I Want A Date!


Not too big a thing to ask now is it?

Actually, I want a date for a particular day, June 9th, 2012.

And, yes, I am more than willing to go on a date before than as well, hell people, it’s only March.  Granted, it feels like it’s the end of March already and how the hell did that happen so fast?

I have to go to the bank tomorrow and withdraw my rent money, just a note to self, while I am thinking on it.  I won’t have another opportunity to do so before rent is due.  I like paying cash too; partially because I think it must be fun to be the other person getting a wad of cash.

Who doesn’t like getting 7 crisp one hundred-dollar bills?

So, there’s time before June, is what I’m getting at, to find a date.   At least I hope the fuck so.

I was sorting through some things today as I was getting ready to swap out the laundry at the mat, it is handy that it is so close, in between I do chores at the casa–garbage, recycling (properly sorted per the landlady’s demands), sweep, sort, etc.  And I stumbled across Fred and Heather’s save the date magnet.

June 9th, 2012, they will be tying the knot.

I am so excited to see them get hitched and really excited to go to the wedding.  I put the magnet on my mini fridge and my brain said, hey, what are you going to wear?

Sweet Baby Jesus.

I responded, “probably not white, now shut up.”

Then, it added, and who the hell are you going to go with?

This may be the better question.  Who the hell indeed.  I mean, I bear you no evil, Calling in the One, but he ain’t nowhere to be seen.  I keep talking about it.  I keep writing down, “I believe my Beloved comes to me now”.  I keep saying, “I open my heart to give and receive love.”

Then the guy with the Colt 45 in a brown bag…

Wait, pause, Colt 45!


Leers at me from the door way of the laundry mat and I’m like, fuck that shit.  Get out my way, I aint’ gonna open my heart to give and receive love with that mother fucker.

Then I try it again, come on, don’t be a sour puss, really, open up your heart to give… and the little Chinese lady pushing her cart smiles at me.  Well, Universe, that’s cute, but I’m not an aging Asian lesbian either.  Maybe she was just being friendly.


I rather had given myself the impression that I would be well on my way to happily married at this point.  But alas, I am not even on my way to going out on a date with anyone.

I don’t blame the Universe and I don’t blame the book, I don’t even blame me any more.  Does not work.  But I would like to go out on a date, that’d be fun.  And although I had a really fun time at the last wedding I went to, Alex and Shannon’s, I don’t want to go stag again.

I really don’t.

Speaking of the newly weds, six month anniversary, what?! Congrats you old married couple!

I got to see Shannon today.  It was lovely.  She picked me up after I got done with my speaking engagement and we went to Nordie’s Rack and Bed, Bath, and Beyond, and Trader Joes.

Having had wet feet yesterday for a good long part of the day I was pretty set on finding some rain boots.  I was on ebay last night too checking out stuff, but I could not quite pull the trigger.  Something about ordering shoes that I can’t try on makes me a little nervous.

So, when Shannon suggested a trip to the market I leapt.  She went to Bed, Bath, and I dashed over to Nordies.

“Nice rain boots.”



I laughed and slid my foot out of the Marni high-heeled platform, it was on sale!  Yes, I know, it was still $400, but it was on sale!


Ok, go look at the galoshes.

Oooh.  Those are cute.

I put it on my foot.  It was no longer cute.  Good lord, I love you, and I love my beautiful body, but what the hell.  Did you have to bless me with size eleven feet?  Come on dude.

Sometimes I believe that I know how the platypus feels.  Like God just played a big, pun intended, joke on me.  “You’re so cute, now let’s put clown feet on you!”

Rain boots in size eleven are not longer cute.  I think the threshold for feet looking cute in rain boots is about a size 9.  I tried them all on, they all made me cringe.  I went back to trying on really expensive platform heels.

You never know when I will need them to wear to work.

At the bike shop.

Ah Fuck.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said to Shannon, “before I do something stupid.”

We went to Trader Joes, which was its own form of stupid, on a late Sunday afternoon as everyone in the city was in trying to hunter/gather/forage food for dinner and to take to lunch tomorrow for work.  Good lord.

But, I was happy as a clam. I got a huge package of toilet paper!

Hey, shut it.  Getting a big bundle of toilet paper makes a person’s day, especially when I don’t have to try to get it strapped into my messenger bag and home on my bike.  It’s not that it’s heavy, it’s just awkward. But I did not have to worry about awkward.  I had a ride.

After depositing my groceries and said toilet paper (remember don’t actually flush it in the toilet kids!  Just because it says toilet on the packaging does not mean you should.), Shannon and I went for a walk around the block.

Has anyone mentioned that the tourist have fucking found 24th street?

Did it get written up in Zagat?

Christ on a stick.

I was telling Shannon about the Japanese tourists dressed up as hipsters outside of Haus, the coffee house, kitty corner to Philz on 24th and Folsom Street, taking pictures of each other and trying to figure out where Humphrey Slocombe’s was located.

Note to tourist.  You may have dressed up as a hipster, but you are not blending in.  A hipster would not ask a bum in the doorway for directions to an ice cream shop.

Silly rabbits!  Get out my way, can’t you see I am on my way to the nail salon?  I got a manicure today.  It was awesome, no one was in the shop!  I usually go on Saturdays and the place is jam-packed, another bonus of working Saturdays and having Sundays and Mondays off.

That and I get to catch up with Calvin, he doesn’t work on Mondays, we actually have a coffee date tomorrow.

Well, fuck me.

I mean, I guess I do have date.

But I mean, I want a romantic date.  I want to be asked out. Not a date with a friend.  Hell, Shannon and I had a date for that matter, and I will have dates with Stephi when she comes to visit and my friend Alex when he comes to the city.

But, people, they are all married.

Well, except for Calvin, but he and Diane have been together for a while now and I suspect that road is being traveled down any how, he’s pretty much said she’s the one. And I should know since I couched surfed there for a month.

Maybe that is what I need to do!  I need to be more specific.

Dear God, I have given up on the idea that I would get married at Burning Man this year, but would you mind setting me up with some one that I can go to Fred and Heather’s wedding with?  Thanks!


I could use some practice before then.



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One Response to “I Want A Date!”

  1. MD Says:


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