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?