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.

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.

1 comment:

  1. You really should have your own TV series... you can't make this stuff up!! Loved.Every.Word! xo - Jenny from the Jersey block