Banana Split

Happy 2013!  Since the holidays have just come and went and a new year has just arrived,  I figured it would only be appropriate of me to share one of my most memorable new years eve stories to date.  Now, I have had quite a few interesting New Years Eve's over the past decade: going to a gay and lesbian bar in the deep mission while having a tranny buy me drinks all night, or the one where I went to a big party in S.F and had a Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction while people took pictures, but this story, serves to be one of my favorites.

A few years ago, on New Years Eve day, I started my morning with a long run to make sure I fit in my dress for that night.  As I was at a stop sign, jogging in place, I stepped down wrong on the uneven concrete, and rolled my ankle.   Because only I could basically break my ankle while running in place, I immediately turned around and crawled back to my apartment as it started swelling.  My roommate took me to the hospital for x-rays, and they put on a soft cast on my ankle and gave me crutches.  Determined to not let it ruin my night, I still proceeded to go out that night, high heels and all of course.

After a nice dinner, my friend and I ended up in the marina at "cougar cafe".  As I was waiting at the bar with my crutches to try and get a drink, I over heard this guy pulling out all the stops in his attempt to hit on some girl and her friend.  After listening to what I thought were some pretty funny lines that the girls just weren't quite getting, I happened to interject to save his failing butt. I cant remember what I said, but I'm sure it was along the lines of wondering if there was a valet for my crutches, and if he would be willing to watch them while I got myself a drink.  The guy realizing his jokes were a huge miss with the girls, turned away from them and started talking to me.  We ended up talking for quite awhile and as it progressed closer and closer to midnight, he asked if I had a new years kiss, and if not, if i wanted to be his.  Since he had been providing most of my drinks and entertainment for the night, I figured why the heck not.  A few minutes to midnight, he said he had to go to the bathroom and would be right back.  As I was finishing up my drink and looking around the bar, I saw some guy dressed up in a giant banana costume, like the kind those poor guys have to wear who work at jamba juice.  Thinking who the hell would dress up on New Year's even in a banana suite, I noticed that giant banana was making their way towards me.  In sheer panic, I realized this giant banana was the guy I had just promised to kiss at midnight.  He comes over with an even dorkier smirk on his face claiming hes all ready.  I ask him what the hell was going on, and why he decided to dress like a fruit, and not the good kind I am used to in San Fran, and he tells me it was part of a bet that he lost.  As the count down begins, I realize since I am basically a gimp who cant get far without crutches, that I couldnt exactly run.  I kept to my guns, and kissed the giant banana. 

It may not have been the best kiss of my life, but it definitely was the most memorable one.

Back in the Game

I normally try to steer clear of dealing out too much advice ( I mean honestly, who really wants to take life advice from me after reading some of these dating escapades?)  But one thing I do know is, Sunday funday is pretty much always a bad idea. To take this notion a step further, a first date AFTER you have spent the day Sunday funday-ing it up, is the worst decision you could pretty much every make (besides wearing denim on denim)  I know what you are thinking, there are a few occasions where Sunday funday can be fun and necessary.  Like a friends brunch, that happens to include bottomless mimosas, or a family reunion where drinking is the only way to get through your weird relatives and all the questions you keep getting hounded with of "have you met anyone? When are YOU going to get married"?  But if you are someone who normally does Sunday Funday every weekend (ie. Sunday recess or kickball) and you are over the age of 26, you might want to reevaluate your life decisions. 

Let me start at the beginning.  Last week I went to drinks with a coworker to catch up on life.  The minute we got into the bar, I noticed not only was there a plethora of good looking men, which as most girls can attest to, can be rather rare in SF, but there happened to be a Kellan Lutz look alike.  If you are unsure of who that is, for all you non twilight junkies, the boy basically looked spot on to the picture on your right...yes, gorgeous.  As we sat down at the bar and ordered a drink,  his very drunk coworker stumbled over to talk to my friend and I.  He wanted to know who of his coworkers we thought were good looking, gesturing towards one of the men who was definitely missing his two front teeth.  We politely said we were sure that they were very nice guys, then turned back to our martinis.  At this point, he brought all of his coworkers over, including the KL look alike.  He and I started talking, and after finding we had quite a few things in common, he asked for my number.  After he left I was pretty sure not only would I not hear from him, not because he was hot, but because I kind of gave a terrified look when he told me his age, which was significantly younger than me.  So it was much to my surprise and delight when he called me the following night to set up a date for Sunday night. I knew I had a friends brunch on Sunday and would be doing a small bit of day drinking, but since this was going to be my first date "back in the game" after my most recent break up, I figured I couldn't turn it down, and that a few drinks might actually help loosen up my nerves.

Sunday rolled around and my friends and I headed out to the said birthday party at a bar.  I vowed only to have a few drinks and be home by 4pm. I made this statement to all my friends, who basically at that point said "challenge accepted".  My guy friends vowed that their new goal was to see how tanked I could get, before going on my date, as only your best guy friends will do.  I think they presumed it would be blog material gold.  As I some how got roped into birthday fireball shots through out the day, one of my guy friends really encouraged me to cancel on my date.  He felt like it was probably in my best interest NOT to go on this date.  I of course, kept claiming I was fine, and that if I cancelled last minute, I might never get to see what it was like to be with a vampire from twilight.  Next thing I knew, it was 6pm. I was feeling warm and tipsy, and had to book it home to freshen up for my date.  I haphazardly pulled on a dress, and tried to touch up my makeup and try my best to not look like I had been day drinking for six straight hours (which was a challenge in of itself) and ran out.  I got to our meeting place, which was closed, so we decided to go else where.  We got drinks at a wine bar, where I rambled on an on about whatever happened to come to my mind.  He happened to mention that one of his brothers was gay and in turn, I launched into all my favorite most inappropriate stories I have had in the castro and else where with my gay guy friends.  I asked if I may have seen his brother at the Folsom street fair, which he seemed not amused by.  Next, we decided to go for dinner.  On our way to dinner, we passed my apt where I kept saying "wave at my building!!" Once we got there, the drunk munchies set in, and I decided to order literally three different items off the menu.  I believe at one point, I even picked food off of his plate.  We then some how got on the conversation of 80s movies.  Upon hearing he had not seen almost any of my favorite's (probably because he was almost born in the 90's....) I frantically decided to wave down our waitress like an air traffic controller just to ask if she had seen any of them.  Then told her she should sit down and have some of my sweet potato fries.  At that point, I decided to show him all the incredibly embarrassing texts my guy friends kept sending me about me being drunk and on a date.  After dinner was done, and I had managed to tell my fair share of embarrassing information, we left the restaurant.  He gave me a quick hug good bye, probably to avoid the unmistakeable stench of whiskey and made the pleasantries of saying we should do it again sometime.  I wanted to send him a text after to clear things up, but after contemplating it, I wasn't sure what is worse; him thinking I'm a few sandwich's short of a picnic, or him knowing I showed up hammered on our first date.  Needless to say ladies, that boy is still very much single, and probably scarred from our date. 

The Flaker

After a summer hiatus of dating, I went on my first date again.   This guy was trying to pursue me for months, but I kept brushing him off because he didn't live close.  He ended up moving closer to SF and messaged me telling me so.  I figured since I hadn't been dating anyone, I would give him a try.  He tried to set up a date, and each time he did, he would end up flaking on it.  I was about ready to say forget it, when he finally promised he would stick with the next date time planned.

He didn't live in the city, and showed up to my apartment on his bike (and by this I don't mean motorcycle).  The minute he got into my apartment, he asked if he could take a shower.  I looked at him and laughed, thinking that he was joking.  He wasn't.  I looked at him confused, thinking, who the hell would show up to a virtual strangers house, on a date, and ask to take a shower??  I begrudgingly got him a towel and showed him to our bathroom.  For the first 20 minutes, I heard him take a call/meeting in my bathroom while I sat on my couch waiting for him.  After about 30 minutes in there, he emerged.  He asked if I had any beer, and when I said no, he said OK, lets go get something to eat instead.  When we left my apartment, he instantly put his arm around me, and since I didn't follow suit, he grabbed my hand and put it around his waist and held it there so I couldn't let go.  I was beyond creep-ed out by this.  Not only was this guy already getting on my last nerves, I was really starting to think he was a weirdo.  We picked a place to eat, and were sitting outside the restaurant waiting for a table to free up.  There were a few odd comments he made that sparked mental red flags, such as that he recently lived in the back of his car for a month so he could surf every day, and hadn't really had a "real job" in a few years.  He also  mentioned that he had gone to burning man eight times, one of which was when he hopped the fence and ran across the desert for two hours to get into it, but I tried to dismiss these comments and view him as "quirky"since I was basically hard up for a date.

I then started telling him a story about something, when he ended up interrupting me mid-sentence saying he was just too hungry and couldn't concentrate.  I told him he could go inside and see if we could get any snacks.  He came back a few minutes later and told me he had ordered our dinner.  As much as I found the other things slightly annoying, this seriously pissed me off.  He just took it upon himself to go in and order what he wanted for us, which turned out to be an anchovies pizza.  Who the hell who isn't my grandparents age orders that?!? I suffered through the rest of dinner, and we walked home.  When we got home, I kept repeatedly saying how exhausted I was and wanted to go to sleep.  He said he didn't have "night biking gear" and couldn't ride home in the dark.  All I could think was then why the hell did you ride your bike to my house? I suggested he take my couch, and he replied that he didn't think he would fit on it, and then went and plopped down on my bed.  I got in bed fully clothed and that's when he tried to make his move.  His "move" consisted of baby talk and asking for "kisses" and trying to stab me with his tongue.  I thought he was joking, and started laughing, and he actually looked confused.  I told him we should just go to sleep.  During the night, he kept waking up and asking if I was awake so he could tell me about his crazy dreams.  One was about how he was eating a pastrami sandwich.  By this point I was figuring this guy had done some major acid trips in the past. I kept wondering if I could fake a family emergence phone call to get him out of my house but couldn't come up with a good plan.  Come 7am, I made up some excuse of where I had to go and hustled him out of my house.

Two days later, I received this series of texts from this gem:

Him (5:14pm) - "I just saw this sweatshirt and thought you would appreciate it.  Its a rainbow sweatshirt, with a giant t-Rex on it and a Ferrari to scale.  Hilarious right!?"

Me (5:18pm)- "are you high?"

Him (5:18pm) - "only on life" 

Him (7:42pm) - "Apparently my roommate thought that sweatshirt was weird. What is wrong with you people..."

Him (8:02pm) - "I better just let our differences on the T-Rex Ferrari rainbow sweatshirt go.  I guess you had to be there.  How was your weekend?"

Him (9:15pm) - "I'm afraid there is too much of a separation in our goofiness.  Too serious indeed.  I bid you adieu.  Live long and prosper"

Sometimes a dating hiatus really makes you appreciate a person when you go on a date with them.  This date, only made me realize I came back into the game far too soon.

Fishing off the Company Pier

I will admit, as many times as girls in SF (myself included) like to blame awful dates on the men who seem to be ruined by  the "Peter Pan" Syndrome, it honestly is not always their fault when a date goes south.  Some times, just like this story, I am definitely the guilty party.

A few years ago, when I was brand spanking new to my company and all the men in it looked better than a free for all at a buffet, I happened to embark on the biggest no-no anyone can make.  I tried to date a coworker.

In light of my recent hire at my job, a happy hour was arranged for my arrival, where almost everyone on our floor would head out to a local bar, all to welcome me to the company. One co-worker in particular would make little excuses to come talk to me or flirt, and would ask me out for lunch or drinks on occasion, but nothing too major. I was hoping this work outing would be the perfect time to solidify things a little more between the two of us.

For my welcome party everyone young or essentially everyone who just liked to drink, headed out to a near by bar.  Since my department is pretty much made up of mostly guys, (I mean common, I work in tech support) that was basically all that attended, which means almost all wanted to "welcome" me to the company with a shot.  I blame it on my Santa Barbara ways, but it is really hard to let any drink go untouched, especially a free one. After a few hours worth of celebratory drinks and shots,  I told my co-worker who I liked, that I wasnt feeling so hot.  As he looked at me and probably saw me with half closed eyes, staggering back and forth, he did the only nice thing he could, and offered to take me back to his place since it was only a few blocks away.  He helped me back as best as he could.  When we were in the safety of his apartment, I threw up...on myself.  If my new coworkers mission was to see me get plastered, they had greatly accomplished what they set their minds too.  He told me where his bathroom was, and I went to shower off.  When I staggered back, he had a T-shirt and shorts laid out for me to change into. He muttered something about it only being 8:30pm and him going back out.  I waved him away and barely made it into the new clothes and his bed before passing out.

I woke up from a dead sleep to someone moving.  I had my arms around someone and I was definitely acting as the big spoon.  The room was pitch black and I had absolutely no clue where I was.  I turned to my left and was able to get a good glimpse at the person laying next to me, only to find to my astonishment that it was a girl. I sat up abruptly and in a daze, to basically say where the F$%& am I?  her response was "you were snoring and cuddling me, I thought you were my roommate, who sometimes climbs into my bed drunk." Since I couldnt pin point what exactly happened before this point, I asked her to name who her roommates were since trying to think made a sharp pain ring in my head.  When she finally names off my coworker, the light bulb goes off.  I let her know thats who I remember coming with.  She starts laughing, and offers to take me back to his room since I have absolutely no clue which one is his, and I dont really want to climb in bed with another random girl and officially get named the creeper of the house.  She leads me by the hand back to his room, opens the door and I walk in.   I glance at the clock, it was 3am which means he had definitely gotten home from the bar and must have realized the girl he put to bed was no longer there.  Obviously I was real enthused by the lack of his concern.  When I bring this up to him, he said he figured I couldn't have gone to far since I left all my clothes and purse there, and figured I would show up somewhere, eventually.  

The next morning I couldn't hustle out of his place fast enough.  I was terrified to face his roommate who I had essentially tried to take advantage of.  After that night, his flirts turned into just cordial "hello's".  I did not blame him in the least.

Drop it Like it's Hot

Recently, one of my most favorite coworkers who has been like a sister to me the last few years at my job, left our company.  To wish her farewell on her new endeavors, we did what we always did when someone left the company, got a promotion, got hired or merely had a bad day; we went to a bar.

I headed over to the bar with my work hubby, where all our other coworkers were already partaking in the happy hour.  A new male friend of mine who I flirted back and forth with, texted me to see what I was up to.  He asked if I wanted to grab drinks with him, since that seems to be everyone's ritual after work on a Friday night.  I invited him to come and meet me and my coworkers out.  He agreed and said he would be there shortly.  I then informed my work hubby that he had to promise to be on his best behavior, and not try and make him feel too uncomfortable.  As I said this to him, he was in the process of bring up gay porn pictures of men on his phone to show random men attempting to get drinks at the bar to see how squirmish they could get.  I said a little prayer and hoped for the best.

The guy showed up shortly after, said hi and right away offered to buy my coworker and I drinks. 
After a few rounds and even him hitting it off with my work hubby and not blushing once at all the inappropriate pics and comments that went his way, I decided this guy was pretty awesome.  The girl who's happy hour it was, was well past drunk after a few celebratory shots.  We decided to move the party to a new location, somewhere with food.  We all headed to the mission, including the guy.  After a few more drinks at the restaurant, the flirting really started to heat up.  He became much more touchy feely, and kept saying how we would make a cute couple.   It was then brought up that a night of dancing was to follow dinner.  I agreed because as I have mentioned, when I am drunk I think I can pop a move like usher when really I look like those rejects who try out for "So You Think You Can Dance" just to get ratings and laughs.  After dinner when all of us had a nice buzz going, my work hubby, the guy and I, decided to head to a local bar in the mission that had a dance floor.  Right when we got in, the guy bought me a martini (like I needed one, I was almost a sure thing by this point).  We all went out to the dance floor and that's when the real fun happened.  My work hubby convinced the guy to take his shirt off and dance with him on stage, waving it around in the air.  After their little show, I decided it was time for me to break out the big guns, and do my favorite dance move to show off. This special dance is nicknamed  "the Santa Barbara slut dance" because that's exactly what it looked like as your doing it.  An easy whore, which almost always followed with a night that fit the name.  My friends and I perfected it while on stage at Q's during my four years at UCSB (glad that degree got me something useful). As he came back to the dance floor, I went in for my signature move, which is basically something only strippers at the Spearment rhino do.  You slowly move down there leg with your body, bounce a few times on the ground while down there, and then slowly come up all seductively.  My work hubby was cheering me on, and when I got to the ground to bounce, I heard/felt a huge tear, and a cool breeze hitting my bare ass.  I jumped up right away and covered my butt.  I asked my work hubby to inspect the damage.  He said that it didn't look to bad at all, (then again he was drunk) and that I really shouldn't worry since I was in the mission and the hipsters do it all the time to make themselves look cool.  I right away ordered another drink hoping that the alcohol would make me forget the air being blown on my butt.  We partied for another hour, dancing my butt off literally, until the stares and points started becoming overwhelming.  I made my work hubby take a picture to show me how bad the damage was.  This is what he showed me:

I should have been mortified, but oddly, I wasnt.  If anything, I think the rip helped increase my game for that night.  Nothing came of the guy and I, maybe because he learned I really dont have any sexy moves in me.  If I have learned one lesson from that night, its that I am officially to old to still "drop it like its hot".

Hot, Messy, SH%$ Show

Every year, people who work at my company and for our partner companies, experience this magical week full of high-end parties and drunken debauchery.  We look forward to it all year. It keeps us motivated to power through our shitty weeks, poor quotas, or late nights at the office, all so we can attend this glorious event.  As the party invites have already started to flood in for this years momentous occasion, I am reminded of the wonderful time I had at this said event last year, as well as the dating mishap that followed.

A few days before, I was trolling through facebook updates on my news feed when I came across "Prince Albert" (See "Charlie Sheen has Nothing on him").  Someone had just updated facebook with a whole bunch of pictures of him.  Apparently he was now doing male modeling.  And from the looks of it, not any kind of male modeling, but underwear modeling.  After seeing his half naked pictures of him and other half naked men, including one with a midget, this seemed like a perfect career path for him.  As I scrolled through these drool worthy pics, my gay work hubby saw the pictures and sprinted over.  After seeing this pic in particular (the one on the right) he said I HAD to invite him to his annual LGBT event he was hosting.  When I reminded him of how awful my date had been with this shit show six months prior, he said all the gays at his event wouldnt care how crazy this guy is as long as he shows up wearing just this.  I had to admit, seeing a picture like this, did make me weigh in on the hot/crazy scale, and I started thinking that the hot end was about to win out.  I decided to message prince albert, made some small chat, and told him about the event and how he should come (it was open bar after all).  He agreed, and we set the time and location.

The following week was the party, and all my coworkers and I were at my work hubby's event in the mission enjoying our selves with the endless flow of free alcohol.   My work hubby kept asking when mr. hottie was going to show up, and telling all his other friends how they might have a chance at turning him since he was already slightly questionable, on basically everything he did in life.  As I was throwing down a few drinks, prince albert shows up.  I have to admit, he looked freaking hot, and I was definitely the envy of all the gay men there.  Prince albert and I had a few drinks and somehow got on the topic about how horrible my allergies were.  He said he had something that would help, and gave me a pill.  The pill was blue and kind of a weird shaped, definitely not your normal alegra.  Normally, I would have questioned it far more, but earlier that morning, my much older male coworker, was showing me his new claritin pills, and they were blue and odd shaped just like these, and he was remarking on how it looked exactly like viagra (can we talk about awkward work convos?)  I took prince alberts offering and continued socializing and drinking my cocktail.  About an hour later, my sinus's had not only cleared up, but my whole body felt incriedable.  I turned to prince albert with a huge grin I could not seem to shake, and was like, wow, this alergie medicine I think is kicking in strong with the alcohol.  He smiled and said, "oh, ya, about that, it was an E pill, I told you it would make you feel better".

Ok, first off, I had never done E in my life.  I should have been furious that he would give me an E pill let alone give me one at a WORK function while my boss was there. Yet all I could do was swear at him through a huge perma-smile. I was trying to muster a pissed off feeling, but none wanted to surface. I wish I could say that the memories that ensued were created in my drug induced haze, but sadly, these events really did end up happening:

•  prince albert decided to challenge my boss to a push up contest, at the bar none the less right in the middle of the dance floor calling him a "pussy" if he turned it down.  
• As I sat there in a daze, he non stop tried convincing one of my female and VERY married and housewife esq with three kids to go home with him.  Apparently his argument to her was that he had never "done a mom" and needed to check it off his bucket list and promised to "rock her world".  He also assured her that I wouldnt in the least mind.
• He asked my work hubby if he could have a "sword fight" with him in the bathroom...if you know what I mean....
• He and I got in a huge fight because he was SURE I was hiding his ID from him.

Yea...my only goal for this years event...bring someone LESS memorable.

The Case of Amnesia

I recently received a message on linked in from a guy I briefly went on a few dates with six years ago.  His message was nice, slightly charming, and all around friendly.  We exchanged a few emails before he asked for my number.  He mentioned how he would love to catch up with me and my life over some drinks. Thinking that it sounded harmless enough, I agreed to drinks. I kept racking my brain repeatedly on why I only went on a few dates with this guy who seemed to be a pretty decent catch, yet some how I was unable to pin point why exactly it dissolved.  Oh, if only my mind had not failed me...

I met him at a local sushi resturant on polk that I had never been to.  It seemed pretty loud and croweded and overall a good people watching place.  I saw him almost the minute I walked in, and he looked pretty much exactly as I remembered. I headed over, gave him a hug, said my pleasantries and sat down.  He ordered me a drink almost immediately, which raised his stock sky high.  Conversation seemed to go ok and he seemed easy enough to get along with.  It seemed to be going well, but no real sparks were flying.  Since I couldn't seem to pin point why exactly I stopped seeing him in the first place,   I decided to chalk it up to my immaturity at the time.

As the sake bombs kept flowing, and so did the DJ music, he suggested moving to a new bar for more drinks.  As anyone who knows me can say, I get an itch to dance once I have thrown back a few drinks.  So I suggested a bar that had dancing as well.  He kind of gave me a hesitant look when I mentioned my need for dancing, but I figured that was because I  most boys arent keen on it.  I kept insisting, almost to the point of begging, so he begrudgeningly agreed.  I stood up, and put on my coat, as he did as well.  We started walking, and that is when I realized it.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.  Watching him walk, I remembered everything about dating him before. As he was somewhat limping and hobbling, I remembered I used to call him "the one legger", as I was pretty much postive he was missing a leg.  Now, I know what your thinking, "how mean, you would dismiss a guy because hes missing a limb".  But at the time, I remember I had JUST gone on a date with some other guy who ALSO was missing a leg unbeknowst to me, (Girls, don't ever agree to a date with a guy you meet out who never once stands up).  It wasnt the one leg that got me, it was the fact he seemed super weird about it.  Wouldn't do outdoorsy things, go to the beach, and preferably only wanted night time dates.  All things I found oddly weird, as would almost anyone.

I bit my tongue in pure horror realizing I just insisted to this guy with a prostetic, that we HAD to go dancing.  As we got there, I tried retracting my words, but it was too late.  We got up to the dance floor, and he started gimping back and forth on his one good leg.  Feeling pure dread, I offered to buy a drink for us, something strong so I wouldnt notice as much that he was loping around with one real foot.  After getting as liquored up as I could, I kept being polite and dancing with him, bitting my tongue the whole time.  He seemed to be having a great time, getting into his little one legged jig, but I couldn't handle it anymore.  I told him I had an early morning run and needed to head home (thank you TNT for being my excuse every time).  He looked disappointed and made a comment about how he was really having fun and just getting into it.  I'm sure he was, but I could not handle another moment of watching him painstakingly dance.  We left the club, I gave him a hug, and headed home.

After that night I decided that I really need to make a dating list of who has their limbs so I don't end up on another date in six years with the "one legger".