One of the girls in our "girls night out" suggested that I go on a blind date with her boss.
It used to be that I would never even CONSIDER a blind date, but having had just five dates in all of 2005, I've loosened up on that rule.
The "boss" is described as a huge Cubs fan (good), works out a lot (good), 52 years old (not ideal, but not horrible), bald (ditto) and "kind of like a dad" (um, ..what??). It occurred to me that Matchmaker, being all of 26 or 27, might consider fatherhood the final nail in the coffin where romance is concerned.
Matchmaker and I only met through a mutual friend that evening, so she really doesn't know anything about me (except for my age). What would make her think that her boss and I would make a good match?
Another of our girls gave me Matchmaker's cell phone number and suggested I call and ask about her boss. I haven't called yet because I'm afraid that Matchmaker might consider anyone over 40 as dead and buried so they'd match up just fine (like all-white gym socks thrown together in a drawer.)
I was thinking about the blind date possibility this morning over my coffee. I mentioned the situation to my Mexican friends at the counter of my usual breakfast place and apparently the customer at the end overheard me.
Getting up to leave, the woman, a senior citizen who not long ago was beautiful, tapped me on the arm and said, "After two marriages and two love affairs, I met the love of my life at 50 on a blind date. Then he died and I haven't met anyone since.
"It's one night out of your life. Go!"
At least I could make the call...
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Thoughts for the day
Random thoughts on a boring Wednesday...
- Is 40 too old to be sending an older brother a birthday card containing the word "fart"?
- USA Channel is featuring an interesting men's Olympic hockey game between the Czech Republic and Slovakia. Whaddya wanna bet these guys shared a backyard fence up until a few years ago?
- The absolute best present for a woman after a bitter divorce battle can be found here.
- Milka and Lindt make the absolute BEST CHOCOLATE EVER!!! This came to mind today because one of my wonderful co-workers (they aren't all wonderful, but this one is) brought me a surfboard-sized slab of Milka from Germany.
- What's the best way to announce the grand re-opening of a newly renovated bedroom? (And try not to get me flagged by the blogger police, will ya??)
- Is 40 too old to be sending an older brother a birthday card containing the word "fart"?
- USA Channel is featuring an interesting men's Olympic hockey game between the Czech Republic and Slovakia. Whaddya wanna bet these guys shared a backyard fence up until a few years ago?
- The absolute best present for a woman after a bitter divorce battle can be found here.
- Milka and Lindt make the absolute BEST CHOCOLATE EVER!!! This came to mind today because one of my wonderful co-workers (they aren't all wonderful, but this one is) brought me a surfboard-sized slab of Milka from Germany.
- What's the best way to announce the grand re-opening of a newly renovated bedroom? (And try not to get me flagged by the blogger police, will ya??)
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Game on!
Firecracker and I met up with a group of other single gals for a "girls night out" on Friday. The original plan was to attend a singles mixer but that ended up as a bust because the event was an estrogen tsunami with a measly dozen men in attendance.
Ah...spring.
Temperatures go up, hemlines go up, libidos go up. Oh, and it's baseball season. In spring there are endless opportunities, boatloads of potential and no crushed feelings...yet.
At our second (and last) stop of the evening, I saw a potential suitor arrive with his wingman. He had already secured a cocktail and was heading to the middle room of the bar. It's been a while and my form might be rusty but I was willing to step in and take a few swings.
The stats on this guy looked good: over 30, never been married, a bit over 6-feet tall, good smile, nice hair, owns his own home...and he's a lawyer! Wingman jumped in with some Jerry Maguire-like PR, informing me that this guy OWNS the law firm where he works.
"Wow! He hit that one a mile!!"
Okay, so the guy has some money. That's nice. It would be a nice change of pace to date a man who doesn't consider pizza and a movie a "fancy evening." He probably owns more than one suit, too. (So I like my guys to look nice, so sue me!...pardon the pun)
But is that all there is to him?
No.
Is he the endangered species of man known as sports fan?
Yes!
Does he like to travel?
Yes, he owns a boat!
More importantly, is he interested in me or just waiting for something better to walk by??
Um, well...I've never been called a "minx" before. I'll take that as a good sign.
"This guy has future all-star written all over him."
As the night wore on, my friends decided to hang 'em up since the talent pool had diminished significantly. In the other room, the Lawyer became increasingly drunk. Strangely enough, I was sober from the alcohol, but drunk on the attention. Soon, the Lawyer was sitting on a stool with his arms around my waist (yay!! for my sexy, hot, fuzzy sweater!)
"So, I'm 32. How old are you?"
"I'm 40." I answered, backing away a bit to see his reaction.
"That's great. I love older women. I always go out with older women."
"Oooh, hit by the pitch! That's gonna leave a mark."
The evening went downhill from there. It was pretty clear to me that the Lawyer wasn't so much looking to begin a relationship as he was trying to jump-start a booty call.
As a veteran of the game, I know the importance of a good nights' sleep, so I jumped in a cab - alone- and wrote off the evening as good practice for what could be a very exciting season.
Ah...spring.
Temperatures go up, hemlines go up, libidos go up. Oh, and it's baseball season. In spring there are endless opportunities, boatloads of potential and no crushed feelings...yet.
At our second (and last) stop of the evening, I saw a potential suitor arrive with his wingman. He had already secured a cocktail and was heading to the middle room of the bar. It's been a while and my form might be rusty but I was willing to step in and take a few swings.
The stats on this guy looked good: over 30, never been married, a bit over 6-feet tall, good smile, nice hair, owns his own home...and he's a lawyer! Wingman jumped in with some Jerry Maguire-like PR, informing me that this guy OWNS the law firm where he works.
"Wow! He hit that one a mile!!"
Okay, so the guy has some money. That's nice. It would be a nice change of pace to date a man who doesn't consider pizza and a movie a "fancy evening." He probably owns more than one suit, too. (So I like my guys to look nice, so sue me!...pardon the pun)
But is that all there is to him?
No.
Is he the endangered species of man known as sports fan?
Yes!
Does he like to travel?
Yes, he owns a boat!
More importantly, is he interested in me or just waiting for something better to walk by??
Um, well...I've never been called a "minx" before. I'll take that as a good sign.
"This guy has future all-star written all over him."
As the night wore on, my friends decided to hang 'em up since the talent pool had diminished significantly. In the other room, the Lawyer became increasingly drunk. Strangely enough, I was sober from the alcohol, but drunk on the attention. Soon, the Lawyer was sitting on a stool with his arms around my waist (yay!! for my sexy, hot, fuzzy sweater!)
"So, I'm 32. How old are you?"
"I'm 40." I answered, backing away a bit to see his reaction.
"That's great. I love older women. I always go out with older women."
"Oooh, hit by the pitch! That's gonna leave a mark."
The evening went downhill from there. It was pretty clear to me that the Lawyer wasn't so much looking to begin a relationship as he was trying to jump-start a booty call.
As a veteran of the game, I know the importance of a good nights' sleep, so I jumped in a cab - alone- and wrote off the evening as good practice for what could be a very exciting season.
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