Act Three: Three Babies and a Little Man

Somehow I randomly stumbled across this blog and shockingly I haven't finished the story. Hell of a suspenseful novel I created.

So there we were, squeezed in between two baby chairs. Well, my friend was, I sat shot gun. Clearly! I'm sure the conversation was nothing short of stimulating on the way home. I don't recall (it was about 8 months ago), what I do recall is hearing the latest Beyoncé track and blaring his radio so I could jam. This is horrifying for many a reason. One, I just touched the mans radio without even asking, and two, no one in my life would say I'm blessed in the dancing or singing departments. I would like to say that I would beg to differ. We agree to disagree on that one.

You can now add one more thing to my growing resume...master of first impressions with men.

Somehow it didn't scare him away, so all three of us went into my apartment to watch some basketball.

While I was getting us drinks in the kitchen I did the girly thing and started badgering my friend abort
about if she liked him. Only problem with these questioning tactics was that my kitchen is only separated from my family room by a thin wall. So he heard everything.

Yet, Antwoine still stayed. Probably another red flag. I mean I was just one big red flag that evening (reminders Hawks had just gotten defeated, so I wasn't on my A game #amIever), so for him to see past all of that was strange.

Cut to a couple weeks later when he showed up after I called him in less than 20 minutes (I'm pretty sure he lives more than 30 minutes away). What did he fly here?

Come to find out he left all three of his cherubs at home to come kick it with me. I know I'm a special kind of wonderful, but this was a little bit ridiculous. And neglectful.

Cheerio Antwoine. Thanks for the....ride home.

PS-considering I am writing this three fourths of a year later you would expect Mr. Sir Babies for Days would be long gone. However, two weeks ago I received a text from an unknown number. It turned out to be him again. Seriously, why don't men get rid of my number? I know, I know...just to g damn amazing.

We started talking a bit and guess what? He gave me a ride home after a friends birthday party. And then left right away after saying that we were friends.

Friends? Turns out a friend in his world is drive 30 minutes from his home to pick me up every 8 months or so. In my world, I call that a taxi service.

Getting a taxi out of this relationship? Could've done worse.

And another one bites the dust.

Act 2: The Meet-Cute

According to urbandictionary.com a meet- cute is defined as, "Scenario in which two individuals are brought together in some unlikely, zany, destined-to-fall-in-love-and-be-together-forever sort of way (the more unusual, the better)." Wikipedia.com defines it as, "A meet-cute is a term sometimes used to describe a situation in film, television, etc. in which a future romantic couple meets for the first time in a way that is considered adorable, entertaining, or amusing." 

Neither of these descriptions accurately portray my first meeting with Antoine. 

The date was January 13th, 2013. A day that is burnt in Seattleites minds. It's the day the mighty Seahawks were brought down by the Falcons. It wasn't pretty in the streets of Seattle. Not pretty at all. 

My day, as any full fledge fan, started out before dawn...much before dawn, with a thing my friends and I loyally call Shakes and Pancakes. We also had mimosas, but that didn't go with the rhyme, so we left it out for creative purposes. It was playoff day and the game was early. East coast early. So, roll call for the game was earlier. 6:45 am to be exact. Don't judge. We had to pre-funk before the bar opened at 8. It was a special day.  You would have done the same. 

Let me paint you a picture of the beginning of our day. I believe I was the only one to partake in a protein shake, a few pancakes were consumed, and two bottles of the finest champagne bottles were popped...and devoured. All by 7:30. We also were learning a dance that R. Sherm had so magnificently pulled off during a news segment. I couldn't do it, but the mimosas told me differently. #thankyousweetbubbly.

It was going to be a good day; as long as the Hawks pulled it out. 

They didn't. It was devastating. 

There we were. Silent and upset. By silent I mean one of my friends slammed her glass against the ground. It was a wee bit of rage. But it only lasted a brief moment. After I scurried her away from glittering glass and beefy bouncers I realized life must go on. 

And continue it did. I then turned my attention to my friends Mother, who's birthday it was that very day. My goal was for her to never forget her big day. Lets just say her birthday turned into an epic time with her getting two numbers. One from the Bartendar and one from a rando Homie from the south. Both smitten for this lady. 

Once I knew she was sufficiently having a grand ol' time, my attention began drifting elsewhere. Unfortunately for a lot of people (mostly me) it drifted (and landed for a long time) on my iPhone. 

That's when the "destined" and "zany" meet-cute started. 

With one phone call Antoine was on his way to my "rescue". I remember thinking...I must sound really upset...er ummmm something. #emphasisonthesomething

Going back to our table, I told my friend that our Knight in Shining Soberness was on his way to swoop us up.  She wasn't as thrilled as I was. 

When I got the call that he had arrived we ran outside, dodging meandering wanderers and miserable weather. 

So, there it was. Our meet-cute. It consisted of my friend and I jumping into his car at an intersection. #moderndaySleeplessinSeattle.  

Not awkward at all right? Minus the fact that I had never met him, didn't really know him... And oh yeah, my friend had to squeeze in the back between two car seats. 

Doesn't everyone start a healthy, lasting relationship this way?

Meet-cute... Done and Done. 

Part 1: The Meeting (or lack thereof)

I would like to go on record to say that I blame the NFL for most of these blog mishaps.  Why, you might ask?  What is wrong with the NFL besides the obvious (the Steelers and Raiders).  I would like to say that the NFL is at fault because the games are early to quite early.  1:00 is ridiculously premature to start celebrations, especially when roll call is at 10 at the local drinking establishment.  Or is it?  That means around 5:00 I am back at my abode, by my lonesome, without anything to do.  Nothing to do but get on POF.  That's right.  POF is generally my amusement after a day o' celebration aka Seahawk Nation.  12th Man! #smartchoice #wisewoman

The start of our miniseries is no exception.  There I was innocently minding my own business (read: not so innocently) when I stumbled across this gentleman...slash I saw his picture, thought he was cute, and started conversing with him.  Now, I have many strong suits, but reading profiles completely during Sunday Fundays is not one of them.  I may or may not have skipped a few "red flags" that were clearly on his profile.  Whoops.  More on that later.

I would say I started chatting it up with this character, which we shall call Antoine (names have been changed to protect the "innocent") around early December.  Back and forth the conversations flew.  Even a few phone calls were thrown in there for good measure.  Side bar:  I hate the phone.  Obviously, I would come up with an excuse of how to get out of a nice convo with him ASAP.  Which was pretty hard, because he was a talkative son of a gun.  (This fact will be amusing to you, dear Reader, after a couple episodes of this here miniseries). 

Point of this blog post:  I started conversing with this human early December and didn't actually meet him until damn near February.  OK, so it was playoffs.  So, January.  But when you are talking to Antoine for that long it seems like it was February.  Just sayin'.

The fateful meeting happened on a precious Sunday Funday.  But this time the Funday was cranked up a few octaves because the Seahawks were making a run for the Super of bowls.  The run didn't last long, but it was run regardless. And Seattle was bursting with pride.  AKA the bars were at capacity.

So, the meeting wasn't what we would call, ideal.  It actually wasn't even close to ideal.  But, my fateful Friend, the meeting happened anyway.  As my friend's foot says, "Que Sera Sera".

 You are going to have to wait for Act 2.  The working title is, "The Meeting".  Clever huh?

Men are Creeps

So there I was...fresh off of eating my first BBQ of the season, waiting for my friend to get to my place, when I thought, "Self, why don't you do a little blogging about your latest "love" story. It's time you told your audience what they want to hear." By "audience" I mean one of my friends who keeps pestering me, and by "wants to hear" I mean she was bored.  Whatever the logistics are, I was excited to start what I have already decided would be a three part mini-series on my latest endeavors. Yes, you heard me correctly.  There is a mini-series coming at ya red hot.  And why not?  They seem to be all the rage nowadays.  The Bible even has one for goodness sake.  #Godnesssake?  However, my series won't be filled with quite so much battle.  #justasmallpercentage

Back to why men are creeps.  I had just typed the title of the Act 1 when I got a text.  Thinking it was my friend who was arriving any minute, I casually looked up from my keyboard.  Instead of my friend's name I was staring straight at the name of the main character from the mini-series.  Mind you, as my loyal readers you might not know how cray cray this actually is because, let's be honest, you haven't read Act Tres yet...but I will save you some suspense and tell you I haven't talked to Mr. Main Character in two months.  And then Bazinga! Bazanga! Boom and pow! He all of a sudden decides to show his dapper face?  Hence my title of Men are Creeps.  How in God's creation did he know that I was writing about him?  

Is there a hidden camera at my place?

Am I getting punked?  

I'm pretty sure the answer is yes to both.  

I couldn't even go on to writing about this episode in my life because I was too busy talking to my friend about the sixth sense men have.  They always pop back into your life right before you shut the door on them completely.  Touche men.  Touche.  

Alas, my story will have to wait for another day.  I am sorry loyal readers (Reader).  

PS No joke after I dropped my friend off tonight, about three hours after I got a text from Mr. Two Month Chump, I got another text from the MOST recent guy I have started talking to.  I also thought he was dead in the water since he hadn't called/text me back.  Of course, I was talking to my friend tonight about how this "courtship" ended before it even began (don't worry, there is a blog in the works about this guy too) when all of a sudden BOOM BAM POW.  The man strolls back into my life like nothing ever happened.  Go figure.  Men....I just can't figure them out.  #orcanI

Stay tuned for the best mini-series since Katie Holmes played Jackie O. on the History Channels version of The Kennedys. #whocastthat? #anyonewouldhavebeenbetter

Until then...