I may be all smug and in love, but it took me MANY dates to get here. EMBARRASSMENT, INSULTS, HEARTBREAK, and SHAME were the theme of my dating life in my 20's. It was so bad, yet it was also absolutely hilarious in hindsight. I am going to begin to share some of these horror stories starting with a real gem (one of my bffs refers to this instance all too often) when I went out with a carpet salesman on a date in college.......
Once upon a time, I loved my booze. I loved it strong, straight, and in large quantities. This time was not limited to college unfortunately, but some of my best stories did occur between the years of '99-'04 (that's right, I LOVED college so much, it took me 5 years)....
The booze made me do silly things.....dye my hair blond, go out in jean mini-skirts without underwear, make out with people I hated sober, and eat only asparagus and broccoli and Diet Dr. Pepper. It also made me think that accepting a date with Persian rug salesman 17 years my senior was a normal and fully reasonable idea.
I remember going out one night with my blond hair and no panties and meeting a man. It happened a lot and often when I woke up, all I could recall was that the person I met was alive. When this particular man called me the next day to take me to dinner, I was really excited. I lived in this fantasy land where I thought that acting like a bloated, crazy, drunk, messy buffoon would help me land a soul mate. I believed that tequila and vodka made me a better person, not a human hurricane, so I drank insane amounts of it and walked around town in a drunk haze and imagined myself some music video vixen....OY.
I was VERY disappointed when my future husband to be showed up to pick me up for the big date, mind you, the very next day after meeting him (I didn't know ANYTHING about not accepting a date on such late notice, I hadn't read The Rules yet). In less than 24 hours since I met him, he became everything I wasn't looking for: unattractive, super thin, smelly, pimply, missing teeth, he drove a car that had plastic wrap windows, he didn't speak English well, and he only wanted one thing and one thing only....MY vagina. This was bad, very very bad.
I made him take me to an expensive restaurant because obviously being the fine lady I was, I deserved to be treated wonderfully, like a princess. I knew there was only one way for us to bond, for us to find that magic that we shared the night before, for us to be able to stand each other's presence and that was for me to get very VERY drunk.....and I did.
Several martinis later, he looked just like I remembered, blurry. Like a Picasso. He was no longer a carpet salesman, but a man with major potential who specialized in interior concept and design. The vodka was pulsating through my core and begging for this man to love and adore me, so I did what I did best (and why I most likely always seemed to attract men with limited understanding of the English language because they were the only ones that could tolerate me....), I bragged about myself.
I started with my beautiful "natural" blond hair and continued to my straight teeth (I had braces for 4 years). Moving downwards, I bragged about how I didn't need a bra because my breasts defied gravity (they were quite small at this time, so a bra wasn't super necessary) and how my (recently thinner, but still rolly) tummy was a perfect shade of bronze from maximum tanning bed and sun exposure. When I felt he was hanging on my every word (most likely trying to piece together my sentiments because of his limited grasp of English and my excessive slurring), I moved in for the absolute kill......
Now, I will say, everyone has a good feature and mine are my calves. Yes, they are attached to rather chunky and cellulite induced thighs, but they shapely and firm and were even better when I was 20 as I was tan, with less mass, and tons of muscle saved up from playing sports since I was a teeny girl. They were something to be proud of for me, especially for how little effort I was putting them through at that time in my life (perhaps stumbling is a better workout than you would think....)....I literally had a 15 minute rave session about my own two limbs and then ate my supper, sobered up a bit and begged to be taken home as I was feeling like I had to vomit (regular occurrence in college, not puking up food, puking up booze).......and he was looking less like abstract art and more like the carpet salesman that picked me up 2 hours earlier.
When I got home, to my HORROR, I learned my roommate and a very best friend to this day heard all about my legs...........HOW? Was she dining at the restaurant? Spying on me through the window? Working in the kitchen?
I had pursed dialed her from my date in my drunken stupor and she listened in on the hysteria in detail. She caught the ENTIRE leg conversation......
I couldn't look at myself for days, I was so embarrassed.
To this day, she will not let me forget it. In the past whenever I would go out on a first date (even my first date with Crush) she would always ask...."did you tell him about your legs?"
I almost peed in my Spanx, the first time I dressed up to attend a party with Crush and while I was getting into the car with my heels on, he said, "wow, you have great legs, has anyone ever told you that before?".....I smiled and said, "well, I used to tell myself that all the time...." and then giggled for 5 minutes straight before I told him the above story.
More shameful dates to come!