Deuces

My husband came home one night recently and said, "there's this song that reminds me of you and Sayler"... and I thought that was a thoughtful sentiment.  Because there are so many songs that remind me of people, and I will often tell them. Just like how a million songs remind me of Ariel, including this  Katy Perry song  which takes me back to the day the album dropped.  Ariel and I cleaning my storage unit...  Her and I, doing the Charleston with the radio turned way up... and all other ill-fitting and old-fashioned dance moves reminiscent of Gatsby days there along the concrete driveway...  We dance a little lame sometimes. It's how people know we're related. But the last time I remember someone saying a song reminded them of me was when Lizzy said Drops of Jupiter  reminded her of me (and, in turn, I think of her every time I hear it). That was over a decade ago. and when Brian and I dated in the yesteryear and he said Nirvana's...

I like it sweet and thoughtful, I like it, I like it... And maybe every week, I could like it and not be too greedy to like it every day, I think you'd like it better that way... anyway... But I tend to be kind of selfish, and want to hold on too long, I tend to be a bit irrational, and justify what is wrong. I'd like to listen to the sound of the rain, and not focus on any other thing, I'd like that... I'd like that... But then you wouldn't have any way of knowing that what I'm focusing on is you, and I can't have that... I can't have that.... It's Saturday and it's raining. It's put a quiet in my heart that I welcome and I can write a few words and listen to a few songs and I can forget all of the things that I should be doing... At least for a small window of time. I took a look at my blog list today... the sheer number startles me, and perhaps that there are 91 posts I have yet to finish... or ha...

It was on Friday night. We laughed a lot, perhaps made delirious by the sweet smell of men that were familiar-yet-elusive and desirable. It could have been the wine,  it could have been the great company of old friends and conversations and shared opinions with other women. I disagreed with Ariel more than once, though... "Too sweet" or.... "smells like a jelly bean...." The ones I couldn't put down were the ones that smelled like a man's deodorant, hidden among 75+ samples that scattered in baskets around the coffee table. There we sat around a table full of scents as we sampled the fragrances from a friend's Scentsy collection, eager to fill out our order forms for the smells that would soon promise to envelop our homes. I opted for the "Iced Pine" option, which always reminds me of the home I have not yet lived in and lingered around the fragrances that smelled of citrus and orange peels.  The idea of the smell of "Orange...

I was shopping for apples, and shopping for apples made me smirk upon careful examination of one otherwise perfect apple. The apple had a hole. A worm hole? Maybe.  I didn't consider it long before I carefully placed it back with its brethren fruit. And then I reminisced, thinking about how in Lisbon ("Lisboa") you aren't allowed to touch the fruit and there is a monitor at each fruit stand so you have to tell the under-appreciated worker which one you want.  It's weird.  Choose wisely. Lisboa is a funny place. But it was in Lisboa I met Morten. There were many days when I wondered if Morten was the one that got away, which is completely hilarious in hindsight, and yet even as I chuckle I remember my feet dangling next to his with his coat around my arms and the blissful happiness that enveloped me. Morten and I met at a club and I remember, distinctly, that I found him so appealing with his tall, well-proportioned frame and his ...

Javier, I have thought about you. Not like, thought thought about you, But like, started to muse over what an attractive hunk you are. And finally I told my husband about you. It was late last night, as we meandered through the darks streets after a much-needed shop at the grocery store. I confessed. "You know how I have always had a celebrity crush on Clive Owen?" I quizzed. My husband acknowledged my deep and long-lasting crush with a swift nod. "There's another"... "You know Javier Bardem..."? Lloyd seemed somewhat amused by my choice, chuckling "That guy looks like a bear..." My response was immediate, and like a hushed, whispered exhalation of agreement. "Exactly..., ...., ...."I Love Bears..." "Bears that maul?", he bemused. We carried on with our drive. Me thinking about Javier and bears that maul, my husband likely moving on in thought the way men do. And just to clarify, I do...

That martial arts guy was super-duper cute. We met while I was at the tender age of 19. It was on the dancefloor of Rox Club in Riverside which means... We must have met on a Wednesday. Steve was half Japanese so it only made sense that he was also avid in martial arts.  I think it was Jiu-Jitsu. Who knows? I just remember having a rare bold moment when I approached him on that too-small dance-floor. We dated for a few weeks. I remember just knowing he was way more than I'd ever be able to handle. He seemed so grown-up at a time when I still felt so incredibly young. And I was hung-up on someone else at the time, so it wasn't like Steve would have had the best of me anyway. But it was Steve that made me look forward to growing up, And making lots of questionable decisions, and dancing the night away with friends on a too-small dance floor and feeling bold enough to approach someone that, quite frankly, I just thought was way out of my league. Tha...

The Rapper and I dated during 2 separate time frames. The first time we dated, if I remember correctly, he wanted to break-up (and was a bit of a douche about it) and then he suspiciously found himself another girl to date pretty soon thereafter. She was a Ho, so somehow that made me feel better at the time.  In fact, her with all her Ho-like clothes and personality and Ho-like hair on some level still makes me feel better. Because I may have kissed a lot of boys... but I ain't never been no Ho. (If you are picking up what I'm putting down...) The second time with that Ho-loving rapper, most definitely, it was me that made that call to end things. The second go-round I guess I just couldn't seem to revive any part of me that had liked him a few years prior.... He was super cute with dark eyes and hair and reminded me of T.I. And he was mildy interesting.... But by nature, I just have a very difficult time forgiving people who have wronged me. (I.e. by...

He was a Navy Seal, so I feel like, that should be enough said. Who wouldn't want to marry a good-looking, hot-bodied Seal? And this one was a good guy, He was handsome, he was oh so handsome.... He was ambitious, clearly and kind and wonderful. But Dave had a white car, and I hated that white car, and it was enough to make me stop seeing him. I suppose judging a man by his vehicle could be a bit shallow of me, Yes, Even I would agree On paper he was amazing. To the world, He was amazing. To me, all I saw was that vehicle that would pull up outside, as he stood next to it, holding the passenger door open for me, like a sweet gentleman would. For whatever reason this world sometimes doesn't allow us to like the ones we'd really like to like.  And if you're remotely like me, you will focus on the one negative quality of a person or the color of a vehicle and find it reason enough to justify why...

I've only dated one dude who owned a motorcycle, and that dude was cute Nicholas. I was in my early 20's and Nicholas had a beautiful smile.  Nicholas also had a big truck and that really, really really fast motorcycle. Now, you can take the girl out the 909, but you can't take the 909 out the girl.  What can I say, while I find most big truck drivers objectionable, I find a very rare few to be really intoxicating. Because let's be honest, the stigma that guys who drive big trucks are over-compensating for something in their persona didn't just come from nowhere .  We've all met the dudes that pull into a parking lot WAY too fast, leave their ridiculous swivel skid marks all over the road, wear those dark black sunglasses and WAY too much hair gel.  I mean, could you BE more of a douche? Whatever, I'm not judging, I'm just sayn'. But Nicholas drove one of those legit big trucks.  The kind that always has mud on the sides and has those big bars ...

I once dated a really good dancer. That wasn't his only strength. In truth, he was one of thee absolute best dudes I ever made out with.  He was super funny, smart and we clicked right away. But what struck me as odd was that, for the first time before and since, his good dancing skills didn't turn me off.  (For some reason, a man with too much swagger on the floor has always confused and frightened me a little.)  Oh, and I also don't like when they are so involved in their dancing that they forget you are on the floor with them.  Oh, and when they A. crowd you or B. use you as a prop.  Oh, and when they sing along to songs by female artists.  If you know all the lyrics to "I'm a Slave for You", that's both impressive and embarrassing. (I really did have strange deal-breakers with men...) So here was the first guy who I enjoyed dancing with that was actually a really good dancer.  He didn't crowd.  He didn't sweat profusely.  H...

I once loved a Matt.  I think so anyway. Not the one from juior high who I was majorly crushing on, but the Matt that I met at the tender age of 21. I was with Maria at our Wednesday night haunt, "Godfather's".  This is a decade ago before that place turned into a total disaster.  I swear there weren't homeboys there when we used to go. At 21 I was skinny, and of course now that I'm no longer a size 7 I totally need to let everyone know that for a year I was.  I didn't have crows feet when I smiled at 21, also something I think you need to know to set the stage. And there he was. I wouldn't have noticed Matt, but he and his friend sent a round of Bud Lights to Maria and I.  We smiled.  Maria had a cute, bashful smile- the one she's always had that made boys swoon.  I am certain I wore my desperate smile.  The one that says, "WHO, ME?? ME? ME?  OVER HERE, OVER HERE, OVER HERE!!". Way to play hard-to-get, Cambria. And that...

I have a decent memory for names, which is super helpful in my job.  I can quickly commit it to memory, and put the associations and puzzle pieces together. This is why I remember my 4 Roberts. The first Robert I dated was when I was 16- clingy Robert- the one from my days at Del Taco, remember?  Clingy Robert was Hispanic with dark locks and olive skin.  It was with clingy Robert that I went on my first ever bowling date.  It was the first time I realized that bowling lanes were slippery, and the first time I fell on my behind while, likely, trying to look adorable on a date. My second Robert was best known as "Sweet Robbie".  Robbie was blonde, and for the life of me I can't remember where we met.  Sweet Robbie and I would hang out at his grandmother's house, although, ironically I never met his grandmother.  Sweet Robbie was quiet and we would spend many summer days in the pool at his grandmother's.  I don't even remember how and why...

The barista's name was Steve. My best friend and I frequented the mall at age 20.  You know, at that in-between age when we were too young for the bars but couldn't quite get our enthusiasm up for the 18 and overs. My bestie and I loved going to the movies and it wasn't unlike us to see 2 or 3 flicks in a week.  We were free to date no one and everyone and we always chose to date each other. Maria and I would go to the Ontario Mills, like, A LOT and part of our routine was to get a Starbucks coffee or a blended coffee drink from GameWorks (I know, who woulda' knew Gameworks had bomb blended drinks?). And the cute barista drew me in more than I needed. Maria and I, to this day, blame our "Freshman 15" on Steve and all our blended coffee drinks. Steve was foxy back then (he later became completely gross and unfoxy, so I need to stress "back then".) Steve would flirt shamelessly and on one clever occassion he wrote his name and phone numbe...

Dear Shontel..... No, I haven't forgotten about you. I only have 2 friends that live in the land of "What if...", Lizzy Lynn and sweet Shontel. Shontel and I would laugh at just about everything, but mainly our "What ifs?" It would start with a normal scenario and then we would say "What if all a'sudden...." And then we would laugh. Because we were really good at turning situations into comedy sitcom scenes by imagining would could possibly happen "all a'sudden" to create a really, REALLY funny scenario. Shontel was also wonderful because, like me, she would speak her thoughts out loud. One of my favorite moments was when we had a lengthy conversation about how uncomfortable we felt when walking through the restaurant and somehow finding ourselves stepping to the rhythm of the music from the water show. We always tried to step out of tune with the music that boomed across the restaurant, for fear that a customer woul...

This is the one about the Irish guy.  (No, not that one that I actually met in Ireland... a different Irish guy... keep up). This Irish guy I met in San Diego.  I'm not talking 8th generation Irish.  I mean, like, total Guiness and Blarney Stone Irish.  Fresh off the plane. He had been offered a job in San D. while he was once on vacation (likely a lie... he always seemed like he wasn't quite telling the whole truth.) I served him and his roommate at Mimi's one day and I thought he was dreamy.  (Okay, it was JUST the accent.... so sue me). Overall, he was an A$$whole. No. Honest. But of course this is back when I was young and I loved the occasional A$$whole.   Keeping me guessing.  A total project.  I'm gonna' make this guy love me and then he'll be sweet and romantic.... PffffffT. Right. Well we started dating (Obviously... What can I say, I had a way of getting what I wanted... most the time....).  ...

Sweet Eddie and I dated for about 3 months. He was one of the sweetest and kindest people I had ever met. I saw him one aternoon eating lunch while I was opening a restaurant.  He was so cute. I pounced. Figuratively, of course. Over the next 3 months he taught me what it meant to be loved and adored.  He loved to cook for me and gave great foot rubs, which I'm a total sucker for.  Sweet Eddie wrote sweet sentiments on cards and letters to me, which I will read through from time to time. But Eddie and I didn't have a lot in common.  We had little to talk about at times and I knew I would be leaving to open another restaurant in another state soon thereafter.  Eddie went on to marry and divorce.  And a few years ago, sweet Eddie took his own life. I was saddened and shocked and my heart broke. Sweet Eddie who had taught me not to settle for less than someone who would adore me.  Sweet Eddie who was a great big brother to his siblings...

This one is about a dude named Danny. Danny, Danny who I have punched in the face so many times in my mind.  Danny and I met one afternoon at the river.  Yes, yes, code red, code red. After skirting around in his friend's boat all afternoon with my roommates, we decided to meet up again later that evening. So, technically our first date was to a foam party that night (don't judge me- it was actually a lot of fun.) And after the foam party I was a smitten kitten. He resided in the greater LBC area, and I was living in San Diego.  We lived those 2 hours apart and despite the fact we were inseparable.  He came down on the weekends, I went up on my days off....  Now our first "real" date was to the Cheesecake Factory because of his professed love for chessecake.  The wine was fabulous, the meal was scrumptious and the conversation was going well (not great, because I realize it is hard for a man to keep up with my interview-style dates).  A...

I loved the music guy. No one knows why. Over the weekend I sat with my girlfriends that I've know since I was 15.  I lived with these girls in college, so  they know my dating resume better than just about anyone else in the world. They know my significant boyfriends.  They know my fleeting relationships.  They know the ones that happened in between even though, with 4 heads put together, we can't remember their names. But there was the one that I like to say I loved, because we think it's funny when I say "I loved that guy".  And we burst into laughter because none of us are sure whether I really loved him.  It seems like many moons ago.... My room-mates and I had headed over to the music store one afternoon.  I was in the market for some used CD's.  Probably something embarassing and juvenile like Britney Spears (don't judge me- I still love her....).  And he worked there.... He wandered over to me and started chatting. ...

I once dated a douchelord.  A scoundrel. A curly haired boy who wasn't even all that good looking. Bitter much? Naaaaaaahhhhh. It wasn't too devastating.  He did, after all, have curly hair and his name was Cliff. Tragic, right? I was opening a Mimi's location at the time, and like the little single-somethings my colleagues and I were as we traveled around opening restaurants we found ourselves often dating the trainees. (I think that was "frowned upon" and yet, somehow, we always got away with it.) So as the "kids" filtered in, one by one, on orientation day, we would call "dibs" on who we would attempt to swoon.  Cliff was the swoonee- I called dibs. We dated, it was relatively pleasant until.... I discovered he was also dating one of the other trainers. If she wasn't so hideous I would have had to wreck her face, but mother nature had taken care of that for me.  Karma often works backwards, it would seem. Because ce...

On one of my trips to Ireland I met a boy. His name was Shane. Cute, right?  Doesn't get more leprechan than that. The boy and I met at a pub/club one night.  Some of the tourists on my bus walked me there since my sister didn't want to go out.  The club was called "The Crypt" and perhaps that should have been a fair warning to stay away.  We had been staying in Killarney and my dancing feet just didn't want to stay in. At the end of the night, instead of letting me walk home, the boy offered to drive me.  Because I was once a bit reckless and stupid, I obliged him. And anyway, he was cute.  Ya'll know how I have a thing for the exports. And we segwayed with a nightly tour around town.  He showed me the bar where he worked weekends, local eateries that had now closed for the evening, and he took me to Ross Castle.  It was spooky and magical.  I wondered if he would murder me and leave my listless body t...