Chase (v): To follow rapidly in order to catch (this could pertain to my career), to go and follow in pursuit (I think I’ll assign this to love)

I wish I had a PhD in life, unfortunately I don’t. It’s a hard thing to do and being an independent woman in Boston doesn’t make it any easier; I’m a triple A, work till I drop, laugh a lot because I can, walk fast, talk fast kinda girl. I do it all and I do it in 5 inch heels.

You would think navigating a career and a new relationship while breaking the age barrier of 30 would be as easy as getting home in a timely manner during a sox-yankees series (this ladies and gents is sarcasm at its finest). However it is not and I am stumbling through this cray cray life one day at a time with a iPhone in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

These are my daily musings; my everyday observations. I am here to rave, rant , tell my stories and perhaps laugh at those times when wine and over priced shoes, tears just aren’t enough.

So what happens after you caught Prince Charming? You could say I’m still Chasing Boston.




Friday, March 12, 2010

Episode 3: “These Shoes Are Made For Walking…..or Hailing Taxi’s”

“So, how will your parents react to you being in relationship with a 46 year old man from Africa?”
*record scratch* cue choking sounds from inhaling a large piece of chocolate cake
“I’m sorry, did you say “in a relationship”…………..

Let’s back up the Train, Mr. International Man of Mystery made his debut in the cross walk of Huntington Ave one night in September. He was charming, polite and smoother than a freshly waxed pair of legs. I was simply walking to get some groceries as all that resided in my fridge was a bottle of miller lite, a wedge of unrecognizable cheese and some blueish stuff in a Tupperware container (it had been a very long summer)

I was walking in, he was walking out and found it appropriate to grab my arm, pull me close, whisper in my ear “you are so beautiful and seeing you made my week” and then gently kiss my blushed cheek.

SIDE NOTE: I know what you must be thinking…who falls for this, well I do, I have estrogen raging through my body, and of COURSE I was going to fall for that.

We moved out of the cross walk, he asked for my number, I obliged (see note above) and 30 minutes later I had a text in my inbox simply stating “you took my breath away, dinner on Saturday night?”

SIDE NOTE: as I’m reading that I’m actually grimacing. A full on gag face.

Mr. IMOM pulled out all of the tricks from the “How to Get Laid: A Step By Step Guide For The Modern Man” book and I like a woman who hadn’t been out with a man in a while, ate every last bit of it up. The conversation went from sports, politics and travel to my favorite subject, dessert and conveniently where we were had the “best chocolate cake” in Boston, and as I took that first luscious bite, home skillet had to spit out the line of all lines and ruin what could have been an orgasmic first bite……

“So, how will your parents react to you being in relationship with a 46 year old man from Africa?”
“I’m sorry, did you say “in a relationship (choke choke choke)”, and please explain the age thing, because I’m not quite understanding?”
“Well your 21 right, and I’m 46”
“Yeah only I’m actually 28”
“You’re 28!!”
“Wow, really this is happening, I need some air”

And as my hand just gets to the door I hear “so wait……does this mean were not in a relationship?!?!”

I may not have been wearing walking shoes that night (I rarely do), but I do know how to do one thing in 4 inch black velvet stillhettos….

TAXI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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