Whatcha gonna do? Spank my bun?

Does anyone else think this guy is as creepy as I do?

Come on, kids. He's plastic. With a psycho grin plastered on his face.

As much as I love me some Whoppers and egg croissants, I wouldn't dare take so much as a Coke from that dude.

And if the guy showed up in my bed like he does in the commercials?! Forget it. I would freakin' pee my pants.

But have y'all seen this? The Whopper Rules ad? So much better.

Spank my bun?! Hilarious.

Brace Yourselves

As if my previous two posts didn't make you nausiated enough, this one is sure to make everyone throw up a little in their mouths.

I have never in my life gotten flowers at work. A bouquet of eight iris and six roses. And they smell as beautiful as they look.

The card reads: "I can't give you a hug right now, so this will have to do. Thanks for hanging out with me on Friday. Sixty"

The girls in my office had a fit. I called Sixty immediately to thank him. He's so genuine and sweet.

Okay, okay, okay. Enough. I know. Y'all are probably ralphing right now. I know I would be.

But you can't say I didn't warn you.

Sixty's Surgery: Part 2

They had him pumped full of morphine, so he was saying some hilarious things.

His mother and I were talking, when all of a sudden, Sixty woke up and said, "There aren't any pythons in Spain!"

I had to turn away from him so he wouldn't see that I was laughing. I think I might have peed my pants in the process.

After Sixty was coherent enough to carry on a conversation with us, he said he was up for some ice chips. The nurse had set a cup of ice next to his bed. I reached for it and started spooning them into his mouth.

I couldn't believe that his mother was letting me do this. You know? Mothers and their boys? That relationship is tight, people. And she was letting me encroach upon her territory. I thought that was awfully sweet.

Later on, his lunch came, and he wanted some of the jello. He took the bowl and spoon, scooped up a strawberry square, raised it to his mouth, and just stared at it as it shook on the spoon. Bless his heart. He was so doped up that it was taking every bit of concentration he had to get it into his mouth.

I took the bowl and spoon away from him and proceeded to feed him. He just looked so helpless and kept saying "Thank you, Sandra." He grimaced after every bite, but he never once complained about the pain.

He ate almost everything on the tray, and then he was ready for more pain medicine. Off to sleep he went, and his mother and I did some more talking. She is so sweet. I really enjoyed getting to know her better.

Sixty woke up every now and then to join us in our conversation, but mostly slept the entire afternoon. Dinnertime rolled around, again I fed him, and again he never complained. Afterward, Sixty felt like he wanted to get up and walk around. So we unplugged his machines and sauntered around the hallway with him.

Halfway around the halls, he asked what we had done that afternoon. "We got to know each other better," I said, smiling. "Well that's good. But at least I got to talk with you, too. I mean, it's not like I slept the whole day." She and I howled. He had, in fact, slept the entire afternoon - and he didn't even remember it. Bless it.

Visiting hours had came to an end, and his mother got her things to leave. She was staying the night at Sixty's house and would come in the morning to get him when he was discharged. She would be taking him back to Sixty's hometown with her. He kissed her goodbye, and I got up to get my things, too. I waved goodbye to her, telling her how much I enjoyed our day together. She said she did, too.

She was out the door, and I asked Sixty if he wanted me to leave, too. "No," he said. "I want you to myself for a little bit." I laid down on the bed with him and watched tv while we snuggled. Poor kid. He wasn't thrilled with the idea of not getting to see me for a whole week while he was at home with his mom. "It won't be that bad," I said. I think I was convincing myself more than anyone.

11:30 rolled around, and the nurse brought in his pain medicine for the night. I watched him take it, and then said that I should be going. I kissed him goodnight.

"Do you know how special you are?" he said. I melted. "I really enjoyed you taking care of me, and I don't normally like people taking care of me. Do you know how special you are?"

"Thanks," I said. "You're a special guy, hunnie. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," he said. "See ya."

"Yeah. See ya."

I fought back tears. I have to remind myself that it's only been two months. But after everything I went through that day with him, it felt weird not saying those three words.

I know it in my heart, friends. And right now, for me, that's all that counts.

Sixty's Surgery: Part 1

Sixty had surgery on Friday.

I jumped out of bed about 5 a.m. so I could be at the hospital when he and his mother checked in at 5:45.

Needless to say, I was a little late. Damn. I am not an early riser. Ugh.

So about 6 a.m., I trotted into the hospital registration area and asked if Sixty had registered yet. They told me that he had, and then told me where I needed to go. Coffee for his mom and myself in hand, I found the waiting area.

Sure enough, there they sat. Sixty stood up and engulfed me in a hug. I could tell he was nervous. He had insisted the night before that I didn't have to come. "If you've got too much going on at work, you don't need to come," he said. "This surgery's not the big of a deal, you know." I told him not to be rediculous; I would be there.

They took him back to take blood and vitals while his mother and I sat and chatted. A few minutes later, they told us we could come back to the holding room. There lay the poor guy in a paper gown and gauze cap. I tried my hardest to keep him entertained and his mind off the surgery. So did his mom. I hope it worked.

At 8:30, the surgeon, the anesthesiologist, and a nurse all came to talk to him, and he was ready to be rolled into surgery. They said he probably would get to come home right after the surgery, but if not, they'd keep him overnight for observation. I hoped he got to go home.

Sixty motioned to his mother for a hug. I stepped back and let them have a moment. I fought back tears. I just stood there, looking at the poor guy. He motioned to me for a hug. "Don't act like you don't want one," he said. Again, I fought back tears. "You'll do just fine," I said, kissing his cheek. Off he went.

This is the weird thing about it all. As worried as I was about Sixty, somehow having his mother to talk with while he was in surgery made it better. She is such a super lady. She talked all about Sixty's two brothers, what Sixty was like when he was younger, how she and her husband met. She was just a delight.

About 3 hours later, the nurse came and got us. "He's in a lot more pain than we thought he would be, ladies," she said. "We're going to try and get that under control, but in the meantime, you're welcome to come up and see him in his room. Because the pain is so bad, I think we're going to go ahead and keep him overnight." My heart just broke for him. He had wanted to come home so badly.

We walked up to his room, and he laying there, grimicing. The first thing he did was croak out, "Hi guys" as the nurse was taking his vitals. He looked really good, except you could tell he was in a lot of pain. His mother stepped to the side of the room to make some phone calls to family members. As she was doing so, the nurse slipped out. I just stood by the side of his bed and watched him.

He looked at me and smiled. Then he reached for my hand, I took it, and sat down on the bed.

"I'm so glad you came," he cooed. "I tried to act all macho, like I didn't care if you came or not, but I'm so glad you did." I leaned down and gave him a kiss.

Part 2 tomorrow.

Grateful.

You know those tourist information centers that you see on sides of highways?

I had to volunteer at one yesterday. As part of Tourism Week in my state, I passed out literature and brochures about traveling around the area.

You're probably thinking it was a giant snooze fest. And part of it was. But let me just tell y'all what: It was a lesson for me.

Three-fourths of the people walking into that info center looked like they didn't have enough money to afford lunch. My heart just broke watching a family of four come in asking if we had any information on the zoo.

None of them had taken showers that day or even had on clean clothes. I teared up a bit as I heard them ask the front desk for coupons. I had several at my booth.

I walked over and gave them a handful. You would have thought I was handing them gold. Thanking me up and down.

Still, a piece of me felt it wasn't enough. A piece of me wanted to give them every bit of cash I had in my wallet. And I would have given them my clothes, too, if I thought that would do any good. I just felt so helpless.

Those parents wanted so badly to show their kids a good time. I hoped I could help them do that.

After the family left, I thought about how blessed I am. A great education. A fabulous apartment. Money for necessities and a little left over for amenities. A steady job. Clean clothes and running water. These people probably didn't know half of what it was like to live as I do.

I am so grateful for the gifts I've been given in my life.

Geez, y'all. Simmer.

I'll get to the slumber party in a sec, kids. Lordy Moses. I've been bombarded with e-mails over this one. Sheesh. Settle down.

A quick shout out to my Idol fans out there.

Yes, I'm talking about American Idol on my dating blog. Get over it. It's my blog.

(Note: I'm secretly obsessed with the show. I don't miss a week. I know, I know. But hey. It could be worse. My aunt? Voted 200 times last week for Elliot.)

Could Kat be anymore of a snob? GAAAAW!! She expects those judges to go on and on, raving about how much they loooooove her. And they make some comment about how she was just "okay," and she rolls her eyes?! What the hell was that all about?! Get over yourself! You are not Whitney, Mariah, or Faith. Puhhh-leeeze.

I am pulling for Elliot and Taylor. With Taylor as the winner.

Okay. End rant.

Now for the update about why y'all are really here: my juicy dating life.

So Sixty and I went to the baseball game Friday night before our slumber party. We enjoyed big juicy hot dogs and gigantic cups of $7 beer. And thanks to my thinking ahead-ed-ness -- and no, that's not a word, but work with me here -- we had rockin' seats. Close to the front and right behind home plate. Not to mention that it was a gorgeous night to be outside.

Now, we didn't stay for the whole game. I mean, after the second beer, we were both pretty buzzed. And baseball? Well. It's kinda boring.

Okay, fine. FINE! You drug it out of me. We were groping one another! There! I said it!

And we all know where this is leading.

I'll keep my personal biz-naz under wraps, but I'll just say that the slumber party? Was. Um. Cough. Totally hot.

He surprised me with massage oil. And I even suprised him with breakfast Saturday morning.

And then? More. Um. Cough. Hot action afterwards.

That's all you get.

Happy now?

Peace out.

Slumber Party

Clean sheets. Junk-food filled cabnets. Fluffed pillows. Breakfast in the fridge.

I'm ready.

Sixty and I are having our first slumber party Friday night.

And no. We're not doing the nasty. Get your minds out of the gutters. Actually, we had a talk about the nasty earlier in the week.

Now, kids? Listen here. I'm really reluctant to talk about all of this with you. One day, Sixty may know about this blog and I may regret telling you all of this. But this story is an imporant step in mine and Sixty's relationship, and I think you should know about it. Afterall, this blog is called Sandra Dee Dates.

So here goes.

Monday night, I got home from work late. After taking off my sweaty gym clothes and taking a shower, I checked my e-mail. (This is really nothing earth shattering because I obessively check my e-mail about a million times a day, but I digress.) The inbox showed a note from Sixty. "Hey Sexy!" it said. What's this?, I thought.

Talk about surprised. I won't go into detail, but basically what he said was that he was really concerned that all of our hot and heavy sessions were going to lead us to the point where we would both want sex. He was really concerned about this, even thought we'd talked about how we are both waiting until our wedding nights. He was afraid that we were both going to get weak and just give in.

I'm sure he's been wrestling with this issue for a while now - as have I. And as much as I like this dude, you don't think that I was willing to compromise and give in if he wanted to? Come on. I would have. Totally. But Sixty brought up a good point in his e-mail: If we do give in and have sex, we are just going to resent ourselves afterwards for doing it.

Exactly my reasoning behind waiting until I am married. It's not the actual sex I'm worried about - it's the emotional mess of the aftermath that scares me.

So basically, he was wanting to know where I stood on the issue. And I wasn't about to have a conversation like this over e-mail or the phone.

I called him. "Sixty?" I said when he answered. "I got your e-mail."

Nervous laughter. "Aaand?"

"Sixty? I'm going to come over, and we're gonna talk about this okay? See ya in a few."

When I got there, he was waiting on the front porch. We got in his car and drove around. I don't want to blog about all of the conversation, but basically we agreed that we were not having sex. Period.

What I told him was that even if you took all of the sexual tension out of our relationship, it wouldn't matter to me because I would still want to be with him regardless.

And that's the damn truth.

"Did I mention you're awesome?" he said, smiling.

I think he's awesome, too.

And he's so awesome that I'm sharing my bed with him on Friday for a slumber party. Now that we know how far we both want to go, I think we can be adult and mature enough to handle a sleepover.

And maybe even throw in a pillow fight, too.

Delightful

Sixty's mom was absolutely delightful.

Bubbly, fun, low-maintenance. My kind of lady. And she thought I was - suprisingly - hilarious. She laughed at everything I said.

Lemme back up.

Driving to Sixty's hometown on Saturday afternoon, we got there a bit earlier than she was expecting. He called her when we were about five mintues away.

She wasn't finished vaccuuming. "Go get coffee!" she said, frantically.

How funny.

So we picked up Starbucks - and my super thoughtful boyfriend picked some up for his mother, too - and stuck around there for a while. As my latte was cooling off, I was heating up. Sweating that is. I mean, come on. I was a tad nervous.

We pulled up to the door, and this gigantic Cujo of a Boston terrier comes lunging towards the open door. Damn thing jumped all over me, slobbering profusely, and yipping like a mo' fo'. Sixty and I were so busy getting the damn dog settled down that I didn't even pay attention to his mother in front of us.

"Oh! Hi!" I said. "Mrs. Sixty - it's so nice to meet you!" I said politely.

"You, too, Sandra Dee," she replied. "Come on in."

Sixty gave her a hug and her coffee, and we headed to the den to sit and chat. I really didn't know what to expect, but I was pleasantly surprised. She was so easy to get along with and was so genuine with me. I really like those kind of people.

Sixty had decided that we would go get something for dinner and then see Mission Impossible: III, and that sounded fine with me. We headed out the door about 5:30, and Sixty insisted on driving. "I drive Mom around all the time when I come by myself," he said. "It's no big deal." How super cute.

Dinner was fantastic, and the movie was equally as good - if you look past the fact that I sat between him and his mother. Does anyone think that's a little awkward? Whateva.

We got back to her house, chatted some more, and headed out. I told Sixty right when we got back into the car, "I really like her, Sixty. She's just delightful."

"She liked you, too," he smiled. "I could just tell."

I'd say Operation Meet the Mom spelled success.

Meet the Parents

Yup. I'm going through with it.

I'm meeting Sixty's family.

I'm admittedly a tad nervous, but also pretty excited. He is super close with his family and naturally talks about them frequently, so I'm anxious to see what they're like in person.

He's actually only able to introduce me to his mother and younger brother (he's the middle child) - and not his dad. His father is a truck driver and out on the road all the time, so naturally he won't be able to make it.

He brought it up during dinner. We ate out last night, and during drinks, he mentioned his going home this weekend. (His family lives about an hour and a half away.) As he was telling me this, I was trying to act like I didn't care. But really? I did. A lot.

You see, Sixty is having major surgery on the 19th. I have asked off from work so I could be there for it. I mean, he'd need a caregiver for a bit, right? Only problem: His mother and brother were planning on coming for it, too.

I really didn't want our first meeting to be when Sixty wasn't exactly coherent.

But if I didn't come - just to avoid this awkward meeting - you don't think his mother wouldn't be saying "Well, she's not much of a girlfriend if she doesn't come to your surgery, now is she, Sixty?"

So this meet-the-parents deal solves that problem.

The next problem? What in the world do I wear?!

It's official. I am totally smitten with this fellow.

My weekend couldn't have been any better.

An update on my love life in a sec. But first: Thanks for the mega comments recently, readers! I love reading each and every one of them.

And secondly: I've been hitting the gym a lot more frequently these days. I reached down to rub my arm after my workout session yesterday, and I seriously thought "MAN! That isn't my arm!" I love that feeling. At least I can tell I'm getting somewhere with my efforts, right?

On with the update.

So the sorority needed a chaperone or two for their date party. Sixty and I obliged. I had my perfect outfit picked out: long scarlet tank, matching scarlet shrug, black pants and stillettos. I looked hawwwwwt. And Sixty sure seemed to think so, too, because he did one of those look-me-up-and-down things when I went to the door. Yeowch.

We left town a little on the early side, but that was fine because we wanted to take our time getting there. We ate dinner with my friends, and I know Sixty was nervous because he hardly said anything at first. Poor kid. I suggested a couple of beers with our pizza. I think that loosened him up.

Sororities always have to take a bus to their parties, so I rode on the bus while Sixty followed in his truck -- since we wanted to be able to leave when we wanted to from the party. When we got there, the music inside was blaring, and people were bellying up to the bar. Since we were chaperoning, we obviously couldn't drink, but we didn't care. We were going to have fun anyway.

After making the rounds and meeting people, we decided to explore the place. There was this great upstairs - probably used for eating with larger parties - and he and I decided to snoop around up there. All of a sudden, Sixty pulls me around the corner, pushes me into the wall, and proceeds to make out with me. Holy cow. Was I ever surprised. And I'm talking hard-core make-out here, people. I couldn't believe he was doing this! I never dreamed he'd be like that! After a good 15 minutes, the other bus load of people showed up, and we had to make sure the underagers weren't smuggling flasks in with them. We had to call it quits.

On our way down the stairs, my girlfriends looked up at us and burst out laughing. Sixty and I just looked at each other puzzled, and then I figured out what was going on. They were totally on to us. I'm sure my hair looked like a mess, my shrug was falling off, and he and I were holding hands. My friends know me too well. What can I say? I like to make out. If they only knew that he was the predator in this incident.

I freshened up, and we hit the dance floor. Duuuude. That kid can move. At one point, he said:"You are so hot," and I got all tingly, kids. I played it off like he meant I was really sweaty, so I apologized, but I knew what he meant. I was thinking the same thing about him. The dancing seemed to help him loosen up a bit. We took a walk around the lake, talked and danced some more, and by that time, it was past midnight and about time to leave.

Besides. Were were going to church in the morning together.

I said my goodbyes to everyone, we were out the door by 12:30 a.m. and back home by 1:30 a.m. Needless to say, Sunday morning came reallllly early, but I rolled out of bed, excited about praising me some Jesus. And I was going to see Sixty in a totally new light than any of our previous dates, and I couldn't wait.

The sermon was wonderful, and just what I needed to hear. We sang some of my favorite hymns, and I thouroughly enjoyed listening to Sixty sing. He has such a handsome speaking voice as it is, but he can also carry himself a very nice tune. He couldn't sit still during the sermon, but I patted his leg, and he seemed to calm down a bit.

After the service was finished, we got up and walked out, talking about the church and the sermon. The way he expresses himself about the Lord gets me all excited. His love for Jesus is one of the most attractive qualities he possesses, and I've told him that. He's just such a super guy.

Out in the car, he suggested that we grab some lunch and eat in the park. We found the perfect spot - complete with ducks - with no one else there. It was peaceful and perfect. After a couple hours of laying in the sun, we moved under a shady tree.

He said, "Do you know what we're sitting under?" he said. "A tree?" I said. "No," he replyed. "Mistletoe."

I thought he had to be kidding. What a lame attempt to make out with me. But I looked up, and sure enough. A huge sprout of mistletoe. "What in the world?" I said, after he kissed me. He informed me that mistletoe was actually a parasite, and it had infested the tree we were under. Who knew mistletoe was a parasite? And the irony that we would be sitting under it. Too funny.

We collected our things, and he headed to my place to drop me off. He ended up coming in, and we took a nap together. It was delightful. And come to find out? He likes to spoon. Yay! Me too.

Did I mention my weekend couldn't have been any better?