I had two (2) dates this weekend with the same man.
You know who he is.
Friday night we painted the town red. Martini's at The Montage, dinner at Dizz's As Is. Dancing at Mozambique followed by after dinner drinks at The Quiet Woman. Then back to my house for kissing which this man is abnormally good at.
The following day he sent me this song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YmAMti3NeLYHe called Saturday: "I'm giving you the Fourth of July in June" he said.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked.
"It's a surprise" he replied.
Goodie. (I love surprises.) Disneyland has fireworks. We had drinks on the balcony of a nearby restaurant. The balcony had a perfect view of the show. At first they wouldn't let us in. Nobody stops this man. Nobody. My date was the kind of man who slips a twenty ($20.00) to "whomever" and gets what he wants.
We walked to the Grand Californian for dinner at Napa Rose. I had the Seabass atop a sweet pea puree with tiny slices of newcrop potatoes and other delectable morsels. He had the filet poised on a red wine reduction that was delicious.
Seems like enough for one night, right? Wrong.
I said, "We always go to such nice places. Let's go to a dive bar".
"I know just the place" he replied. "I've driven past it for years."
aWe arrived at the "Doll Hut" in Anaheim around 11:00 PM. "Oh no, I'm NOT going in there. I'm not in the mood to get shot" I demurely responded.
Kids lingered outside covered in tattoos, gigantic piercings sporting Mowhawks.
"Come on" he said. "It'll be fun." "No" I replied.
"I'll leave you in the car. Lock the door. I'll go in and make sure it's safe. If it is, I'll come back and get you." "Okay" I said.
He returned walking down the road taking off his sport coat. He pretended to be a matador with his coat suggesting he was in charge of this bull. I laughed out loud. "The people inside couldn't be nicer" he said.
There was a cover charge. "This is ridiculous" I said, "let's just go". "Come on" he said. "We'll stay for five (5) minutes". They asked for our ID's. (My date is 57 years old and I'm not far behind.)
We sat at the bar sticking out like two daffodils in the dirt. The PUNK band began to play. They were called, "Gates of Hell, or something from a Crypt.They shrieked lyrics like Satan or Marilyn Manson. Ever second word was the "F" word. (It reminded me of hanging out with my mother.)
"Charmaine, they're selling jewelry" he said. "It's wonderful".
A Gothic girl was selling it on a pool table. I picked out the skeletal remains of a hand. It also functioned as a barrette. "This looks useful" I said. "I'll take it".
You'd think that would be enough for one night, right? Wrong.
We went to 3Thirty3. It's a hang-out for Cougars. True to it's reputation it was brimming with young men. We showed the boys what a public-display-of-affection looks like. Sure enough other couples started kissing.
You'd think that would be enough for one night, right? Right. (falls into bed entering a well-deserved Coma.) Wow, what a weekend. The man is definitely NOT dull. Going out with him is like being on a Merry-Go-Round. Life flashes past in a blur. He's not like anybody.
That was the name of the band. They had bright red Mohawks, a plethora of tattoos but seemed like lovely lads. If by "lovely" you mean if you passed them in a dark ally you'd run in the opposite direction.
1. The obvious fear behind that smile.
3. The sign behind my date reads: "No knives, no gangs". That's just plain discrimination.
The legitimate professional surfer/tri-athlete is back. I was too shy to meet originally. He had too many pics of his flat out amazing physique (remember?). He has since, taken them down. He is funny and witty on the phone. I never called him back. This time I might. He's charming.
The Naval officer. He's about as entertaining as a wet dish rag. But his honor, integrity and bravery is compelling.
This guy pretends to be some kind of producer. Obviously not succesful by the state of his kitchen. But I don't care. He's funny. He thinks I' m funny. I think he's cute. 
Sorry, too young.
