Hello South Beach...

...diet.

Dr. Drew:  "When did you first notice you had a problem?"
Charmaine:  "I don't have a "problem".  I can stop "using" (butter) whenever I want."

I had a big Christmas Party. I invited Jerry's kids, grandkids, the baby daddy's, his mother and...

..his X-wife.

There should be a girl scout badge...

I went Martha Steward on their asses. I made adorable invitations, cooked, juried the "ugly Christmas sweater contest".  The white elephant was hilarious due to my mens Santa Knickers with matching hat that ended up on my 13 year old nephew.

I made videos for each guest...from Santa.

Jerry dressed up as St. Nick, offering each guest a personalized ornament.

X-Wife:  You've done a great job with the Condo.  The invitations, the food, such fun...it was amazing.  Is there anything you CAN'T do?

Charmaine:  Smiles sheepishly.

Why Marry Late in Life?

To have conversations with my sister (married 20 years).

Charmaine:  "Jerry is driving me crazy.  All he wants to do is shop.  He buys everything. It's exhausting.  Last week BCBG didn't have boots in my size.  He went BEHIND MY BACK...shipped them from Utah. He is dishonest!

Baby Sister:  "Ahhhhhhhh!"

Charmaine:  "Eating out every night is embarrassing. The Valet guys know us by name. I'm getting FAT. Jerry doesn't understand women.

Baby Sister:  "Ahhhhhhhh!"

Charmaine:  "How do you handle the endless, 'You're so beautiful' remarks? Doesn't it get old?

Baby Sister:  "I hope you die."

The Mother-in-Law

The FUN thing about getting married late in life is acquainting yourself with the family that came before you:  Kids, x-wives and....

The Mother.

I am marrying into an Italian family.

I spent the afternoon with Shirley making home-made raviolis (including the pasta) for Christmas.  It is a 40 year old tradition.  She's adorable...but I keep one eye open.

I've seen episodes of Everyone Loves Raymond.

Bowl of flour, eggs, water, ricotta, cheese, parsley and bits of ham.

She made pasta, I made the filling.

ITALIAN Mother:  "Charmaine.  Place the pasta sheet over the rack, fill with cheese, cover with pasta sheet.  Press out the air, dust with flour, roll with rolling pin and release the ravioli".

Charmaine:  "It's pretty easy, eh?"

ITALIAN Mother:  Silence

ITALIAN Mother:  "That's too much filling"

Charmaine:  "No problem.Voila."

ITALIAN Mother:  "That's not enough filling."

Charmaine:  "Oh."

ITALIAN Mother:  "You didn't dust with flower."

Charmaine:  "Flour, dust thyself upon my raviolis." Dramatic flourish of flour. I giggle.

Husband-to-be:  "You have flour on your stomach."

Charmaine:  "If it was on YOUR stomach we wouldn't have any left."

ITALIAN Mother:  "You'd better be nice to my son.  He's my baby, you know."

Charmaine:  That's one BIG baby.  "I know he's a mama's boy."

ITALIAN Mother:  Gazes at me.

Charmaine:  "In a GOOD Way."

On the 107th ravioli I thought; Why don't we buy these fuckers at Whole Foods?

But traditions are fun.

On the way out... I gave her a hug.

ITALIAN Mother:  "Next time, work faster.  The pasta dries out."

(She lingered, sweetly, at the door, waving, until we were out of sight.)

Later, I recalled the strong smell of the Ricotta.  It smelled "off". I didn't want to say anything.

(It's Christmas Day and the family is vomiting...racing for the bathroom....)

ITALIAN Mother:  "Charmaine made the ravioli this year."

Engaged VS Dating

I don't have to tell YOU the difference, eh?

Okay, I'll tell you.

The difference is HUGE!

A man that wants to MARRY you versus the man that wants to DATE you ad infinitum...it's like apples and oranges...they both serve a purpose.

The marriage minded man wants NOTHING MORE then to please you.  Like the beginning stage in dating a guy (he want's to please you too)...then it wanes to the final stage where you want to KILL him for being such a schmuck.

A schmuck is any man that DOES'NT want to marry you.  It's my blog, I get to redefine words.

I'd been "asked" before.  My mistake was to say, "no" then STAY in the relationship...forever.  Or WORSE, stay in a relationship with some guy that didn't EVER want to get married.

You give yourself to some guy...for free.  He get's all the benefits of a "wife" with none of the obligations.

Screw that!

When you say, "yes"...it keeps the ball rolling.

When you say, "yes" your man stays plugged in.

Let's view sample conversations depicting Dating Man and Marrying Man:

      Dating Man:  "You look nice."
      Marrying Man: "Have I told you how gorgeous you are?  You are so beautiful. I love you so much. Thank you for making my life so fun.  You are just so wonderful and full of life.  I feel like the luckiest man on earth.  Do you want a Vespa?

That about covers it.

Middle Aged Marrying

Had you SUGGESTED I would marry (for the first time) at the age of 50...I would have laughed in your face.

Coffee (more like a crisp Chardonnay) would have sprayed from my nostrils.

Uh, thar' she blows: Kendal Jackson Reserve Chardonnay...

My desire to remain single was complicated.  I had loved and been loved.  I thought I wanted to marry a couple of times (they didn't want to).

A few men wanted to marry ME, (I didn't want to)...

I enjoyed a modest life by the beach and answered to no one. After 20 years I began to wonder if it was ENOUGH.

Something changed.

Job, relocation and a break up.  A wall of Rocky Mountains loomed on my horizon, blocking my view of the ocean.  Had the ocean lulled me into a coma?

I realized how alone I was, had always been.

My independence, to which I'd been wedded, stopped feeling rebellious, avant guard or unique...it felt like HIDING. A person can hide from intimacy for a lifetime. I was proof!

So I said "yes" to a nice man.

Independence is a state of mind, not a living arrangement.

I haven't set a date. My fiancé bribes me with things like Corvettes.  He assures the minute I utter, "I do" he'll buy me a Vespa.

Huh? You've never heard of a woman marrying for a Vespa?  I might be cheap, but I'm not free, mista'.

My nephews are crazy about him...possibly, mostly... the Corvette.

Next summer we'll do it...on the beach.  Not the "it" for which a drink was named (you filthy minded scoundrel) get married...jeez.

I enjoy being engaged.  It's like being married and single at the same time.

...the best of both worlds.

I'm Engaged - Part 2

He stopped me as I lifted the strawberry to my mouth.  It had a ring poised upon it.

(When you're my age you can't see anything unless it's at least 6 feet away.)

We've been dating for 4 months. 

He took me on a vacation.  We did everything I wanted to do including Flying Trapeez lessons on the Santa Monica Pier.  We rented a house on the water and strolled on the shore each morning beneath soaring flocks of pelicans. The waves crashed as seagulls chirped over the misty, abandoned beach.

He took me to THE restaurant I've always wanted to visit, Bazaar located in Beverly Hills. 

It was amazing. (And I've been around people.)

I've been "wined and dined" by more then one Casanova.  This man blows them all out of the water. 

I accepted his proposal with grace: 

"What the hell," I said,

followed romantically with, "Does this mean I can't date other people?"

I'm Engaged

He's the fourth man to propose.  

I said, "yes".

I have a diamond on my finger.

It's just a ring.  Am I supposed to be sure?

I don't trust my heart.

My heart is a liar.

Am I Bad?

When I say, "bad" I mean I haven't been telling you everything.

I prefer to wax on about the hellish nightmare of dating later in life.

When things are going well, I don't like to talk about it...

When it's easy... It's boring. (Red flag.)

I'm gonna tell this to my next psychiatrist.  (If I ever talk to one.)

Things have been going well.

As Woody Allen once said, "When things are going great, I know something TERRIBLE is about to happen."

Love,
Charmaine

True Confessions - Getting Nailed!

...here’s what REALLY happened on my date with Hamburger.

Prior to the date I noticed my hands were looking a little “sketchy”. I did something I have never done in my ENTIRE life.

I bought press on nails. French manicure style.

Hey, they didn’t look that bad.

I met "Hamburger" at Abrusci’s. After exchanging pleasantries like, “Was that you that honked in the parking lot and nearly ran me over?” I reached for my water glass. The pinky nail on my right hand was missing.

I scanned the table, it wasn’t there. “No big deal”, I thought.

We chatted. He went through his routine, advising I was attractive and that my hair looked nice.

“No, it doesn’t” I said…running my fingers through my hair.

I reached for my wine and noticed the middle finger nail was missing.

“Shit” I thought.

There was obviously a fingernail SOMEWHERE in my hair.

I focused on his eyes like a heat seeking missile; maniacally following his gaze to see where it might pause…revealing the fingernail’s location.

I would have gone to the ladies room but knowing he would look at my butt as I departed seemed like a worse alternative.

We shared delicious Calamari. I reached for bread with my left hand.

You guessed it, ring finger nail…missing.

“This is ridiculous” I thought. He must have noticed by now.

We talked but I didn’t hear a word he said. All I could think about were…the nails. Where WERE they? I mean, did they disappear? Were they in my hair, attached to my sweater? WHERE?

The rest happened as described. He walked me to my car, after taking 10 steps turned around and said, “Show me what you’ve got” in terms of a kiss.

That didn’t work for me. I drove off, peeling the remaining seven (7) ridiculous affectations off my hands…

Hamburger Stand Man

I agreed to see "Hamburger" last night.

He's owned several restaurants.  Now he owns a hamburger joint.

After our first date, I wasn't interested.  He was cute, but I didn't like his vibe.

He kept trying to touch me.

Later, following an adventure, I brought my two nephews to his joint for a burger.  I had some vague curiousity...

He was shocked and clearly upset with me for having ignored him.

He gave the kids free fries.

That's all it takes to get a second date with me.  He brought me to a great Italian restaurant.

He said, "let's see what you've got" before moving in for the second date kiss.  

I don't think so...

As my 14 year old nephew would say, "he was denied". 

Now he's texting, apologizing for "being frisky" when he should be apologizing for being a moron.

Good Things, Small Package, IV

That doesn't sound right. 

The funny thing about a practically perfect date is that...it's not funny. 

He picked me up in his convertible Corvette. (He wasn't driving it last time.)

He was a small man in a fast car. 

An incredibly NICE man.

He brought me to an amazing restaurant...again.  After dinner we took a bicycle taxi to a hip martini bar.  The music was blasting hip hop music.  Every other word seemed to be "bitch". 

We looked at each other, two old farts in a young persons nightclub...and bolted.

Before the night was over he asked for another date. 

He brought me a present from Thailand.

"What kind of present do you get a woman with whom you've only had one date?" He asked. 

"It's perfect", I said.

Good Things Come in Small Packages III

I'm seeing him again tomorrow night.

My girlfriend is wary of him.  She believes because he ordered lobster on our first date AND ordered two (2) desserts I took home to my nephews...he is suspicious.

"Real men don't order lobster", she said. "He's trying too hard."

I just thought he was trying to impress me. 

But there is a problem.  He just returned from Thailand.

It is his 11th trip.  I don't get it.

I've been to Thailand. It was an all expenses paid trip.  I flew first class.  I slept in a pod, sipped champagne.  I enjoyed a 5 star river front room with a personal butler.  She unpacked my suitcase and drew a bath for me when I returned from riding an elephant.

There were rose petals in the bathwater.

The aroma I selected wafted throughout the room. My particular brand of soothing music played.  The pillow I ordered was on the bed.

But here's the thing: It was a place a person should visit once.

There is a distinct underbelly to Thailand.  The trafficking of children into the sex trade.  The ping pong ball thing.  Parts of Thailand turn into a red light district of horror for these children every night.

It cannot be denied. Just hearing about it, having it confirmed, was enough to disgust me. Scare me.  Sadden me.

So why would a grown man return 11 times to such a country?  It's dirty, people wear masks to protect against the epic pollution.  It's grimly exotic.  The floating water market is on it's last legs.

I was lucky.  I experienced the country like some kind of rock star because I'm an event planner. Photos of me even appeared in the paper. Absurd, to say the least.

There are a million ways to discriminate against people:  Race, color and religion.

How about discrimination based on vacation travel destinations?

I met "HIM".

Our eyes met...a song played in my head:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5zc2O4SnUno

It's not really my style.  It just happened... to happen.

He calls...

I allow my girlfriends to listen to his voice mails.  His voice is deep and mellifluous.  

...no woman on earth could resist.  But I can.

I'm frightened.  Afraid of getting hurt, again. 

He's gorgeous and succesful.

I'm stuck...and fearful.

Drag Racing AND Dinner, Oh My!

If driving 50 mph go karts is considered drag racing…

The track was filled with grown men wearing race jumpsuits, head socks, helmets and racing gloves.

I felt nervous.

The smell of gasoline was in the air and the male racers were out for blood.

I sauntered to my kart in 4 inch black suede boots and tight blue jeans.

The audience pointed and laughed.

A young guy waved the race flag...I blessed myself over my helmet.

After getting passed, I tried harder...Suddenly, my boot dislodged the brake extender. I could no longer reach it.

Taking my foot OFF the accelerator did not occur to me.

I spun out of control.

I pulled into the pit.“How many more laps?” I asked. “One, two?”"About 20." the young man said, grinning.

“Shit." I replied demurely.

"They got nothin' on YOU babe." he said, smiling.

This song began playing in my head:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PTDv_szmL0

“If these guys can do it..” I mused, pressing the accelerator to the floor. Young guys at the track began jumping up and down, giving me thumbs up, and screaming.

“Way to go Charmaine” boomed over the loud speaker.

I was going 15 miles per hour.

I was NOT going to die in a go-kart.

Then my date took me to dinner.

He's cute, yes?...Ahhhh

He asked me to go snowmobiling this weekend.  I couldn't help but notice his "guns".

Very nice. 


I like motorcycles.  He's manly in a totally HOT Keanu Reeves way!  I am SO going to meet him.


Nothing wrong with this picture of him. 


Ahhhhhhhhhh!  Ahhhhhhhh.  (inhales) Ahhhhhh.

Now WHY did he have to go and do THAT?......WHY??

Hey Big Spender...

The minute he walked in the room…I could tell he was a man of distinction

A real big spender…

(Cue needle dragging across a vinyl record.)

I sat down at the ultra hip dimly lit bar. I arrived early. Despite my age I still get uncomfortable seated alone at a bar.

My date called to admit he’d be late. (We were both event planners.) Being late… is the kiss of death.

I confessed to the bartender I was meeting a match.com date. I made a similar announcement to the group next to me. They moved in, as if to protect me.

A tall manly guy towered over me, “If things don’t work out, I’ll protect you…if you don’t mind.”

Minutes later an irritating light caught my eye. Some blond 25 year old at the edge of the bar was taking my picture. Wha the? Paparazzi?

He came up; snapping several photos, then asked my permission, retroactively. He claimed to be with a newspaper in New York. (I didn’t buy it either.)

The tall man re-appeared, “Do you want me to deck him?” he said. I was going to say, “yes” but…

My date arrived.

The kid would NOT stop taking my picture. He put the camera on his lap, pointed and snapped away… flash…flash….My date gave him a dirty look. The boy approached and introduced himself.

My date and he were about to enter into a skirmish…

The tall man appeared again, staring into my eyes… “’I can take care of this if you like”, he said.

I looked at my date, clearly uncomfortable…telling me how beautiful my eyes were…

I can’t remember what he looked like…

The tall man that showed up to protect my pretend honor… I could identify him in a police line-up.

Good Things Come in Small Packages...II.

I'm not finished describing my last date.

I agreed to meet him at my favorite restaurant, Ocean Prime. It’s a hip place.

I couldn’t remember his name. It was either Barry or Jerry.

I called prior to arriving...to advise he might experience difficulty recognizing me. (Due to a hairdressing faux pas… I was now a brunette. )

Earlier in the day my nephew exclaimed, “Ewe, Aunt Charmaine what HAAAPENED to your HAIR? It looks AWWFUL!

“Hi Charmaine, I’m waiting for you at a table down stairs. I’m wearing a white jacket.”

“Oh great,” I thought. “He’s one of the waiters.”

His eyes lit up. He had already made reservations for dinner.

When our table was ready we stood. “Those are some high heels you’re wearing.” He commented.

They were high, four inches with a 1/2 inch platform.

My date (Jerry by the way) came up to my neck.

He was already planning our second date. We laughed…the conversation was easy.

He ordered the lobster, I couldn’t decide between the Filet and the Salmon.

“Why don’t you get both?” he suggested.
He forced me to bring home a couple of desserts for my nephews. The truffle sauce on my filet, cost $17.00. In other words, he spent easily over $350.00 bucks

But it’s not the money…it was how he made me feel…like I was worth it.

I’d forgotten…what it felt like.

Waiting for my car, Jerry paid for my valet. I tried to stop him. He would hear nothing of it.
Because I had a headlight out on my car...he led me home.

REAL men come in all sizes.

Good Things Come in Small Packages

I had the time of my life tonight.

Well, not my actual life.  I had a terrific date with a man who was...um, short.

But here's the thing...for some reason, I didn't care.

I was wearing 4 inch heels with a little platform to boot. (Making me 5 inches taller.)

I towered over the man.

Do you think it bothered him?  Nope.

We met at an exclusive restaurant.

We had lobster and...well, ya know.

He forced me to take home several desserts for my nephews.

And something so small...something I'd forgotten men should do...he paid for my valet.

I forgot men did that.

Post Date - Holy Shit!

(I need to work on my swearing.)

I arrived at Ocean Prime at 6:30 PM. The valet guys swooped in.

I hadn’t even called Gene, to confirm our date.

When I walked in he stood up immediately. I had one thought:

“Holy Shit, it’s Robert Redford”.

He was a 59 year old version of Robert Redford.

He pulled out my chair and was in every manner, a perfect gentleman. He had that relaxed, confident energy a lot of politicians have.

When he opened his mouth to speak his voice was a cross between John Edwards and Jimmy Carter.

He arrived one hour early for our date. 

We had a delicious dinner, the best of everything.

He grew up on a peanut-farm.

Now he’s a big wig at Hewlett Packard...but played it down.

A man slipped into the seat beside me. (We were seated at the bar.)

His voice sounded like Will Smith’s in the film, 6 Degrees of Separation: Preppy, studied, deeply confident and full of laughter. The restaurnt staff was making a big deal.

He was wearing penny loafers with tassels.

My date went to the bathroom and the man turned to me, “Good evening, my name is Charles” he said.

I was waiting for my car to be returned by the valet...and he approached..we laughed.

We're meeting Friday for drinks.

Follow your Instincts, right?

I've probably dated more then most.

It's odd since I'm kinda shy.  It doesn't feel "natural".  I force myself. 

Sometimes the men asking me out are dull, mean, hung up on x's or just plain weird.

I've decided to stop thinking...and trust my instincts. 

This is my next instinct.

But I have a date tomorrow night.  A man 10 years older.  He's concerned I'm too young for him and too cute (in his mind). 

I didn't mention him because...I don't tell you EVERYTHING. He's been pre-qualified by the woman I work for.

That means blind date. 

Expect disaster. 

Tune in for the results, won't you?

Man. Man. Man. Goose.

Ladies and Gentlemen...The "line up" currently under consideration.

(1)  Robert. 
He was unexpectedly thoughtful for a 34 year old which is...WAY too young for me. My girlfriend is dating a man 10 years her junior...having the time of her life.

I agreed to possibly meet him ONLY to, um, complete my research (cough cough) and report my findings back to YOU.  The things I do for science.

(2.) Blake
He's in law enforcement.  I think he's cross-eyed. If he looks me up in "the system"...he'll likely see two of me (it's a cross eyed thing) and learn I'm a dangerous seat belt violator with a penchant for repeat recidivism. (Recidivism is a term only criminals in-the-know...know).

(3) J.R.
This brooding, serious man is compelling. H'e's arrogant. He's a writer. I don't trust his black and white "professional" photo.  I've learned nothing appearing on-line, nothing a man says, or the pictures he posts, matter.

You need to weed out the serial killers...then meet. 

(4) Kerry - a.k.a. "Goose"
You have to be 6'3" to pull off a nickname like that.  He's nice.  An unapologetic "mans man".   He's an IT Director, which always comes in handy. 

Just a few... in the que.

Are Dating Monsters...REAL?

I’m NOT a fashion model.

(I know…it’s hard to believe.)

I’m just your average middle aged broad, age 49. I look pretty good. I can still turn a head or two... if I hold in my stomach.

What I lack in looks, I make up with a highly developed sense of humor.

Which is why I had to laugh when THIS guy asked me out.

Shrieks….(faints).

A normal woman would have hit the delete button.

I had to know WHY he possesed sufficient confidence to ask me out?

Maybe he was an alternative medical physician or…a friend of Ghandi?

Right?

Wrong.

You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

But sometimes…the cover tells the whole story.

I was kind to him.  He was bizarrely sweet.

BUT, because I have no immediate plans to be found decapitated in a shed located in the mountains...

I'm NOT gonna meet him.

Love and Younger Men

Someone suggested I date younger men.  I AM.

One is blond, the other brunette. They're friends.  Neither knows about the other.

I can't tell them because they're VERY jealous.

And they both have guns. 

The problem is... I have to pay for EVERYTHING.

Tonight, I took them BOTH to dinner at Casa Bonita. 

It was a bold move.

As we dined near a waterfall featuring incredibly realistic turquoise water...I engaged in cocktail conversation:  "This is the most delicious American cheese sauce covered enchilada I have ever eaten in my LIFE". And...

"The smell of bleach really perks up a girls appetite...don't ya think?"

Keeping up the star crossed "charade" was hell. 

After giving Brody $5.00 dollars of arcade tokens, Britt became jealous.  I had no choice but to give Britt $5.00 dollars worth...so he wouldn't suspect anything.

When I bought Britt a balloon, I thought Brody was going to shoot him. 

I'm not sure if this makes me a bad person.

The truth is...I saw ANOTHER younger guy earlier.  We went to Starbucks, Denny's, AND Rockly's Music Store.  We played electric pianos, guitars and a ukulele.  

It's not the first time.

One of the musicians in the store has a crush on me.  Luckily, guy number three (3) is not the jealous type.

He's been looking for work.

But there are child labor laws...

Harley Hal

He kissed me.  (Just a peck...or two.)

This only makes you a whore if you happen to be an Irish Catholic. 

He was a good looking man.  He became better looking as the evening progressed.

He hailed from 4 generations of Westpoint graduates.  All generals in the Airforce. He went to the Airforce Acadamy as an act of rebellion.

We met in a Pub overlooking an outdoor ice-skating rink.  The perimeter of the rink was studded with trees covered with twinkle lights left over from the holidays. It was lovely.

As I arrived, I watched him put on chapstick.  Talk about wishfull thinking.

He was a gentleman. That is, when his hand wasn't on my knee or trying to pull me close.

But there was nothing obnoxious about it. He'd been married for 26 years. He was successful and thought I was hilarious.

He rides a huge Harley and plays the trumpet.

I love that he plays the trumpet.

He texted me minutes after I left.

He's dating material.

Pre-Date Review

Let's try a PRE-date review...for kicks.

This way you can witness my glorious optimism.  I always think the date is going to go well.  (Cue sinister organ music.)

His name is Hal. He doesn't have the "look" of my typical man.  He's, um, motorcycley.  (New word.)

And outdoorsey.  (Can I get a spell check?)

It's difficult to spell words one never uses.

BUT...he's hilarious, an IT guy and persistent.  Three qualities I value. 

My last date, restaurant guy, texted me this:  "Scammer".

I assume because I didn't answer his calls. 

Hal, on the other hand, continues to call with a jovial attitude despite my failure to respond.  (I think I got a ticket for that once.)  He's upbeat, has a great voice...I just KNOW I'm going to have fun.

Famous last words.  

Tune in tomorrow, won't you?

Bowling Alley Date

Bowling Alley Date...are you KIDDING me?

Man oh man...I had a blast. 

I'm a fancy girl.  Food snob...you know the drill. 

It's important to depart from tradition.

After 20 minutes the men in the adjacent alley approached me to offer their arcade game tickets...to the tune of over 1,000 tickets.

Thanks fellas.

My nephew and his friend almost killed themselves...fighting over them.  (You turn them in for prizes.)

One of the kids scratched his leg.  Did I mention I brought my sister the lawyer?  She's does a bit of personal injury...

By the time we left, we were given a gazillion free games, men were flirting up a storm, we were given too many tokens to use, free everything...it was ridiculous.

It's the little things...

Post Date Review

December 31, 2010 - (CHIP)

Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to present ….drum roll puleez, the first DATE REVIEW of 2011.

Oh my.

It occurred on (New Year’s Eve).

His eyes did not light up when I entered the room.  He talked about his x-girlfriend and his x-wife after I advised, “I’m not really interested in talking about past relationships”.

He was seated at the bar. I said, “I feel awkward about pulling out my own chair”.  He lept up.

(It’s part of my new “technique” to educate men how to treat ME.)

He had difficulty maintaining eye contact. Another fella did this before.  I didn't like it. When  I refused to see him again he frantically emailed me beseaching:

Why don't you likkkke meeee?

Anyway, my first instinct was to ditch Chip.  But....

I was feeling peckish.

He claimed to be a "foodie".  But failed to order the heirloom beet salad.

I eyed him, suspiciously...he said:

1. I can’t believe you showed up.
2. You look like Giada from the Food Network.
3. Did you used to be a model? (Yes, double chins are very popular on the runway.)
4. You’re terrific and not a bad date, let’s have dinner.
5. I want to cook for you. Bring your nephews to my restaurant.
6. Grabbing my hand trying to kiss me, “I like you already.”
7. You probably have millions of guys. You use them then spit them out. You’re just dating for fun.
8. Running after me…where are you going?  I got you these balloons AND a tiramisu to take home....

I dunno.  I got bored.