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.