling teeth, but this was really enjoyable."
Him: Makes a scrunched up face like "What the hell are you talking about?"

Awwwwkward.

He quickly changed the subject to how much I thought he should leave as the tip. I said maybe 15 percent. He figured it out, in his head, in about 10 seconds. And I'm not gonna lie. It was totally hot. What can I say? I go for the nerds.

At 9:45, I thought that was going to be the end of the date. "Would you like to take a walk around the lake?" he asked. Oh. I took that as another good sign. "It might be a little chilly out for a walk, don't you think?" I asked.

"Nah. You can wear my jacket if you'd like," he said.

Hmm. Let's recap. Smart. Cute. Personable. Gentlemanly. That's cool.

"That's awfully nice of you. I might take you up on that," I said as we stood up and headed to the door. We stepped outside and walked around by the dock and the boats. We joked around a little and talked our favorite Seinfeld episodes and family vacations. And my hands were jammed into my pockets, I was so cold.

"How about that jacket?" as he took his coat off and put it on me.

About 10:30, I mentioned I was getting a bit sleepy, so I asked if we could call it a night. He said sure and walked me to my car.

I gave him his jacket back, and Uncomfortable Moment Number 2 occurred:

Me: "I had a very nice time. I hope we can do it again soon!"
Him: "Yes, we'll be in touch."

Whaaa? I was a litle offended, but then I remembered we hadn't exchanged phone numbers. Maybe that's why he said that? I guess I will e-mail him tomorrow telling him I had fun and give him my number.

On the chance that I don't ever hear from this meteorologist again, I would say the date was mostly sunny with a chance of showers.

Tomorrow's Forecast: Drinks with a Chance of Hitting It Off

2006-10-09T08:44:00.000-07:00

Drinks tomorrow with the meteorologist.

I suggested that because I didn't have the heart to tell him I haven't ridden a bike in a while.

Besides, it's supposed to rain.

But he probably already knew that.

Short Stories

2006-10-06T11:01:00.000-07:00

The Situation went a little sumpin' like this:

"Sandra Dee! You just need to call him!" my friend said after she called me.

"What did he say to you?" I said.

"He wanted to know all about you," she said. "He said: 'I haven't talked to her in years. What's she doing nowadays?' So I told him about your job and where you were living. Stuff like that. Sandra Dee -- he even had the t-shirt from a date party that you all went to!"

Oh. Well then. It must be fate. Of course.

I don't know, y'all. My friend gave me his phone number. I've been thinking about calling him, but just to catch up. Nothing more.

To be continued.

***

The jinx is cured.

I am meeting the meteorologist sometime next week. No set date yet. He suggested a bike ride and then dinner.

I'm afraid to tell him that the last time I rode my bike, I was about 16.

The lawyer finally written me back and sent his picture. He's cute. I don't care that he's 5'10". He's good looking, and he's a lawyer. And is quite polite in his e-mails, with his calling me "madam" an all.

The Air Force Academy guy? Disappeared. Fine with me.

I say two outta three ain't bad.

***

Last night was spent hanging out with some new friends. We went to a comedy club, and maaaaan, that was some funny stuff.

However, these friends were friends from church. And the comedians were totally raunchy.

Thaaaat was awkward.

We laughed about that afterwards. It's nice to know they're not so high and mighty as to not enjoy a beer and some off-color humor every now and then, eh?

***

Whenever someone asks me what my favorite season is, I always tell them it's football season.

I know I've got a Longhorn fan and a Sooner fan out there, but I'm here to tell you that I'm pulling for Texas.

Me being a Cowpoke and all. And my boys better bring it against K-State, too. Gah.

If only I had a nice brewskie to enjoy with the football this weekend.

Perhaps a trip to the gas station is in order?

The First Love Situation

2006-10-03T19:59:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning, I bounded out of bed for a community-wide rowing competition. No, I wasn't competiting. (Sorry Jamy! Hopefully you'll enjoy the story anyway!) Instead, because my friend was the volunteer coordinator for the event, I had volunteered to run the VIP tent for the special fancy-schmancy donors.

After parking and signing in, I headed to the tent. And guess who was there. Remember the unexpected friend from a few weeks back? Yup. And guess how did he greeted me. With a huge smile and a hug. I really had forgotten about him and how adorable he is.

We didn't get to work the entire time together because he was scheduled to leave just about after I got there. But it was really nice seeing a friend. And his hug didn't hurt things.

In other news, I think my blogging about the online prospects may have jinxed it. I have not heard back from one guy. This online deal is for the birds, I tell you. I would much rather focus on the in-person variety for a while.

Speaking of the in-person variety, I know many of you would like to know more about The First Love Situation, as I like to call it. The Bible study is tomorrow. And I'm so nervous I can hardly talk about it.

I'm nervous that he might have some hateful things to say about me. I'm nervous that he might have some wonderful things to say about me. I'm nervous that he might not want to catch up with one another. I'm nervous that we decided to catch up, and my feelings for him come back. I'm nervous that the feelings don't come back.

Or what if I secretly want the feelings to come back? But do I want him? Or do I just like the cutesy story that it would make? And am I ready to leave my life as a single gal and enter relationship land again?

It was five years ago. He and I are completely different people now Or at least I certainly am. And I'm scared that he might like and remember the girl from five years ago and not the mature woman I am today.

Gah. I am a worry wart.

Prospects and an Oh-My-Gawd Moment

2006-09-28T20:25:00.000-07:00

Because I have some people requesting that my posts be more about boys and less about my life, here is the latest.

I am currently pursuing three men of the online variety:

1. A meteorologist
2. An Air Force Academy graduate turned mechanical engineer
3. A lawyer

Losers, I tell you. LOSERS! (Sarcasm, sarcasm.)

More exciting news, however, about the in-person prospects. (And no, the waiter did not call. I know you are are devistated. I personally am okay with it.)

Last week, my coworkers interviewed a couple of interns and hired them for some part-time help around the office. One of them started yesterday. The other started today.

And the one who started today is a freakin' hottie. Like the he-makes-me-nervous-and-sweaty-to-be-around-him type of hottie.

Now before you all go crazy on me, this dude is my age. So it's not like I'm robbing any craddles or anything. And he's just my type. Tall, lanky, shy and quiet, intelligent, gets my humor and goes to a private Christian university in town. I realize this could be a conflict of interest with him working for us and everything, but who says a girl can't have fun with someone while she's at work, eh? And my married coworkers made sure to get the scoop on him in the relationship department: single. Woo the eff hoo. No boundries, kids.

The other news is completely out of this world. Like a serious Oh-My-Gawd Moment.

So let's go back about 5 years ago to the love of my life. Let's call him Sam. I broke up with him for absolutely no reason whatsoever, other than the fact that I wanted to spread my wings and see what else was out there. And I'm a complete idiot and a jackass because of it. My family loved him, his family loved me. He was wonderful to me and treated me like a queen. I have always regretted breaking up with him, but I can't look back on the past, right? Although part of my always wondered what he was up to or at the very least some "what ifs?" would creep in. But onward, I always told myself.

This morning at work, I'm checking out Facebook and my friend has posted new pictures. They are of her Bible study, and someone is celebrating a birthday. Pictures of the party are in the album.

Then I look a little closer.

It's Sam. He's in her Bible study.

Not to sound weird, but I have done Google searches for this dude, just out of curiousity to find out what happened to him after graduation. Nothing would ever come up. And for him to turn up in her Bible study? I was beyond disbelief.

I called her immediately. "Is this Sam in your Bible study?" I ask.

"Yeah, he's a sweetheart. Why? Do you know him?" I told her the background info.

"That is the craziest thing ever. You so need to get a hold of him. Maybe you could reconect or even catch up or something? Oh let me do some name dropping next time I see him!"

Could a second chance with a love of my life be worth it?

Destination: Beantown and The Big Apple (For the first time ever!)

2006-09-27T20:03:00.000-07:00

I am just about to burst with excitement.

Last May, after graduating from Oklahoma State, my college buddy moved up to Boston to take a job with a Web design company. He left with just about nothing but his clothes on his back, so it's been an adventure to say the least. But he loves living up there, and I've never been to anywhere in the northeast before, so I love hearing about his latest escapades.

Monday night, he and I are chatting, and he mentions that our Cowboy basketball team is playing Syracuse in the Jimmy V Classic in Madison Square Garden in December. This is exciting news, not only because I hadn't seen an Oklahoma State schedule yet, but also because I love a good match up for our boys.

"Do you want to go with me to it?" he asks. This coming from the guy who would camp out before the games just to get student seats on the floor. And he's saying this to a girl who never missed a game and had season tickets every year she was in school.

"Don't you joke about that with me," I said. "Because I would so be there."

"I'm serious," he said. "Come up here and I'll show you around Boston. We'll take in New York City the couple of days before the game."

Kt4*PW!!^&MKo#%!!!

Ahem. Okay. So. Lemme recap. I am:

1. Going to see Boston for the first time ever;
2. Going to see New York City for the first time ever;
3. Going to see my Cowboys play in Madison Square Garden; and
4. Going to visit my good friend.

I think I am seriously going to pee my pants.

The Waiter

2006-09-22T07:09:00.000-07:00

Friday night, I rounded up two of my girlfriends for a night of fun and boozin'. After a long week full of overtime at work and a packed schedule with my civic engagement activities (more on that next time), I certainly needed it.

We had every intention of heading to the bars, when I suggested this place. A live band, some fabulously rich and fruity drinks and some delish food, my girls said "why not?" and we headed that way.

There were surprisingly quite a few people still there at 10:30. We grabbed a tall table near the band and glanced at the drink menu.

"Their signature drink is the best," my friend L said. "And it comes with this little sour gummy thing shaped as a cheeseburger!" We laughed. We also decided on some sweet potato chips to accompany our already calorie-laden evening.

The waiter came over to help us. "What'll it be, ladies?" he asked. And we ordered.

While he was gone, we yelled out our requests to the band, who proceeded to play whatever it was we wanted. As the waiter set down our potato chips and cute fruity drinks, we caught up on our latest escapades.

Both girls being attached -- L to a new love interest and the other, M, to a guy who will marry her after he gets back from in basic training for the army in December -- they gushed about their significant others. I laughed and enjoyed the stories. "And what's your love life like these days, Sandra Dee?" the asked.

"Non-existant," I replied, laughing. "But that's okay. I'm kindof liking it that way. I have so much more time to devote to other things, like you guys!" They laughed.

The waitor asked if we wanted another round. I requested my favorite: Boulevard Wheat with extra lemon, and M ordered some shots for us all. He came back, not only with my beer, but with triple shots for us all.

"What's this?" we asked. "We didn't order triples!"

"The extra is on the house," he said with a grin. I laughed and said "Welp, bottom's up ladies!" and chugged it down. We asked for another round of beer. "Coming right up," he said as he took off toward the kitchen.

By this time, we were just about his only table left. We commented on the cute little gummy burgers that were leftover from our fruity drinks. "They're soooo goooood," I cooed.

"Hang on," he said.

He came back with handfuls of gummy burgers, some sunglasses, and a pig made out of a lemon that he'd made for us. How cute.

We offered him some potato chips, and noticed they were all gone. "Be right back," he said, and he came back with some in a to-go box. All at no charge. "They make a great late-night snack," he said. I laughed.

The band starts playing American Girl, and I'm just drunk enough to enjoy the band's slightly off-key song. I'm singing and swaying even after the music is over, and they tell us it's closing time.

We request our tabs. I throw down a $20 bill, and remember that's all the cash I have on me. So I put it back in my wallet and pull out my debit card.

The waiter gathers up all our money. "I'll be right back," he says. He brings back our tickets, and drops mine in front of me. I sign it, giving him a really good tip.

Then he says something. I don't hear him. I just look up at him and smile.

As he walks off with the signed copy of the ticket, M says "Did you give it to him?"

"Give what to him?" I say.

"Did you give him your phone number?" M says again.

"Oh gosh, no! How embarrassing! He'd probably never call anyway," I laugh.

"Sandra Dee! He asked for it!" L said.

I probably looked like someone splashed cold water on my face. "He did not!" I said, shocked.

"He did too!" M said. "As you were signing your check, he said 'Be sure and put your phone number on there while you're at it!"

"Oh gosh." I was so embarrassed. "Well, I don't have a pen." Both girls reached in their purses and pulled out the necessities, one with pen and the other with paper. Like from a movie, kids.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I said, scratching out my name and 10 digits. I set it next to my place setting, and we get up and walk towards the door.

M turns around. "We had fun! Thanks!" she said to the waiter. He waved.

"And make sure we didn't leave anything on the table, will you?" M added.

I'm still blushing.

Choose Your Own Adventure!

2006-09-16T14:09:00.000-07:00

I'm going to have some fun with this one, and I want you all in on it.

Thursday night, I receive an e-mail from an online prospect:

"Just wanted to say hello and comment on your beautiful smile! From reading your profile you seem very intelligent, humorous, and caring, all of which are important. I would like to know more about you. You may reach me via e-mail at [personal e-mail address]. I look forward to hearing back from you soon!"

Checked out his profile. He was cute and had a lot of things goin' for him, so I wrote him. And today he wrote back.

Now. Here's where it gets good.

I always do a little Google search for guys' personal e-mail addresses, if they give them to me. This is just to ensure that there's nothing out there about them that might mean danger.

And his profile on this came up. He's soliciting sex on another Web site. Awesome. Quite the class act.

So! It's time to have some fun with this! This is wayyy too good just to ignore him and not write him back. But I need suggestions for what to say in my e-mail back to him!

It's time to choose your own adventure!

Do you have any ideas, readers?

*EDIT*

Call me a goodie-two-shoes here, readers, but if this dude's out there looking for some casual sex, he's probably not the type of guy I'm interested in anyway. I am not all about the hit-it-and-quit-it types. I realize I'm making asumptions about him by saying this, but when I am already having my doubts about him going in, why even bother? That's all I'm saying.

And there's no harm in having a bit of fun in the process of blowing him off. :)

Still looking for more imput, guys!

I just coughed up my right lung.

2006-09-12T18:02:00.000-07:00

I hate being sick.

But even worse that that? I hate going to the doctor.

With a board meeting this morning at work, I knew I had to make myself go to the office. So I forced myself out of bed and and into the shower.

And it was pretty much downhill from there. I hacked and coughed all the way to work. And I could hardly get through my board report, doing nothing more than hacking up mucus, drawing attention to the fact that I felt like crap. And when I wasn't talking, I was sneezing and blowing my nose.

Then, with things going so well and all in the board room, I decided it would be a good idea to go out to eat with everyone afterwards. And there I proceeded to cough and hack some more while everyone at the table looked at me like "Don't you dare get me sick."

Back at the office, my boss told me to take the afternoon off. "You'll feel so much better after you take a nap and just rest."

So I got in my car, and went to the mall.

I'm kidding. But I really wanted to. Instead, I decided it was time to go to the doctor. Gah. Did I mention I hat the doctor?

But it really wasn't so bad, especially since he gave me some kick ass drugs.

So I filled the presciptions, got some sick-people food at the grocery store, headed home, took my drugs, and had a wonderful nap.

After which, I proceeded to cough up my right lung.

I hope these kick ass drugs kick in soon.

Isn't the single life fun?

2006-09-09T12:15:00.000-07:00

*If you're here from Grins' Single of the Week site -- welcome! Feel free to shoot me an e-mail or leave me a message. I'm anxious to get to know some new bloggers!*

Exciting stories, people. Gather 'round. I've got a few date prospects in my midst.

Thursday night, I had plans to get together with my new lunch group friends from church. We were going to a country and bluegrass music concert at the local outdoor museum, and I was pumped.

Why?

Okay, okay, okay readers. You've drug it out of me. Remember the guy that I said I just couldn't stop thinking about? I met him in this group.

And I was pretty certain he would be there on Thursday. So I found my best lookin' outfit, did my hair and makeup all cute, and was off for food and fellowship at the concert.

THE story of my LIFE. He wasn't even THERE. Why didn't I just give him my card when I saw him the first time?! I'm such a dork! Hrumph. Whatever. I decided to make the most of my cute outfit and good mood, and just enjoy everyone's company instead. Who needs cute boys?

The next thing I know, here comes an adorable guy -- and he sits down next to me. He's dressed in typical Western attire -- a cowboy hat, Wrangler jeans, and cowboy boots -- and even has a thick southern accent to add to it.

Hellllooooooooo, new friend. Yummy.

He introduced himself. He was in construction management for a while, but now he's a realtor.

I bet he asked me about 50 questions all evening. Does that mean he was into me or just an inquisitive dude? Who knows. All I know is that I was enjoying his company.

At one point, we all gathered together for a picture, and everyone had to move their chairs together to squeeze in. He pushed his around closer to me, the girl snapped the picture, and everyone moved their chairs back to their original positions after the picture was taken -- except this guy. Let's just say that if I hadn't thought he was such a cutie, he would have most definitely been in my personal bubble. And he sat that way for the rest of the evening.

At another point, I was kidding around with him, and he playfully hit me. Twice.

I am so dense about this kind of thing, so maybe this encounter was nothing and I'm reading too much into it. But let's just say this: I'll be excited to get to know more about him.

Isn't the single life fun?

Missed My Chance

2006-09-06T13:50:00.000-07:00

Do you ever come into a situation where you know you should have taken advantage of something, but you never did, and now you are regretting it?

Yeah. Me too.

Geez, I'm a dork.

Why didn't I just give him my card?! Why do I always have to be so old fashioned and nervous about that kind of thing?!