Posts Tagged ‘humor’

Another One Bites the Dust

February 10, 2015

Check.

I just scratched another name off the list of ten guys I would be interested in going out with.

This makes number three and boy howdy was he surprised when I dropped the bomb.

It was funny.

I hung out with friends tonight, you know, doing that fellowship thing, even when I’m not eating the pizza, I need to do it–fellowship, that is, not pizza.

And I am really glad I did, I got invited to go swimming at China Beach and try out some body surfing, which is something I have wanted to try for some time now.

Anywho.

Get to the point here.

I wrote my number down and my name, like he doesn’t know it, he’s known me for 10 years, and touched his arm, handed it off and said, something to the effect of:

“Now that you have a tattoo (tattoos being on my ideal list) I can ask you out.  Here’s my number, if you ever want to go out and grab a coffee let me know.  I’m practicing asking guys out and the whole dating thing.”

He fumbled, “Me?”

“Huh?”

“Uh, um, I don’t ah, usually date you know, in the….”

“Yeah, I gotcha, no worries, I’m just practicing,” I said.

And I didn’t even blush.

“Well, you know, maybe we could do a coffee sometime, um, I…”

“No pressure,” I laughed, “don’t feel weird, no weirdness here, heck I even asked out your friend at one point awhile back, don’t feel too special.”

I smiled, “night.”

I turned, unlocked my bicycle and hopped on it, rode off down the road and into the sunset.

Well, it was late, not the proverbial sunset, but the Sunset, where I live.

It was a giddy ride home.

I almost could make a habit of asking guys out, I certainly get a jolt of adrenalin from doing it.

I can tell the answer is no and he won’t be calling and I’m so cool with it, it’s not even funny, I’m just pleased as punch, to continue the lazy use of cliché, that I asked.

Another one-off the list.

Another fantasy squashed.

I really didn’t ever think he would, I never got that vibe from him, but I like him, he’s smart, and he’s very funny.

Two characteristics I am a big fan of.

So.

Next.

Oh.

And the gentleman I called yesterday and called an asshole on his voicemail sent me the no response response, which is basically a no, in a twee little text message this afternoon.

My response, “oh you’re fucking funny.”

And he is.

And the response he gave me was funny.

I can’t wait for the ribbing I’m going to get when I see him next.

Hopefully I’ll be dating someone so I don’t have to listen to his crap for too long.

I am getting to see some funny stuff here with the dating.

Oh.

What else is funny?

OkCupid picked up and re-Tweeted my blog from last night and I got a huge amount of reads off it, which was cool, but I wanted to ask the robot, “did a human read what I wrote, do you know I call your service OkStupid?”

Ha.

Oh.

Good times.

“Breaking up is good for you,” he said to me over a slice of pizza at Pasquale’s in the Inner Sunset, “your writing has been on fire.”

Thanks.

I appreciate that.

I do love to do the writing and if one of the consequences of my break up is better quality blogs, hey, bring it on.

I’m so grateful for this blog, for putting it out there, for not caring, too much, who reads what, for having a forum to dump my day into.

All the goofy stuff that goes through my brain, all the dreams and fantasy, all the angst and anxiety, and the silliness of myself that I get to let go of.

It’s the best and I’ve also become quite a fast typist.

Really, my words per minute is off the hook.

I have to say I am glad for the dating experience, and man it is an experience, a lot of work,  a lot of self-discovery, a lot of letting go of results.

And every time I get the surprised who me, or the tee hee response of someone who isn’t right for me, it makes it a little easier to go onto the next one.

I have complete faith that I am on the right track.

Oh.

I don’t know that I am taking the “right” actions.

I can sit here in my head and debate right and wrong all night long and not take any action whatsoever, because I want to make sure it’s the right one.

Rather.

I’m bumble fucking the hell around and providing myself with some ridiculous life experiences.

Ones I would not have if I was keeping myself to myself all the time.

I have to be willing to look like an ass if I’m going to get anywhere with this thing.

I’m not even feeling rejection from the last two guys, and you know, rejection is God’s protection, I’m just feeling ok, cool, moving on.

And not in a strident kind of way.

Just going with the flow.

Moving on.

Easy like.

I suspect too, that the more action I take, the more results I’m going to get.

I just have to continue to put it out there.

It’s going to be the thing that I don’t think will work, or the guy that I never would have asked out, except that I said I would take someone else’s suggestion.

It’s going to be right when I am left.

Or up when I am down.

Sideways and silly.

I just have to let it all out and do my thing.

Do your thang, do your thang, make my body sing

Let me see you do your thing now

And who knows, maybe some one will ask me out.

Now that would be something.

Just as long as it’s not on Tinder.

I am done with that.

Here’s to making a fool of myself and living through the experience.

To making an ass of myself.

In the best possible way.

For yet another day.

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Oops I Forgot

October 20, 2014

That was the gist of the message I received late last night, after I had gone to bed, in regards to the mornings’ date.

The gentleman in question overbooked himself.

Felt awful.

Had to go work out with his trainer that he booked at same time.

Cool.

Glad to have seen the message this morning at 8 a.m. when my alarm went off.

I suspected something was up when I did not get the promised confirmation message yesterday as was told to me earlier in the week.

“I’ll confirm on Saturday.”

When I got home last night at 10:15 p.m. and there was no message confirming I sent him one, just let me know, I’ll be up for a little bit.

But not that late.

Since the date time was for 9:30 a.m. today.

I wanted to have about 8 hours of sleep and a little breakfast and get ready time before meeting him at Trouble Coffee and Coconut Club before going and walking his dog around Fort Funston.

My alarm went off at 8 a.m. and I saw no text, no call on my phone, I checked my Okstupid profile and yup, incoming message at 1 a.m. saying he’d over booked, scheduled himself to work out with his trainer, so sorry, feel awful, please let me make it up to you.

Yada.

Yada.

Yada.

I got up, went pee.

Went right back to bed.

I slept until 11a.m.

Apparently God wanted me to have some rest instead of a date with someone who over books themselves.

And cool.

Rejection is God’s protection.

No skin off my nose.

I even did the nice thing and sent a nice response, “no worries, have a great day, if you want to hang out, you know where to find me.”

And that was that.

I had a free day to do with as I pleased.

I wasn’t sure what to do and truthfully, though not miffed, I was just a little flummoxed.

First week of trying to date and date is no-show.

Then I thought.

I didn’t say I was going to go on one date a week, I said I was going to try.

And try I did.

I made a date with someone and I set aside time to do so and opened myself up to being vulnerable.

And it felt kind of fun to know that I had a date.

I actually never really thought anything would come of it and a couple of times wanted to cancel, haha, but didn’t as I feel that’s self-sabbotage.

Now the funny thing?

I decided to take some action and tweeted my status as stood up and did anyone want to hang out as I was suddenly free to move about the day.

And what do you know.

I got a response.

And we chatted a bit.

And now I have a date for this Friday.

So there Mister I Got to Go Work Out With My Trainer.

FYI.

Posting pictures on social media of cheeseburger, fries, assorted dips and sauces, and the 49’ers game on your big screen tv does not scream working out with personal trainer, but hey, that’s ok.

Sometimes I get overbooked too doing my nails.

I bear the guy no grudge, in fact I thought it was pretty fucking funny.

And I think that’s what this experience is going to be, a lot of amusing stories and maybe, if a girl is lucky, a date or two with a nice guy.

I would love me some courting.

I don’t expect any.

In fact.

I have no expectations about any of it.

The only expectation I have is that I am going to put myself out there and learn how to date.  I hear that some folks can do it and I have seen a number of friends in my life, women and men, do it, and heck, they seem to enjoy themselves.

So.

I didn’t sit on my ass, I took myself on a date.

First I got cute, because you never know who you might see or whom might see you and I like looking cute.

Then I got on my scooter and drove it up the coast.

It’s awful handy that the coast is just three blocks away.

I went up the Great Highway and hit Lands End first.

It was glorious.

The view, well, amazing.

Lands End

Lands End

I walked along the cliff edge for a while and then decided I was going to do what tourists do, I was going to walk the bridge.

The Golden Gate Bridge, that is.

I have ridden my bicycle over it countless times, but I have never walked over the pedestrian side.

I climbed back onto the Vespa and took Sea Cliff over towards the other side of Lands End and then dropped along Camino del Mar and around Bakers Beach and China Beach, then up and around the Presidio.

The views were astounding and I was so grateful that I had not decided to stay at home and mope.

Not that I really felt mopey about the date cancelling, just that I can get into the habit of staying at home and it’s better for me to get out, do things, take actions, live my life like, this is it.

Because.

This is it.

And when I live so close to so much beauty it’s a shame to not appreciate it.

So I got my appreciation on.

The bridge was packed.

Packed.

But, as I was on a scooter I got motorcycle parking right up close and was able to amble right onto the bridge really quickly.

I got to say I like that about being on a scooter, easy peasey parking.

And voila!

The Golden Gate Bridge, established in 1937,

 

1937

1937

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

spanning the bay, slightly shrouded in light fog, crisp wind blowing, but not too bad (I have certainly ridden over it in really nasty fog and high winds), just enough to blow my hair about my face in a sexy manner.

I felt really filled with joy and gratitude looking out over the view.

I live here.

I live here!

Golden Gate Bridge

Golden Gate Bridge

How freaking amazing is that?

I took a few photographs.

I played tourist.

I called my mom from the bridge because I wanted to share with her the experience and it made me giggle to be calling my mom from the Golden Gate Bridge, I don’t know why, but it felt sweet to do so.

I went to the gift shop after walking the bridge and I bought myself a souvenir–a refrigerator magnet, what else?

And I scooped a little something for my mom too, since I had called her while I was on the bridge and her birthday is coming up soon.

I laughed as I was checking out and said something in regards to the compulsive gift buying.

The clerk smiled and said, “where are you from?”

I laughed harder.

Then I leaned in, “here, I live here, in San Francisco, Ocean Beach.”

We both laughed.

I rode my scooter back along the edge of the world full of joy and lightness and gratitude.

I came home and put my magnet on the fridge and cooked up some soup, it’s Sunday after all, and had a late lunch on the back deck with the sun on my face and the sound of the neighbor playing jazz piano.

How good is my life?

So good.

And I have a date for Friday.

I don’t think he will be cancelling.

And if he does, well.

I live in a pretty incredible place, I can probably figure out something to do.

 


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