Greetings, everyone, and my apologies for my rather prolonged absense from blogging. I've been on a legit tear all summer, squeezing every ounce of fun out of every weekend. My normally regimented, get-things-done approach to the weekend has been replaced by a devil-may-care attitude that's left me with an absolutely filthy house with sticky floors, no food, and piles of dirty laundry.
Laura moved out three weeks ago and I've yet to be to the grocery store since. Fortunately my local Citgo gas station has kept me supplied with milk and bananas. You would be surprised how long a dozen eggs, a few bananas and a jar of peanut butter can get keep you alive. Basically I've been living on leftovers all summer. Laura stopped in this week and took a peak in my refrigerator and gave me a rather disapproving look. Hey, who has the time for grocery shopping?
Laundry is another chore that's fallen off my list. You know it's bad when you start digging through your drawers and start seeing underwear you haven't seen in decades. Last week things got so bad that my only options were the oddly colored panties or my uncomfortable-but-sexy lingerie.
So I sit here in my magenta granny panties to write this much-overdue blog post with beer still in my hair from Lollapolooza, my ears still ringing and adrenaline still coursing through me from Green Day's epic closing set, I can say it's been one hell of a summer!
The beer, by the way, was mine, as much as I would love to blame some drunk Gen-Z'er. It was from my open beer can that I logically thought I could put in the side pocket of my backpack while I used the dreaded porta-potty. Actually worked great right up until I bent down to see if there was toilet paper and it poured down my back and into my hair. Damn my kitten-sized bladder...and gravity!
Spent a lot of time on the beach, some nice bike rides, played a lot of tennis, had several girlfriends visit, but it's definitely been a summer of music for me. I've been buying concert tickets like a drunken sailor so yes, I have seen a lot of shows. With no one to say no, I'm finding myself unable--or perhaps unwilling--to not go to every concert I possibly can.
This carefree attitude has extended to my dating life. I'm dating all the guys. I mean not literally but fully embracing the "why not" mentality has opened the door to some interesting candidates. Not sure actual keepers but has certainly made for a fun, busy and interesting summer.
The Summer of "Why Not?"
One we'll call Biker Boy, who has tattoos and does not own a car, just a Triumph motorcycle. He does, however, live on the beach--a bonus! I balked at the idea of riding on the motorcycle initially until I realized they can park those things anywhere, making it highly advantageous in getting around a very congested city. While it's been fun, I think biker boys and convertibles are the same; fun in the summer but lose their luster once the weather turns, also known as the other seven months of the year here in Chicago.
With my newly emblazened, devil-may-care dating attitude, I went out with his several times before I noticed he noted he was "non-vanilla" on his dating profile. I had somehow missed this. I will define since I'm going to assume that the lion's share of you have no idea what that means. Non-vanilla means they have some type of sexual fetish. Yikes, I know.
Not being a coward though, and also thinking this might be great material for my book, I thought why not? See the trend here? What was the fetish? One night he came out with a bottle of lotion and a towel. Go time, I assume. He gave me a great foot massage so I thought, "ok, it's a foot fetish" not at all sure what that would entail but also now buckled in for the ride. Felt good, but alas that was not it.
So after dancing around the question for several dates, he finally confessed that he was a dominant. Hmmm. Without missing a beat, I told him my rapper name was "Bossy by Nature" so I wasn't sure I could roll with this. He insisted there would be no pain, no spanking, etc. as he is not a dominatrix but then there was talk of restraints and he did ask me to pick a safe word, which is when things stalled out. It had to start with a P. Pickles? Pineapple? Picnic? Being a writer, how could I possibly narrow it down?
I also dated another golfer, God help me. As you remember from "Golf, the Cruel Mistress of Summer," they are never my first pick, especially in the summer, but he's super sweet and my age so I decided again, why not? Since I've been trying (not always successfully 😉) to date guys my age, I've come to the rather grim realization that all men my age either have a gut issue, a bum ticker or a bad back.
Poor golfer dude has two of the three; back issues that prevent him from walking long distances and had open heart surgery to unclog four of his arteries last year. No way, this guy can keep up with me, although I'm not sure if it's my hyperactivity or diet that will kill him first. Perhaps fortunately (for him), golfer guy is moving back to the suburbs next weekend so the ending of that chapter has been written. Long-distance relationships never work. Next!
Then there was a Rich Dude. It always seems intriguing to date a wealthy guy; they typically live in McMansions and drive fancy cars. This one had a big house in Chicago and an apartment in New York City. Initially it seemed worthy of a summer fling as the idea of a few fun weekends in the big Apple sounded interesting.
This summer he took me to an art show. Apparently he's a collector because the artists all knew him and were laser-focused on kissing his ass. We went to one booth, a new artist to the event, who created these very interesting stainless steel sculptures that spun. They were really cool and I quietly told the artist "you've got a live one on your hands! Reel in the whale!" My date said, "which one do you like?" I pointed to one, and he bought it. Only $9K.
There are also always offers of trips, which again sounds good but after a half dozen dates, he wanted me to fly off somewhere with him. Jesus, I barely knew the guy and he barely knew me. He always seemed more concerned about my lack of availability (a common complaint) then about actually getting to know me.
What often also comes with these guys is a sense of entitlement; privledge that I find super annoying. You know the type; get seated in a restaurant but first has to look around to assess if there is a better table. As a former hostess, I find people like this intolerable.
Bottom line is I have plenty of money to be happy. I've had more money and been less happy than I am today. I don't need anyone to buy me happiness so dealing with this type of entitled person isn't something I have patience for.
There were certainly many others. I'm still seeing the young firefighter, doing my part to support the community's first responders. Not all heros wear capes. Double booked a few weekends ago, and made one date drive me to my next date. Hey, you only get one trip around the sun, as they say!
Well I have many blog topics I want to write about so I'll close this one before it gets too long. And, I'm once again double booked this afternoon so wish me luck!
I hope this finds you all enjoying this last part of the summer. It's going fast, my friends, and soon fall will be opon us. Enjoy it while it's here. I certainly am...
Be well, my friends. Until next time...
Barb
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