Dating Line-up

Ladies and Gentlemen allow me to present the current cast of characters:

The Artist. 10 years younger then I. He's from England. He's charming in an irreverant British way. He say's things like, "Jesus I was bloody strip searched at the airport yesterday".

The camera operator. He's the guy on the right. He also has a pictures shirtless. I have a rule about that. I should stop being such a prude. He has that sexy Latin thing going for him. Still, he bores me.

The teacher/coach. He is funny! He says things like, "I'm cocky but insecure".

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Which man I should date? The teacher/coach is pulling ahead. As IF I'm gonna listen. None of the above is frequently my choice.

I'm Being Extorted

I'm being extorted by the DMV!

DMV
Registration Operations Division
P.O. Box 825341
Sacramento, CA 94262-5341

April 29, 2009

RE: Dishonored Check – (DMV did not submit check for payment.)

Dear Sir/Madam,

Enclosed please find a check for the balance of $114.00 as demanded in your notice dated April 23, 2009 . I have enclosed proof that you received $108.00 on April 4, 2009.

I am submitting this payment under protest solely in order to prevent you from imposing further sanctions. It is no way an admission of the validity of the demand. I expect full reparation will be made when you understand the extent of your continuing errors.

The original check for $108.00 was never presented to the bank for payment in January 2009. You may contact Wells Fargo at 1-800-869-3557 to verify your error.

Because you failed to submit the check, I am not liable for any late fees or penalties. I expect to be fully refunded $114.00.

Sincerely,

Charmaine Peterson

Enclosure

PS: You fuckers.

The Meltdown

Why I Melted Down with The King: A Complete Analysis

I’m an idiot. (And yes, those are my real boobs.) ...with a little push up bra assistance. Ok, ALOT of assistance.

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Did you think I was going to produce a two (2)-page report? Did someone just say "produce"? King of Produce, get it?

Okay. I’ll give you the theoretical version. It’s less interesting then the detailed version.

Basically it boils down to insecurity and fear. Zzzz (Isn’t this blog supposed to be funny?) I wanted this guy. He wasn’t my “usual” guy, the one that flatters me so that I know where I stand. (Apparently I need it or I'll go psycho on you.)

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In fact, he never said an encouraging word, He climbed trees, he was just out of reach. He was strong, funny and in charge. He impressed me. I was born to kiss him. We laughed. But I was standing on quicksand. I kept jockeying for power, some control and succeeded at neither.

Why do you think men chase me…it’s not me…it’s that they can’t have me. (Damn,I thought it was me.)

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But that's the OLD charmaine talking.

Despite the fact things were going well I got scared. I was out of control. Cue the self sabatoge music. (Do I hear violins?)

So I started a drunken fight just to get it over with. I was an obnoxious irrational bitch. I don’t even remember what I said. (Don't combine wine AND Tylenol PM people. Don't DO it!)
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You meet someone and bit-by-bit you reveal a fear, or a pain. And bit-by-bit a man shows he's not going to hurt you, repeat whatever offence.

Then, just in case it's not gonna happen. You punch his lights out.

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Thanks King. And King? I'm sorry. Where is the reset button?

It’s about living and learning my lovelies. As my mother says, “Ach sure Jaysus Charmaine yar such a feckin’ slow learner.”

Beach Baby

My date and I walked to the beach. It's a fun stroll. Everyone says "Good Morning"

At the beach we ran the stairs. Jogging down the jetty my date said, "Hey Char, wait up!"

Now I'm walking along the shore cracking seaweed polyps under my sneakers. (Always a mood elevator.)

Now we're flying Frisbee. My date does things like jumping up, doing the splits in the air and catching the Frisbee between his legs.

I'm running up the hill of doom (an impossible gradient, trust me). My date said, "the only reason I'm behind you is because I'm looking at your butt.

We went to a gigantic rock formation. The tide swirls and crashes all around it. You have seconds to take the step required to reach it before a wall of water sweeps in from either direction. We barely made it. My date said, "God I have so much fun when I'm with you."

I cancelled dinner with the Argentinian.

We went to dinner. Within 10 minutes of arriving home I became ill. My face was as green as my frisbee. My date pretended to ignore the 18 times I went to the bathroom.

He left me the receipt from dinner so I could advise the restaurant about the Salmon. (More like Salmonella.)

Oh Shit

Do you ever wake and and say, "Ah shit" out loud?

Not "Oh" shit.

"Ah" shit.

There's a difference. The "Ah" implies embarassment as opposed to surprise. The nuances of profanity. (Sounds like a book title?)

Yea so. I had a fight with The King on the phone. It was entirely my fault. I went psycho. (It's important to own your inner psycho.) Seriously, I did, go psycho. (Hangs head in shame.)

It was one of those, um...I don't know what? Maybe it was one of those "he's not that into you" situations. Not having developed skills to deal with such a scenario because it's never happened to me...I went psycho. (No I don't think I'm "all that" I just generally date men that adore me. You know...little ugly gnomes and such. They are very loyal and devoted creates really.)

I need to revert back to the guy that does not conceal his adoration. It helps me relax....so I don't have to worry. I'm very embarassed. You should have heard what I said to the man.

Here's the way I'm gonna look at it: "Psycho" It was a new hat, I tried it on. I didn't like it.

Miss? Can I try on the red one in the corner?

(Sales girl turns around to get the red hat. Charmaine runs to the edge of store, grabs the psycho hat and puts it on whispering...just one one more time. Arg.)

Today it's beach games (maybe a boat ride) and lunch followed by The Dance of Love (not really) with the Argentinian. I've got a double header.

Man Summary

The one (1) day I fail to wear make-up to the Laundry Matt the entire Newport Beach Fire Department arrives? Ahhh.

A 35 year old fire man asked me out anyway. He had a patch over one eye. He was likely blind in the other.

Now I know what I want: (Thank you Paul for making me actually think about it.) A real man who doesn't let me push him around, holds me accountable but admires me. He's brave. He is kind and desires a woman who isn't a weakling.

1. The Matador asked to go dancing tonight. I said "yes" then rescheduled.

2. Thursday morning Evil apppeared ON HIS KNEES, literally on his knees, outside on my front doorstep with a Cappuccino in one hand and a Frisbee in the other.

3. Chris, a man who really cares, asked me if I am still moving to Denver or if I merely sowing final oats before my departure?

5. Pool Boy will soon be returning from Italy. We committed to having dinner "the second date". We'll see what happens.

Conclusion: I've never dated so much. I've never felt so desired and confused. WTF? Am I secreting some kind of love hormone? Odd because, I just learned, I no longer have hormones.

I guess they didn't test for Testosterone.

The Cure

I'm cured. I can feel my leg.

The Matador took me to a sports Chiropractor. (Is looking for love a sport?) The man cured me with crazy contraptions one of which was a gigantic black vibrating thing. I said, "Don't you DARE come near me with that thing." He laughed.

Guess who was to blame for my paralyzed right leg?

You guessed it. It was the King.

The Chiropractor advised the "problem" was my left hip. Huh? Did you run into something, like a desk perhaps, about a week ago?"

"Uh...No." I replied. (I did however run into The King.)

In talking to "The King" he reminded me that he'd carried me to my bedroom, ya know, before I slapped him. You can't do that without smashing my head, (in this case hip) against the door jam. I told him that I since I got old I can't remember a thing. He said said since he met me me he can't remember where he is or whether or not he has kids. (He does.)

Then the Matador took me to lunch. When he picked me up he stopped his car in the middle of the street. He rushed around to open the door. He is very good looking and full of Argentinian bravado. I saw my neighbours. They were are all watching. They stop raking, stop watering the yard, stop everything...to look at us. I thought about blowing kissess...

I was a chatterbox. Either The Matador could care less or he doesn't understand English.

He just stared at my boobs.

Big Day

The Matador and I are going to the doctor today. (Not a "real" doctor.)

He's picking me up.

He made the appointment. When we were dancing my leg was numb and I stumbled. No...I was NOT drunk. Okay, maybe a little....

It's still numb.

It wouldn't surprise me if he scooped me up and carried me.

It wouldn't surprise me if he threw down his jacket over a puddle.

...he's the Matador.

Yea...I still have a "thing" for the "King". But the Matador actually DID something. I don't care what you say. All I care about is what you do.

But something is off. I can't put my finger on it. I will. I'll get there. I always do.

Soft Boiled Eggs

Does anyone eat soft boiled eggs?

Am I the only one? I think it's considered un-American. I just had two, in dainty china egg cups with toasted wheat bread slathered with butter and honey cut into strips. Then you dunk them. Eggs and soldiers, is what it's called.
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I go to the doctor with the Matador today. I need to shower and primp.

I'm so tired of primping.

I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. I'm on my last legs. Literally. I mean, I can't feel my right leg. That's why he's taking me to the doctor. But he did it. He made the appointment...all by himself.

He's trying to be my hero. It's quite sweet really. This will be our second date.

What's Great About Me

The great thing about me is that I get to have all of these feelings. I allow myself. (A recent development.)

I get to fall head over heels in love with a man. Just because I have "feelings" doesn't mean I act on them.

I use my head. I believe my brain, not my heart. My heart is a flat out moron. It wants things it should not and sees things that are not there. (Could someone please get my heart some Lithium...Thorzine perhaps?)

Hell I don't know. What do I look like? A brain surgeon?

That's all I have for you.

Tomorrow I'm gonna put on some sparkly lipstick and be fine.

Matador's Kill

Matadors kill bulls. Gigantic, cluessless animals.

I'm not cynical.

I'm pretty optimistic. Even in the face of destruction. (It's the liquor.)

But my "con man" light just came on. (It's next to the brake light.) I've never been vulnerable. "The King" left me feeling vulnerable. Heart cracked open.

Something isn't right. The Argentinian (Matador) is trying too hard. He made an appointment with his sports doctor to look at my leg. (It went numb. I stumble when I walk.) Or is he just being "the man"?

He calls me "baby".

He talks funny.

He's too handsome.

His Mercedes is too old. I know, that's a terrible thing to say. One of the buttons on his shirt was cracked. He thinks because I live in Corona Del Mar that I'm rich.

I'll tell him I'm a pauper.

Then we'll find out.

Oh My GOD

What a difference a day makes. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lbcltLf2VHo

10 seconds ago I could barely eat for lack of "The King". I was practically clinically depressed. I was in love with him. Had to have him. I couldn't stop thinking of him. I wanted to have his children. (Little Estrogen problem in that area...)

I was waiting in a restaurant for the Argentinian. I decided to call The King. I wanted to apologize...or something. He didn't pick up.

I told the 24 year old blond bartender I was waiting for a first date. We became cohorts. She wanted to see what he looked like. (Watching old folks date is fun. )

Then he walked in..a 58 year old Tom Cruise. Holy Shit.

It was a great date. I made out with him. (I told my sister. She called me a whore.) After dinner we danced. There was no dance floor. My lips were on his neck. His arms were around my waist. He pulled me closer. He thanked me over and over again for calling him back.

He wants to see me tomorrow. And the day after. I have a little problem with my knee. He's making an appointment with his Orthopedic on Monday to take care of me. Someone wants to help me. ME? Huh?

He escorted me to the Ladies Room, waited for me to emerge.

He held my hand. He would not let go.

So why am I not answering the phone you ask? I dunno. (And they say men retreat.) I've been a man for 48 years...This "being a woman" business is gonna require a few adjustments.

U-Turn

King is that you? Are you reading my blog AGAIN?

Turn back. I'm warning you... It's the rules and, I know you're "the man" and all but 'round these parts I make the rules.

Seriously. Click "close" now. We need to talk about you behind your back.

Go ahead now...Go.

Jeesh. Some people just don't listen.

So, because "change is in the air". I'm doing all sorts of crazy stuff. I decided I wanted the King back and sent him some sappy youtube songs. He responded with some kind of love song.

This post has taken a U-turn. (U-turns are my specialty.) I thought the King was dumping me but It turns out I'm psychotic. I dumped him. I need to lighten up on the drunken stupors.

The King is innocent.

Yup. I found the email. I told him I was waltzing into the sunset. His reply: "I didn't know you could watlz. Can I come? I love sunsets." He said to call him when I'm was free. Holy Shit.

But there IS a back up plan. Afterwhich I may retire.

King if you're still here... You can't just start stealin' my moves. You climb trees, I pull disappearing acts. Like I said, I think I called this wrong. I'm out of my mind. And now we still have an Argentinian to deal with. Oh well.

The Argentinian texted me the moment his plane landed from New York. Then he called. Within 30 minutes he managed to say:

1. I love talking to you, you have a fantastic personality. We were talking about socialized medicine.
2. You are so beautiful. We were talking about his sister who teaches Tango is Switzerland.
3. You have a fantastic body, baby. We were talking about 1-800-Get Slim billboards. I'd never seen one.

European men have skills. Yea yea I KNOW the guy is from South America. It sounds better that way.

And now Ladies and Gentlemen, let's journey into Charmaine's brain. Join me, won't you? A copywritten feature of this blog.

"I can't believe The King disappeared? (Like I said, I can't apologize enough. I called it wrong. )I liked the bastard.I mean...I still do. I did'nt even get produce. Not even an apple. I think I'm growing a beard. I can't feel my right foot. Is it too late to eat lunch? Do these pants make my butt look fat? As if I HAD a butt. "

The King and I

The "King of Produce" was upgraded to "The King" when he sent me this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ToeY7MkCm0c

Then he disappeared.

I felt bad for 24 hours.

I have a rule. My baby sister taught it to me. The rule is you can feel as angry,bad, whatever the emotion is...for 24 hours. You can wallow. Then you have to get up.

You've been with me on this wild ride. My dates have been comic tragedies.

I don't want to be a comic tragedy anymore.

Change is in the air.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vzf6xE4zdpo

Don't Cry For Me

Don’t Cry For Me Argentina. The truth is I neeeeeever left you… Okay. Moving on…

Because I am Middle Aged and getting battier by the minute, I locked my keys in the car. I was at the happiest place on earth, Albertson’s.

I live two (2) blocks away. The problem is I was wearing my notorious 4-inch heels.

I started up the hill. With each step I muttered an explicative. My shoes were KILLING me.

A gigantic Mercedes pulled out of traffic. A man emerged with the bravado of a Matador.

“Dear God, he is NOT waiting for me,” I thought.

He approached and, I believe, bowed. He said, “Miss, your bags look heavy, may I offer assistance?”

One of the reasons I am alive is because I don’t accept rides from strangers. But I was going to die if I took another step. Death by four-inch heels…

I allowed the stranger to give me a ride home. I thought he was going to drive to a remote location and kill me when he missed the first turn.

He took me home instead, waited for me to retrieve my spare key then returned me to my car. I thanked him. He asked for my number.

The funny thing is I’d been out with “The King” the night before. I
left my cell phone in his sport coat.

“The King” heard the call from the Argentinean the next day.His sport coat was "ringing" in his closet.

“The King” thought it was me trying to locate my phone. So he called the man back.

Woops.

Jesus Christ

About "The King of Produce"? You don't know the half of it.

(No that is NOT him above. That's Jesus. Duh.)
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There was another date with "The King". Basically I threw myself at him. Then I changed my mind.

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The "Whore of Babylon" should call me for lessons.

Here's the thing. He had an attractive quality. The same quality I have unwittingly wielded over men. (And I thought I was simply charming and irresistible.)

The quality is: Not caring while interested.

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It's a killer combo.

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To his credit, he did nothing wrong. He was just a man. I'm usually the man. This time I was NOT in charge. Groan.

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It was a moth-to-flame situation. Luckily I made a U-turn before I got burnt.

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Moving forward I will not use this power again. Being on the "other side" of it sucked. It renders you powerless.

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There is something to be learned in every mistake. I'm glad I made this one. I had the time of my life. I made a fool of myself and managed to learn something.

That doesn't happen every day.

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We went to Hollywood. After dinner we strolled past Grauman's Chinese Theatre. (There are characters such as Spider Man, Buzz Light Year lurking to amuse tourists.)I liked this guy, ya know, Jesus Christ. I know what you're thinking. I might have more luck if I date Jesus? Well, he DID sort of like Mary Magdalene which, lately, bears a slight resemblance to ...uh...me.

The End of Dating

I recently penning a post entitled "The End of Dating". I was gonna throw in the towel.

A friend and successful author, after reading about my recent escapades, commented, "Charmaine, you must have nerves of steel."

She's right. I do.

If I can tussle with armed guards in Israel holding bayonets to my throat, I can handle another date.

On a subsequent date with "The King of Produce" I arrived at the restaurant where he was waiting atop a nearby tree to serenade me with a rendition of "Stand By Me".

After cajoling him out of the tree the doorman refused to allow us entry. He did not approve of people who disturb the peace. (My date has a baritone voice which...um...carries.)

Somehow "The King " and I convinced him to let us in.

There were young kids everywhere. I suggested to "The King" that we find an establishment where we might enjoy the company of adults.

In a perverse act of rebellion against this suggestion he lifted me under my bum, into the air, and demanded that I kiss him.

Several young men of the approximate age of twenty five (25) rushed in to make his acquaintance, shake his hand and congratulate him on his "spectacular moves".

His performance had nothing to do with me. In fact, I've never met a man less interested in me. He needs to be the star and he was. I was merely a vehicle.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Charmaine is nobodies vehicle.

Men in Trees

I had another date with “The King of Produce”.

We met for drinks and sushi. There were several martinis.

As we went to leave he started climbing trees in the parking lot. Two (2) trees to be exact. Men have advised I make them feel young again but this was ridiculous.

My cousin says there is Testosterone in my saliva.

After kissing me I think men simply try to get away.

A strange man emerged from the darkness like an errant fan. He gazed adoringly at my date perched 12 feet above him in the tree. (Why isn't there a film crew following me?) The man returned to his car to produce a small dog that he wanted to introduce to my date. You know, the man IN THE TREE!

What the HELL? As my cousin says, “you can’t make this shit up”.

The following day my date sent me the picture of the nuns which made me laugh out loud.

A couple of days later he advised he was conducting a command performance in a Magnolia tree outside a local restaurant and would I like to join him? Sigh. I said, "no" I've already seen this act.