Tuesday, January 10, 2012
If you check out my craft blog at Skitzo Leezra Studio, you'll see baby gifts lovingly handmade by me but what you won't hear from me is how much fun I had at a baby shower because this bitch doesn't go to baby showers. The too-honest personality in my head frankly tells new mothers that I'd rather take an ass beating than to hang with a bunch of yentas telling their horrifying delivery stories. The breeder ladies usually let me off the hook when I promise a cute gift.
"But you would love it!" is usually a cue of the opposite.
Years ago, my friends wanted me to join them in for a male stripper shows. If you really knew me, you'd know I find it morally reprehensible, tacky and besides, I way too cheap to give money to gyrating greasy men. Sex toy parties? No way. Lingerie bridal shower? Don't look for me there. Just because I have a sailor mouth doesn't mean I enjoy tawdry activities, ya skanks.
Alternately, have received pressure to attend an activity of zero interest, be it a pottery party or paint studio party. Being crafty doesn't mean I want to paint-by-the-numbers crap. "I can't attend" becomes "that's not my thing" when met with resistance. Why? Is my rejection a lack of validation for other's good time? Am I such fun that a good time can't be had if I'm not there? Probably.
Let's respect our differences.
Don't wanna go.
Don't make me hurt your feelings.
Sunday, January 08, 2012
Say those words and watch everyone's ears prick up. Prick up? Maybe it's "perk" up. Yes. Perk up. That sounds better. Anywho, heads swing toward your blow hole because no one is immune to the curiosity of your first date pronouncement. While you may suppose it is primarily chick talk, married dudes lean in too, I tell ya. Single guys pretend not too listen except they do.
Years ago, a few friends and I attended a New Orleans singles party hosted by the weekly publication Gambit. The party admission required submission of a free classified ad to promote their new dating section. After a few drinks, we composed somewhat amusing postings and they provided a month's entertainment as we listened to the incoming phone responses and compared notes. One guy left an amazing recording with insight, humor and sensitivity then we realized the very same message was left on each of our accounts. We met and even went out with some of our suitors and we compared notes again.
Agreed: most guys lied about their height, everyone thinks themselves to be "somewhat attractive" and most guys say they'll call when they don't know what else to say.
My red headed New Orleans friend told the most amusing stories about her dating adventures with horrible table manners or awkward first kisses. It became habit for her friends and family to expect an interesting anecdote but when she found a true contender for love, it was difficult for her to resign from the dating story business. Her folks wanted to hear about the embarrassing details but she wanted to cherish and enjoy her new beau.
Rarely do my sister RikkiTikkiTavi and I ever disagree but when she blabbed that I've recently begun dating, a boundary was crossed. Her happiness for me is one thing but my privacy is another althoooooough I'm a super hypocrite because who doesn't love hearing about the entertaining and sometimes amusing trials and tribulations of a single girl dating HOWEVER (comma) I don't like it when it's me. In other words, my life ain't a chick flick.
The questions are from every angle -
Where does he work?
How much money does he make?
How did ya'll meet?
Is he a Christian?
How many times has he been married?
None of your damned business and shut up.
Okay, that said, you don't have my permission to ask about my dating schedule HOWEVER, since you stuck with me this far, I will share a recent story.
You don't get to know his name, where he works or how we met.
We had a great first date where we met at a bar, had a couple drinks and attended a nearby musical performance. We held hands, laughed and shared short kiss at the end of the night. He held the doors and texted me later to make sure I made it home. He said he enjoyed the evening and wanted to get together the same weekend. A few days went by. No call. Sure, I could've texted him but the more time went by, the more I wondered if he was actually interested. Apparently not. Five weeks went by. Then I saw him at my work place. He said his "phone got jacked" thus, he no longer had my cell phone number and couldn't reach me. (Mind you, he knew where I worked.)
"Call my cell number so I'll have your number again," he asked.
Then, "Let's get together this weekend. How about dinner? Do you like Mexican?"
And I never heard from him again.
Dating fucking sucks.
Do you really want to ask me about my dating life? Do you really want to see my disappointment in the one guy I liked who didn't call but the other guys in whom I have no interest but they can't get enough of Skitzo Leezra? It's the same story since junior high.
The concept of arranged marriage has a certain appeal.
Like shit through a straw.