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, 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)