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.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Season 3: Episode 19: “You Spin Me Right Round Baby”

My day job consists of 2 things: commuting through the suit jungle of downtown and (as I like to say) Bossing around 3 Corporate VIP’s. I was super hesitant to get on the 8am train to Corporate America for one particular reason; nothing in my wardrobe was really professionally appropriate. I’m lucky that I work in a small office where we are the rebel step child of big brother, so my purple taffeta mini gets much mileage, as do my 6in velvet platform T-straps, not at the same time of course….Moving on!!

It was a Tuesday and I was in full commute mode through downtown crossing. I was strategizing my day and rocking out to Huey Lewis & The News, when I realized a semi tall, semi good looking guy walking semi behind me. It took a few blocks to notice that every time we crossed the street he would move to either the left or right, depending on which direction the traffic was coming and escort me safely to the other side. As we navigated through the buildings that Occupy Boston is currently protesting, he would rush to hold any doors that got in our way. I see a lot of shocking things, but I was slapped in the face with surprise; could it be? A real gentleman, wearing a real suit fully equipped with a pocket square none the less?!?!, be still my heart!! We arrived at my building and it dawned on me that it was actually “our” building. There was one thing that stood between us and a perfect elevator conversation and it was one revolving door.

The Stately Rule book of Gentleman-hood 101 clearly expresses that the man should enter the revolving door first, thus engaging the inertia of energy forward so that the woman doesn’t have to push so hard. So when he motioned that I go first, I was willing to overlook this as sometimes that act can be taken the wrong way, specifically from those “uneducated woman” this was a classic case of Men Thought vs. Woman Thought. I had conjured up the perfect sassy conversation starter and as I was rehearsing my flirtatious smile, my oversized bag became lodged between the door and the wall…..

The door came to a screaming halt.

(The following sequence of events happened within a mere 3 seconds…)

I naturally wanted to get my bag unstuck so I tugged as hard as I could, and as I tugged, Mr. by the Book came slamming face first into the glass panel behind me. Being the taller man that he was, the weight of his face plant partnered with the fact that the noise sent me into a terrified jerk, UN lodged my bag and sent the door into a full on revolve. In 5 inch stilettos and a short skirt, I came flying, spread eagle style, out the other side. I shot across “our” lobby; face down ass up, my skirt was well above my waist and my obsession with expensive undergarments exposed for all on the marble floor of 100 Federal. A happy Tuesday it was.

I lay on the floor praying to Lord Stanley that what had just transpired was a huge figment of my imagination….then I felt 2 hands flip me over and as I opened my eyes one by one, Mr. BTB was staring at me with 2 bruised peepers, a swollen lip and a nose that was freshly broken. With one hand holding his face and the other extended to help, even through mass trauma; he was still following every rule.

After the shock wore off, I started to hysterically laugh. I think I muttered out an “I’m so sorry” but it was completely muffled throughout my giggles and it didn’t help when he recanted that he had never seen a girl eat so much marble. Once semi calm I offered to get him some ice or at least hail him a cab to the doctors, but he, in true gentleman form declined. He escorted me to the elevator and through a laugh spoke of hopes that he could run into me again.
It wasn’t until an hour later that I realized that he wasn’t laughing at the situation, but moreover that my skirt had gotten lodged in the elastic band of my underwear and my makeup looked like I was the second coming of Ke$ha.

I never did see him again, but that’s ok. All of the security guards now hold my door for me every morning upon my arrival…………I can only imagine how many times that security tape has been played.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Episode 18: "Full Metal Jacket"

If someone were to ask me what the definition of a Dinner Party was, I would answer it in the following manner: The most uncomfortably awkward social situation ever invented by people who are miserable in their marriage.

Married friends invite their single girlfriends to their dinner parties for two reasons; to regale with their tales of single-dome and to fill the seat at the end of the table. I generally obliged to such invitations as these were a free meal with good wine, however as I have learned, nothing in this life is free….

“I have the most amazing friend for you!!!”I was actually surprised that we had gone an entire 35 minutes without the phrase of the hour being spoken, and normally I would be spicy enough to fire back some witty one liner; however multiple glass of wine impaired my sarcasm button. The only retort I seemed to muster was a simple head shake. As the nameless dinner party attendant continued to go on she asked me to hear her out, and like any proper guest would, I glazed over my eyes and tried to look as interested as possible.
“33, finance executive, condo in Beacon hill”
“Not Impressed, if you had to describe him in 4 words, what would it be?”
“Sold!!! To the inebriated dinner guest to my right”

I happily passed along the 10 digit direct line and after the proper 48 hours I had a voice mail with a rather funny introduction and proposed dates for a face to face meeting. I can’t lie, we had great phone chemistry and then I blinked and it was Saturday and I was getting ready for our lunch date as I try to not commit to a weekend evening with a stranger.

15 minutes late turned into 40 minutes late which turned into explicit directions to my house which turned into a whopping 60 minutes later than our scheduled departure time. Already super pissed off I was ready to cancel when I happened to glace down at his SUV and noticed two things: a full head of hair and garden roses on the front seat. I thought to myself, well…at least I know one head works.

I thought about making him wait at least 10 minutes, but since I was starving, and my street happens to be a one way; 3.4 minutes it was. I slowly strutted down the stairway and as I opened the door in my most awesome slow motion, wind in the hair way I could, our eyes met. I scanned down his face; the sun seemed to glisten off of his blue eyes catching a glimmer on my cheek.

And then I realized that it wasn’t the sun glistening off of his baby blues it was the light reflecting off of his MOUTH FULL OF METAL BRACES…WITH GREEN AND BLUE RUBBERS, HO.LEE.SHIT

I was shocked. I immediately texted my ex-friend
“There is no way in hell that a finance executive has metal braces with colored bands”
“Didn’t think it would be an issue”
“Anytime oral is compromised it’s an issue!”

I quickly decided that this was a nice guy, a nice looking guy minus the full metal jacket and I needed to get over the superficial stigma put forth on us in high school. Unfortunately my little pep talk didn’t work and while he was talking about his college years at some big name university I couldn't help but concentrate on the huge piece of blue cheese stuck in between his front tooth and his incisor. I tried to look away but I couldn't and then it happened. I gagged. I outwardly gagged and once I started I couldn't stop, I was beyond mortified stuck in limbo between gagging and choking. This wasn’t some run of the mill gag, this was full guttural. All of a sudden I had a waiter behind me trying to administer the Heimlich and I was trying to figure out how I got from a point A to point vomit, and why was this happening?? I had a nonexistent gag reflex!!

Mortified, bright red and puffy, I had to remove myself from the situation and halfway through my apology, I watched in horror as Mr. FMJ dug around his wires, removed big blue, and happily digested it. It was clear that I would not be RSVP-ing yes to another date invite.

That day I was thankful for 2 things; my ability to run in heels and fabulous 24 hour lipstick.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Episode 17: “Lights, Camera, Take Your Clothes Off”

A near-death experience (NDE) experiences associated with impending death, encompassing multiple possible sensations including detachment from the body; extreme fear; total serenity, or warmth; the experience of absolute dissolution; and the presence of a light.

Even though every single first date, last date, and date in-between has felt like an NDE, I unfortunately have had the displeasure of having an actual NDE…twice as a matter of fact. One involved a MACK truck and the other a wedding….

After my second brush with death I quickly realized that life was too short and I was missing out on everything; my revelation was that I didn’t know 1% of anything that existed in this world and it was my mission to try to figure out what life was all about. I had entered my “Year of the Yes” this was the time that no matter what came up; I was going to experience it.

Enter Mr. Snuff Film (not really, he actually made independent films, but this name was way more exciting)

We met at the Library. He was reading a book and I was lost. He offered directions only because the sound of my heels on the marble was distracting (minus one point for him) as was my eyes (plus 2 points for him) we struck up a conversation and the next thing I know we are at coffee and he is divulging me about his new film, written and directed by him, of course. You would be great as “Beth” he said. In my most coy manner I slipped him my business card and just said “find me”.

The script was in my hands the next day and was loving “Beth”. She was the totally normal, stable and strong girlfriend of the main character. I memorized my 4 lines that afternoon and begun to hone my technique; Eye lids up, look away, shock face, happy face, choking back tears, anger, resentment, fear…I had it all in my bag of tricks and I was going right to the top. Move over Jennifer Grey, there’s a new awkward girl in town.

“We LOVE you!!” I felt as if I had just won a pair of the “Something Blue” Manolos, of COURSE they loved me, I was a natural.
“What’s your schedule like tomorrow; we want you to come back for a second read”
The producer handed me the revised script and I went out running to the car. I made every call I could think of; Mom, Brother, Friends, Friends of Friends, PR agents, Magazines. I called a Stylist, a Dermatologist and I settled in to really enjoy the beginning of the beginning.

I got home, changed into sweats (as I was fully prepared to engulf all that was the character) and opened the script… Character Assessment for: KANDI APPLE-Heroin addicted prostitute living with rapid drug and sexual addictions. End Quote.

No no, I’m Beth! I yelled at the script. I fumbled around for my cell and quickly dialed and re-dialed Mr. SF until he picked up:
“Oh hey, so um, there…uh, I think that there may be a mistake because…”
“No” he said in a dramatic tone, “no mistake, you listen to me ok”
“Uh, ok”
“Your energy was vibrant today, I saw it, I saw it with my soul, you were giving off the stench of Kandi, it was vapid and raw and intoxicating. You were the essence of her.”
(cue silence)
“That stench was Chanel Chance, and I was wearing pearls for Christ’s sakes!”
“Pearls of sin” he said
“Sin?!?! They were pearls of South Pacific OYSTERS! Besides, the first line has me gurgling on stripper pole, naked, falling into a heroin OD”
“So…take your clothes off”
“oohhh child, you did NOT just say that”

After a brief explanation as to why the act of selling out my body was against my moral code, we in a scene out of JAWS, expressed our displeasure for the other and the situation at hand.

I was a lady after all, and deserved to be treated as such!… it was December and my wax-ist was out of town.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Episode 16: The Chronicles of On-Line dating….Part deux

Since part one was such a big hit (literally, probably the most read episode on Chasing Boston) I thought I would follow up with some slightly more awkward emails. I clearly have a knack for getting the real gems out there. With promises of better mornings, princess treatment and love caresses (can someone PLEASE explain this one!), how can I resist?? (cue gag reflex)

Subject: You and Me
Hi you gorgeous, yet a stranger with my resemblances! Yes, I mean you. Your profile brought a smile to my face. Since our paths have crossed, why don’t we go together on the road of friendship? I will seek to quench your thirst during the journey with the hope of better mornings and you will simply keep me company.

Subject: I truly love your profile
Hi! I loved your profile and would love to learn more about you. I am certain anyone who is as lovely as you has many men writing to her. But I believe we have much in common. By the way, I am a speech anxiety reduction expert and a professor of speech in a university not far from Boston. I am tall (6' 2 1/2") and blond and loving and affectionate and love caresses. I search for love and kindness and trustworthiness in a relationship. I am very impressed with you. I think "couple" can be defined this way best: love, respect, kindness, values, beliefs, faith, sense of humor, trust, communication, sexiness, hugs, kisses, and playfulness : -))))))))))))

Thank you and thank you for lifting me up. And I wish you the very best in your searching. I am hoping to meet my best friend and soul-mate. I search for my second half. I want a girl with strong values and who is also loving and affectionate. And, loving the Red Sox is great too!


(insert name here)

P.S. I liked your profile one of the best. Thanks again!

Note: his screen name is: ILuvHugsToo….nuff said.

Subject: I want to go into battle in your honor
Do you still play that French horn?
~Conan the Musical Barbarian

Subject: I’m Batman
Hey how are you? My name is Batman I have to say you have amazing eyes and a great smile. You should definitely do toothpaste commercials, I can be your manager, lol. Really hoping to make that dream of meeting the man of your dreams on the Internet come true, lol. I still believe in Chivalry and would treat you like the Princess that you are. I am also a good girlfriend and would definitely take you away like to Italy or somewhere else. All I would like this Memorial day is for your phone number. Looking for a woman that likes to travel to new places like my bedroom, lol. I think Hawaii is the best place I have visited so far, how about yourself? I look exactly like my pictures except the fact I used to be a woman, lol. Would love to take you to a Sox game my Dad has season tix. Well I would love to hear back from you if not I will probably cry like a little school girl.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Episode 14: Jew….ish

“Don’t you think you are being insensitive?”
(There it was, the last 3 months had lead us to this place and I was sitting on the edge of a very uncomfortable couch taking in all I could handle…)

“I mean, maybe you forgot, but I’m Jewish”
(Actually I didn’t forget that you were Jewish, maybe you did since I had to provide direction on the proper placement of candles in your menorah…but whatevs)

“Let me remind you of this little event called the HOLOCAUST!!”
(How was I going to compete with this one?)

I had that conversation exactly 36 hours before our plane to Munich was to be "wheels up". I had been looking at my passport for the last week and planning out my wardrobe selections for our trip, a trip that was a surprise get-a-way, planned by non other than him, when my phone rang and Mr. Ish in a frantic tone asked me to caucus over our impending travel and “my inability to commit to someone of his stature”….whatever that meant.

The next 3 hours was a circular discussion about how we never hold hands, how I’m insensitive, and how he just couldn’t go on in this “abusive relationship” any longer. I, in a surprisingly quiet manner asked where this was coming from, and the response that I got was grossly obnoxious; apparently a month ago we were shopping for dinner; he suggested pork and I, like the amazing chef I believe myself to be suggested a pancetta and apple compote……

The room fell silent. I’m not following along I said. In fact I’m confused because that was an AH.MAZ.ING suggestion on my end and poaching those apples in the brandy was really my culinary genius reaching its peak…his hand raised up and stopped me, “It's not kosher Courtney” that was the issue.
“The Pancetta?”
“No, The pork”
“You suggested the Pork!”
“Did you for a second think that maybe I shouldn’t eat the pork because it’s NOT kosher”
“Ho.Lee.Shit!….you’re not kosher”

The point, he explained to me was that I didn’t ask. I did not ask him if he may want to be aware that he was suggesting we partake in a food in which he would be disrespecting his religion and his family, and in his eyes, he could never be with someone who didn’t take this into account. This was a test he said to me…and you failed, just like you failed the Munich test; furthermore I would appreciate it if you left.

I stood up and compiled the most eloquent set of lexicons that I could think of in that situation;
And I would appreciate an Academy nomination for the demanding and time consuming reprise role of Girl 1 in “Fake Orgasm" part 1-34 also, don’t take this the wrong way, because I respect you…but go fuck yourself, unless that’s not kosher…I’ll see myself out (cue hair flip)

As the elevator descended down, I was minus one key on my key chain and plus one first class ticket to Germany.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Season 2: Episode 13: “White Rabbits, Black Hats and Slide of Hand”

Mr. Houdini basically jumped out of a black silk top hat and into my world at the beginning of April. The smoke and mirror show was as impressive as watching a tranny navigate a cobble street in 5 in clear platform stilettos; train wreck to watch, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of it.

6 short weeks’ later things were going great, as in “found the most amazing pair of choo’s, they fit and they were on sale” great. I was becoming domestic, hosting dinner parties and planting flowers as in “elbow deep in cow manure”. When did I turn into a non-felony toting Martha Stewart??

After McSport I vowed to never bring up anyone that I was casually dating but after a couple of weeks and a couple of bottles of champagne there I was; running my mouth and verbally intro-ing my friends to the next “Mr. Courtney Smith”.

I was excited at the prospect of dating an older guy. In my mind this was drama free, honest and a breath of fresh air. Maybe this was what I needed. Someone who had it together, and who was secure in the man zone. I had come to embrace cooking dinner at home, constantly being called baby and the rush of the morning routine…..then the toothbrush incident happened….

I would like to preface the following story with, “I know”:

I accidentally left my toothbrush in the bathroom. As I type that, I can feel the gag reflex kicking in. I am the QUEEN of the no leave behind and in the rush of this particular morning I simply forgot to grab it. Fast forward to a few days later:

“Houdini, where is my toothbrush?” I asked as I rummaged through the bathroom drawer.
“I’ll grab it” he proceeds to walk over to the kitchen, open the pantry and pull out my toothbrush

I tried to wrap my head around what was going on. Generally I leave my toothbrush in the bathroom. Generally most people do, and generally speaking, he didn’t. Was I staring in the closet of misfit toothbrushes? And right there, next to the olive oil was a serious insight into his current dating life.

“Just so you know my toothbrush is very secure with its sexuality, she’s here, she’s queer, get used to it!”

“White Rabbits Baby”….I can only imagine what shape my furrowed brow seem to take as he uttered the most ridiculously stupid and confusing phrase that any male has ever said to me. To this day, I still have no idea what that means.

Then Memorial Day came and went and so did he, as in “never to be heard from again”. At first I worried as this was not like him to not respond to any forms of communication. I then put two and two together…so if any of you see him, tell him said hi, yes, my ass still amazing, and I hope he got his rabies shot after that weekend in Newport. (Saw the photos…WOOF)

No hard feelings (wink)