It was the second and last date I had with this guy. The first date was AMAZING, but then the second one just went....wrong...so wrong...
It all started when I decided to wear these new earrings I bought. They are gold and dangling...very pretty. But definitely meant to be taken off before messing around...and probably meant to be worn with hair that it up and tied tightly into a bun, not down.
We went to dinner then headed back to his place to watch a movie and hang out. We ended up on his bed and started fooling around...but my hair got stuck in my earrings and was all over my face and I couldn't see a thing. His mom walked in, my shirt was unbuttoned. When I tried to get up I tripped over my shoes and fell into the television..it didn't break, but I got a cut on my head from something sharp and had to get stitches later. All the while his mom is just staring at me laughing.
I chose to walk home.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Kitchen Tongs?
I was going on a date with this guy and he came to pick me up from my house. Well, just like a girl, I wasn't ready but not because of the usual reasons. I was on my period and I went to get in the shower so I sat on the toilet and was taking my tampon out and the dang string popped! So, he called and said he was on his way. I flipped out. I went to the kitchen and got a pair of cooking tongs! That didn't work. I went ahead and took my shower and got ready by that time he was there. I was worried because leaving a tampon in for so long can be dangerous. So, when he got there I explained to him that I was having a problem and I needed to go to the emergency room! Obviously I had to tell him what was wrong and he thought it was hysterical. Pretty embarrassing if you ask me.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Lobster Girl
When I was around 30 I was introduced to a friend-of-a-friend from work, a gal named Karen. We talked a bit, she was my age and seemed nice enough, so we made plans to get together that weekend. I lived in JP at the time and she in Lynn, so we met about halfway and spent part or the day at Nahant Beach. This, of course, is that part where people start talking about themselves -- lives and work and romance history -- and we did likewise.
She had, she told me, been in a relationship for several years and broke up with the guy because of his drinking. Okay, fine, that's not unheard-of. Then went on to tell me that she had "seriously cut down" on her own drinking, and limited herself to only six or seven screwdrivers a night instead of twelve. Okay, small alarm bells started to go off in my head but I ignored them. She also casually mentioned that she didn't sleep with a guy right away, but once she did she became completely obsessed with him. The alarm bells turned into howling air raid sirens, but I still tried to ignore them. After a bit more small talk we packed up and left the beach.
We decided to grab a bite to eat and noticed a small place in Charlestown offering a twin lobster special. We stopped there and ordered food, and while waiting she slammed down three screwdrivers. But no big deal, right? The food came and we dug in. Lobsters are weird things and only about a third of them is edible in my opinion, so I tore off the shell parts and ate what was left. Toward the end of our meal she pointed to the little side claws or legs or whatever they are and said, "You're not going to eat those? There's good meat in them!" and grabbed mine up. I'd never bothered with them thinking the little toothpick of lobster meat inside wasn't worth all the effort of picking them apart.
I pecked around at my plate a bit more, finished up the fries and corn, and then glanced over at her. She was sitting there working on the small legs alright, not picking them apart but just eating them shell and all. "Oh, these are the best part! " she told me. Crunch, crackle, crunch, gulp... I managed not to look as horrified as I felt, muttered my way through the rest of the meal and we left. I promised to call later, when I had a minute. That was 1988 and I still haven't found time to call.
She had, she told me, been in a relationship for several years and broke up with the guy because of his drinking. Okay, fine, that's not unheard-of. Then went on to tell me that she had "seriously cut down" on her own drinking, and limited herself to only six or seven screwdrivers a night instead of twelve. Okay, small alarm bells started to go off in my head but I ignored them. She also casually mentioned that she didn't sleep with a guy right away, but once she did she became completely obsessed with him. The alarm bells turned into howling air raid sirens, but I still tried to ignore them. After a bit more small talk we packed up and left the beach.
We decided to grab a bite to eat and noticed a small place in Charlestown offering a twin lobster special. We stopped there and ordered food, and while waiting she slammed down three screwdrivers. But no big deal, right? The food came and we dug in. Lobsters are weird things and only about a third of them is edible in my opinion, so I tore off the shell parts and ate what was left. Toward the end of our meal she pointed to the little side claws or legs or whatever they are and said, "You're not going to eat those? There's good meat in them!" and grabbed mine up. I'd never bothered with them thinking the little toothpick of lobster meat inside wasn't worth all the effort of picking them apart.
I pecked around at my plate a bit more, finished up the fries and corn, and then glanced over at her. She was sitting there working on the small legs alright, not picking them apart but just eating them shell and all. "Oh, these are the best part! " she told me. Crunch, crackle, crunch, gulp... I managed not to look as horrified as I felt, muttered my way through the rest of the meal and we left. I promised to call later, when I had a minute. That was 1988 and I still haven't found time to call.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
A Day At The Pool
Once upon a time I was at this guy's house. We weren't officially dating, but we had started to see each other from time to time. Well, his neighborhood had a community pool, and it was a lovely summer day, so we decided to head on down there. I took off my pants, folded them up by the pool and jumped in. I started swimming laps around when I noticed him laughing uncontrollably.
"What?"
All he could respond with was laughter and wide eyes, one finger extended at my chest. Turns out I had fallen out of my new bathing suit and had been flashing all the pool patrons for a good five minutes. That embarassment, however, was nothing compared to the rest of the day.
Little kids had been running along the pool deck the whole time, and it so happened one of them kicked my jeans into the pool "by accident". Thankfully, I had brought a cover-up. So, while my jeans hung out on his deck, we laid around on his red daybed, watching TV. He eventually fell asleep, and some moments later, his younger sister (who was about 8) came down the stairs into his room in the basement. She started to say something then immediately got a shocked expression on her face, and trudged back up the stairs. I shrugged and figured she forgot what she was supposed to say, realized he was asleep, or was just being a goofy kid. No harm done. May I mention at this point that my cover-up dress matched the duvet?
His darling sister came peeking around the corner a few minutes later, yelling for my date to go speak with their mother. The sister crossed him cautiously as he sleepily stumbled up the stairs, and came over to me wringing her hands.
"Um... Katie... can I ask you a question?"
"Sure sweetheart, what is it?"
"Ermh... why are you... naked?"
leaping out of bed and a good six feet I exclaimed, "I'm not naked!" and spread my arms to reveal my red cover-up. Her hands covered her mouth in shock.
"He's gonna kill me... oh no..."
"...what did you say?"
"Oh, god, he's gonna kill me... I told my mom... I thought you guys were having," she went into a whisper, "*sex*"
I stood there in shock. I'd known this guy about a week, and I was only in eighth grade.
His little sister started to run out of the room when he came storming back in, glaring. She shrank in fear and ran off.
In a few minutes, we were called to all sit in their den and wait to have a "talk" with his mother. The following hour was spent being lectured to by his mother, who had a very thick spanish accent and a fiesty attitude to match, then being driven home in what was perhaps the most awkward car ride of my life. Needless to say, I decided not to go back.
"What?"
All he could respond with was laughter and wide eyes, one finger extended at my chest. Turns out I had fallen out of my new bathing suit and had been flashing all the pool patrons for a good five minutes. That embarassment, however, was nothing compared to the rest of the day.
Little kids had been running along the pool deck the whole time, and it so happened one of them kicked my jeans into the pool "by accident". Thankfully, I had brought a cover-up. So, while my jeans hung out on his deck, we laid around on his red daybed, watching TV. He eventually fell asleep, and some moments later, his younger sister (who was about 8) came down the stairs into his room in the basement. She started to say something then immediately got a shocked expression on her face, and trudged back up the stairs. I shrugged and figured she forgot what she was supposed to say, realized he was asleep, or was just being a goofy kid. No harm done. May I mention at this point that my cover-up dress matched the duvet?
His darling sister came peeking around the corner a few minutes later, yelling for my date to go speak with their mother. The sister crossed him cautiously as he sleepily stumbled up the stairs, and came over to me wringing her hands.
"Um... Katie... can I ask you a question?"
"Sure sweetheart, what is it?"
"Ermh... why are you... naked?"
leaping out of bed and a good six feet I exclaimed, "I'm not naked!" and spread my arms to reveal my red cover-up. Her hands covered her mouth in shock.
"He's gonna kill me... oh no..."
"...what did you say?"
"Oh, god, he's gonna kill me... I told my mom... I thought you guys were having," she went into a whisper, "*sex*"
I stood there in shock. I'd known this guy about a week, and I was only in eighth grade.
His little sister started to run out of the room when he came storming back in, glaring. She shrank in fear and ran off.
In a few minutes, we were called to all sit in their den and wait to have a "talk" with his mother. The following hour was spent being lectured to by his mother, who had a very thick spanish accent and a fiesty attitude to match, then being driven home in what was perhaps the most awkward car ride of my life. Needless to say, I decided not to go back.
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