Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘steak frites’

Okay, it was Wednesday and totally NOT on the game plan. The day started as normal as most of mine do. My pup was out to meet with her canine boyfriend for a playdate, I had a client meeting, and then after a long look in a mirror, that is when things got interesting. I noticed my grey was more noticeable than my highlights, at least to me. Jesus Christ, time for a hair appointment.

I always forget that my hair stylist  is constantly booked. She IS amazing, but considering I live my life in a constant state of spontaneity, it sucks to have to plan. I also forget that she doesn’t work on the days that are usually best for my schedule. I called the salon and was told that she had some appointments on Saturday. Ugh, the problem with that is this, once you have noticed how bad your hair looks, there is NO going back. You feel awful everyday until it’s rectified. I realized that I would be ending my day a bit earlier than expected so I called to see if there was a way to get squeezed in at some point in the late afternoon. Turns out she had an opening at the end. THANK YOU GOD!

Hmm, so then I started thinking, well damn, my hair looks SO good after a cut and foil, shame to let it go to waste. No, really, it looks HOT. I texted Cooper Fiennes to see what his availability was for drinks after work. Turned out he had a soccer match in the park so he wanted to make it a dinner and drinks scenario later, if that would work for me. Hells yeah!

Now, I don’t have much of an excuse these days to get really sexy. What I do for a living, what I do for fun, it’s all fairly casual. Wednesday night though, I wanted to feel like a sexy woman, so I ran by three resale shops and found a dress that I was semi on the fence about when I tried it on… consider that my legs were furry, my hair still grey and shaggy, and I wasn’t wearing the right undergarments or shoes or makeup. There was SOMETHING about it though. It had this rouching to it that gave the illusion of curves to my no T and no A body…and a neckline that kicked ass! Did I mention it was $24 ?! Score. Maybe it could produce a miracle and make me feel hot even though I was day 4 of my fucking period. So, unfortunately, no sex was on the table. I don’t fuck when I am bleeding.

I had two hours to get my dog home, shave (I know! This girl is having issues affording the professional waxing though), grab my makeup, the shoes, and jewelry and get to the salon for my hair appointment. I decided I would apply the makeup and get dressed after my appointment and then meet him at a local bar. I had considered that it would be hot to do a little role-playing. Pretend we are strangers, etc. Alas, by the time he told me he was headed home to shower after the game and I was still getting my hair trimmed and blown out,I found myself a bit tired, so I decided instead for Starbucks.

As per usual, my stylist did an AMAZING job. I love you, you know who you are and eventually you will read this post, when you have some free time and can catch up! Sadly she ran out the door as I was getting ready in the dressing room, so she missed the final look, but BRAVO! I paid, ran out to CVS to grab some polish and touch up my fingernails since there was no time for a manicure with his arrival in T minus…. x amount of minutes. The nails got painted in an alley way and the iced Americano imbibed while trying to look nonchalant yet sexy while reading the New York Times. I refused to look up at the door each time i heard it open. I hate public transportation because it’s so reliably unpredictable. I made it through all the interesting segments of the Times and was just headed into the mind numbing part when C.F. was standing over me with a grin from ear to ear. When I looked up,” wow”, was the only thing he could say. Yay! Now THAT is the response most girls want when they get sexied up, right?!

We wandered over to a local restaurant that I had previously had really great experiences with. Wednesday night however, I had the waiter from hell. Disinterested, unattractive, unfriendly and just hilariously awful. He didn’t ask what we wanted to drink, he didn’t mention specials, he didn’t say hello, instead, he lumbered over to the table, stood too closely and just stared at us. Umm, ok. I have a food allergy, so I asked him to ask the chef what would be appropriate, instead he told me that I should just tell him what I like, and the chef will make me something special. I don’t want that. I just want to know what 4 dishes on the menu are safe. He should know this automatically. That is HIS job. Anyway, the service just kept getting more and more laughable. I asked for my mussels and my heirloom tomato salad to come together, the salad gets dropped off first. I moved it aside. The other server notices and asks if I want my mussels to come out with C.F’s steak frites. Umm, yeah, that IS why I asked for them together in the first place. After we finished our meals he stood over us and asked,”yeah?” as we looked at the dessert menus. Seriously, Gordon Ramsey would make this fat man cry if he were ever to serve him! At the end, C.F. asked how much we liked him, “10% “, I replied. Then C.F. asked what we were doing next. “Going back to your place?”, I replied with the added stipulation that we could only do 85% because of my bitch ass period.

After an eventful train ride that provided a lot of amusement from the drug and alcohol fueled patrons, we arrived at our stop. I quickly switched from the heels to my flats for the walk to his sublet. The 15 minute walk took 30 because of all of the times he stopped to push me up against a building or tree and kiss me. Awesome awesome. Not complaining about that. Not complaining about the molestation in the elevator or the hallway or even that we weren’t in his place 5 minutes before he had picked me up and thrown me on his bed. Okay. Sure. So, long story short… aside from a 20 minute mood kill when I noticed the lighting in the room shift and glanced behind me to see the computer scrolling through a  photo slide show that was resting at an older fat photo of his best friend, we had 4 hours of total naked hotness. He asked me later how it’s possible that I give such good head, having been a lesbian for 12 years. I replied that it must be kinda like riding a bike… you don’t really forget. He accidently gave me a hickey on my neck (definitely NO dates for a few days. Thank GOD Type Geek is in Europe drinking beer right now and not here!) and I was feeling a little grrrr-umbly about that until I looked at his bed sheets and saw the hand prints. One thumb nail sized hickey versus bloody hand prints? Ha Ha Ha. I think I got the better end of the deal. Obviously I eventually decided to fuck him, regardless of my rule about my period. I looked too good. So did he and honestly, at a certain point… you aren’t feeling self conscious anymore, you just want to fuck. And fuck we did. Thank you my Spaniard friend. I will gladly give up 4 hours of sleep every night to be thrown around by him.

What does everyone think? Do you or don’t you when you or your partner is in period hell?

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

I went out with Type Geek  last night. A rock show and foodie approved dinner. I have a cleanse planned to begin tomorrow so this was to be my last meal and alcoholic beverages for two weeks.

I was running late due to a well-known holder-upper called dog with the suddenly shy bladder (she always does this as I am trying to leave for a date) and a missed train connection. He was even later. He was late the first time we met as well. This is good though. Keeps the pressure off of me for the future, right? I ran over to the local natural food store while waiting for him to arrive and picked up some digestive enzymes to help get me through the cleanse that I am beginning the next day. I walked back over and waited…and waited…and waited. Okay, he was there in ten minutes. It wasn’t that catastrophic.

I had forgotten that he has minor height issues. He’s 5’8″, whatever, I’m shorter than that… except when I wear my 3 inch heeled boots. Oopsie. I am sure he forgave me since I was wearing a dress and femmed myself up for the night. Don’t get me wrong, I am naturally a feminine gal BUT I don’t live in dresses and other than lip gloss and some mascara, I don’t wear a lot of  makeup. So, he got me with tarted up smoky eyes, hair down (I usually stick it up in a twisted knot), in a dress and stockings! He should consider himself lucky.

The host inside gave us a 10 minute estimate and while it was 20 before we sat down, I didn’t feel we waited long for a busy night. The server was cute in a slighty foreign, probably smokes in bed kind of way. A she, by the way. Dark hair, tiny. Cute. The atmosphere was great, chill and quiet with just enough chatter to be interesting. The clientele was young urban hipster with cash. Food was excellent. Type Geek ordered scallops and I went for something uber nom, as I was embarking on a dietary cleanse the next day, I wanted the meal to be something worth having. Mmm nomnomnom mid-rare steak frites with garlic aioli to dip my fries in. I let him choose the wine with one stipulation…no red. I KNOW I was eating steak but I have this issue. If I drink red wine, kool-aid, blue curacao, etc… my mouth turns the color of the drink. Yes, my tongue, my gums, my teeth… it’s awful. It’s not a sexy look for a date. So, I avoid red wine on dates and in public. He did a good job. I can’t remember what he chose, but it was tasty. Big enough to hold up to the steak but delicate enough to not overpower the scallops. Bravo Type Geek!

After dinner we hit the rock show. He wasn’t interested in any of the opening acts so we lingered at dinner… only to get to the show and realize we still had an hour of lingering to be done. Hmm. Do we stay at this bar or walk next door? We went to the Middle Eastern place around the corner that was the site of my dinner with Frenchie. I was nervous I might bump into him, but hopeful as well. While I did NOT bump into Frenchie, I did bump into this cutie I met on the dating sites when I first signed up. We never actually hung out as it was apparent that we weren’t really each other’s type BUT it turned out we had a connection in common. It seemed that I knew his ex-wife vaguely. We had never met though, only chatted on-line/via email. As soon as Type Geek and I made it to the bar at the Middle Eastern restaurant I recognized him at the end of the bar. He looked just like his photos and apparently so did I because we made eye contact and I walked over to say hello. We exchanged pleasantries, hugs, and phone numbers. It was nice to meet him in person, even if nothing was going to come of it.

While Type Geek and I finished our drinks (cider for me, beer for him) we made up stories, theories, conspiracies even, about the people crowded around us in the bar. We lost track of time and suddenly looked at each other with faces that said,”oh shit!”… we then headed over to the show, only missing one song from the headlining act! The band was pretty good. It reminded me of Social Distortion, a teenage favorite that still tugs at my nostalgia strings. We stood in the back and just listened to the band and watched the crowd, feeling too old and responsable, we drank water for the rest of the evening. At one point I needed a pee and so I left T.G. to keep guard over my purse, jacket, and the remainder of the steak, which was to be a special treat for my pup when I got home. One knows to NEVER bring a purse into a public restroom. Unless you want to hold onto it the ENTIRE time you are peeing and washing your hands, it WILL become a magnet for things I cannot pronounce, let alone want to type in this blog. SOOOO, I get in the bathroom, I stand in line, I mind my own business and just as it’s my turn, I notice her. The girl who was sitting on the floor suddenly falls over and begins to pass out. Oh NO, NOT on my watch! So, I forfeit my place in line and get her seated upright, I yell out orders to people around to get her some water, ask a bartender for some chips, bread, SOMETHING to put in her stomach, and most important I keep her talking. I find out enough to direct a staff member to find her friends and then order them to get her home AND make sure she throws up. If they need to stick their fingers down her throat themselves, that girl needed to get rid of some of that alcohol. I can’t even imagine how she feels today. Oh, to be 21. Hmm, or 35… cause wasn’t that me just awhile back? Yeah, in a date’s bathtub. Nice one Student Driver.

Type Geek was curious about why I was gone so long, as it was longer than the usual “long bathroom line for the girls room”. I told him the story and he looked half amused and half concerned for the girl. Since he was used to my prolonged absence at this point, I snuck away for another minute and bought him a vinyl from the merch table. Red Vinyl, sexy, no? He loved it. I can’t do much these days, my business is doing beyond poorly and things are rather grim, even the waxing is off the table for the moment, BUT he did take me to a very nice dinner and a rock show, I figured a $15 collectors vinyl from the show was a fair thank you. After the show let out I looked at the time and let out a very audible,”hmmm, shit”. The trains had stopped running and cabs HATE/often REFUSE to go to my neighborhood. THANK GOD T.G. has a car now!

We walked the half mile to his place and I was curious, what was he thinking of me? I mean, a man doesn’t spend that much on someone they have zero interest in, correct? But, he wasn’t making a move. AT all. I lingered in his apartment, wondering if chatting awhile on the couch might get him to do something. Perhaps it would have IF he hadn’t sat in the chair on the other side of the room. HELLO?!! Am I hot or what?I look just as good up close, better in fact… ahem, cough, cough. I gave up after twenty minutes and we left so he could give me a ride home. I was feeling gratuitous SO I gave him another opening in the car outside my place… alas, nothing. I hugged him goodnight and kissed him on the cheek, which he reacted quite happily to. I had a sudden moment of , fuck this, and grabbed him and kissed him. The verdict? I’ll give him a redo since he was caught off guard. But so far, of the emotionally available men (i.e. anyone other than Brooklyn), Frenchie leads the pack in good kissage. I may run into T.G. at a street fair on Sunday. It’s in his neighborhood, he knows I will be there… we shall see.

Meanwhile, Frenchie…hurry up with that damn paper and make out with me!

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: