Sandra Dee Dates

Tales from a sweet and innocent girl next door. Well, okay. Maybe not that innocent.

Monday, November 20, 2006

I'm A Crappy Girlfriend

After reading this, I've decided that I make a crappy girlfriend.

1. I am too nice: Men like bitches. I'm not bitchy. I can't help it; it's just the way I am built. Now don't get me wrong -- I can get mad at the dude just fine. But being bitchy for the sake of being bitchy isn't my thang.

2. I am too accommodating: If they ask me to go camping, I go. If they want to go eat sushi, I go. What can I say? I'm really just that easy to please. Because guess what? Making a fuss over stupid shit like not wanting to go camping is stupid.

3. I fall too hard. And I don't mean down the stairs.

4. I am too giving. I don't mind making dinner for us every once in a while. Wait. Maybe I'm a bad cook, and I don't realize it?...

5. I am a virgin. And I plan on staying that way until I'm married. I'm fairly certain this freaks dudes out.

6. I don't use a tanning bed. Or a nail salon. Or dye in my hair. Or Botox. What you see is what you get.

Excuse me while I go talk to my plants now.

Saturday, November 11, 2006


It's Friday night, and we're making our way to our favorite bar. Walking up the sidewalk, we see a line outside about 20 people long.

We hear shouting as we get closer. "We can only take 2 more people," the guy checking IDs yells to the people waiting. A loud groan from the line. "Who's up for Eddie's?" my friend Events Coordinator asks.

We all squeal. "Let's do it!" I chime in. News Anchor and Social Worker agree, and the girls and I pile back into the car.

Eddies is a famous bar in town. It's run by a man who is probably 60 years old, and he still bartends the place. I've never been before, but I've heard stories. The girls are regulars there, and besides, who doesn't need to make a few memories? I'm tired of the same ol', same ol' anyway.

Upon arrival, we see the same thing: a line out the door. However, this time we were willing to wait because the bouncer was making room for everyone. IDs in hand, we breeze past the door and inside the building.

Pushing past the shoulder-to-shoulder people, I notice the place is extremely dark, except for the glow of a huge, ghetto jukebox in the corner. Plastered over every square inch of the walls and ceiling are dollar bills that people have autographed. The place smells like an ashtray. Interesting.

Squinting and looking around, I was expecting a nasty crowd of people, considering we were in a shady part of town. However, it was quite the opposite. Everything from boots and belt buckles to metrosexuals. While the atmosphere left something to be desired, I was impressed nonetheless.

We waddle up to the bar and order Eddie's signature drink, The Dirty Lemonade -- beer, orange juice and amaretto -- and grab a tiny table in the back. As we slug down our Dirty Lemonades, my girl friend Social Worker and I decide we're not waiting -- we're getting another beer before it gets any more crowded.

"I can't believe the crowd here!" I exclaim. "You wouldn't expect these types of people at a little whole-in-the-wall place."

"You'd be surprised at who you'd meet here," Social Worker said.

Pushing through to the front, we bump into a group of really drunk dudes. I politely say "excuse me" as the tallest one whips around. During his about-face, he accidentally spills his beer on my chest, right between my breasts. "I'm so sorry!" he apologizes. His friends laugh hysterically. "Let me help you dry that off," he said grinning. He reaches for my boobs, going for the kill.

I gasp, push his hand away and say, "I will knock you to next Tuesday if try that shit with me." He seemed mildly amused by my reaction, and his friend makes an inaudible comment. They laugh again. Glaring at them, I whip around, order my beer, and make my way back to my seat. I couldn't wait to tell the group what had happened.

"The nerve!" I said, telling them the story. "What's happened to all the romantic and polite gentlemen?!" I ask. "That was pretty nervy," Social Worker adds. "Men!" News Anchor exclaims. "Can't live with 'em. Can't kill 'em!" We laugh.

If that incident had happened any where else besides Oklahoma, I might have been worried. Good thing it was probably just a couple of good ol' boys looking for a laugh. Trying to shake it off, I finish my beer. As I look around, I wonder if I can brave the druken perverts for one more trip to the bar. My love for beer overrides my common sense, and I get up to push through one more time.

By this point, it is so packed, I'm practically shoving people out of my way. I get near the front, and a tall, very handsome gentleman with a gotee turns to the side to let me past him. I smile, we lock eyes for a second, and I say a polite "thank you." He smiles. The bar appears through the wall of people. I push money into the bartender's hand while he passes me a Bud Light.

The final challenging walk to the table is ended as I plop down. At least I escaped the perverts, I think. More of our guy friends have joined us at this point, and we're chatting with them about the earlier incident. They're naturally appalled.

Just then, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I am hesitant to turn around. While my first reaction was it was proabaly the Boob Grabber, I was pleasantly surprised.

"Are you here with anyone?"

"Me? Oh goodness, no," I reply, smiling. He extends his hand.

It was the goteed gentleman from a few mintues ago. He is much better looking up closer. "My name is Ned, and I would be very interested in getting to know you outside of this setting."

I blush and cover my face in my hands. Laughing sheepishly, I take his outstretched hand. "Well thank you, Ned. My name is Sandra Dee." He cups my hand with his other hand. I am still blushing. Dammit, I'm never good with this. Thank goodness this bar is dark.

"I don't have my cell phone with me, or I would ask for your phone number. Do you have a business card?" he asks.

I rumage around for my card holder and pull it out. As I write my cell phone number on the back of it, I ask for his card in return. He smiles and hands one to me.

"I look forward to talking with you again and getting to know you better, Sandra Dee," Ned said. "Have a wonderful evening." And with that, he left.

Who said all of the gentlemen were gone?

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

E-mail Banter

I had a long discussion about this with my friend over the weekend.

"I've been sitting on Ben's e-mail address for like three weeks now," I told L. "I have been hesitant to contact him because I don't know what I want from it all."

L is full of superior advice. "Just approach it how you would any potential relationship. Just have fun and see where it goes. Don't hold any expectations to it. Just go with the flow, Sandra Dee." She really is my voice of reason.

So the decision was made. I sent an e-mail asking him about typical things. His family. Job. How funny that he was in my best friend's Bible study. Nothing too heavy. I must have read that thing over 246 times, praying long and hard before willing myself to hit "send."

I returned home last night from the Hornets game last night and opened my e-mail. And there is was. An e-mail from him.

His brother is married. His father and mother are semi-retired. He's moving to Tulsa.

Oh. Did I mention he started his own company?

That's right. He started his own company.

Sigh. He was everything I wanted in a mate, and I threw it all away because I wasn't ready for such a serious committment. I wanted to date other people and see what else was out there. And basically what I found was I was always comparing everyone to him. No, he wasn't perfect -- no one is -- but he would have jumped over the moon backwards for me if I'd asked him to.

I couldn't come up with the words to respond last night. It just wasn't coming out the way I wanted it to. I was trying to get something out that was important to me to say.

And that was an apology of how sorry I am about everything.

I have read the thing over 246 times and still can't will myself to hit "send."

Sunday, November 05, 2006

Weekend Update

Friday: Went to work. Was still drunk from Thursday night. Still employed, despite this. Suffered from pounding headache all day.

Saturday: Went to sports bar for the games. Drank two beers. Drove home. Ran red light. Was shocked I did not get pulled over. Came home to go to sleep. Got drug out of bed to go salsa dancing with girlfriends. Got to salsa bar only to discover that we are the only white people there. Go to bathroom. Notice envelopes full of condoms on counter while drying hands. Classy.

Sunday: Got up. Wished I could sleep in. Went to church. Praised some Jesus. Went to the mall. Wrote him an e-mail. Did laundry. Went grocery shopping. Made delicious corn chowder.

What?! Wrote him an e-mail?!!

Stay tuned.