Sandra Dee Dates

For anyone who still reads this...

2007-12-03T11:31:00.000-08:00

... the Reporter and I are getting married on March 1!

One Year Anniversary

2007-01-21T16:48:00.000-08:00

It's hard to believe that exactly one year ago today, Sandra Dee Dates was born.

It began with my exciting adventures in online dating. It ventured into the world of coupledom with Sixty. It detoured into the what-might-have-been with an old flame.

Now it's taken a turn into the world of possibilities with The Reporter.

And what exciting possibilities they might be.

The always awkward "define the relationship" talk was broached this week, and I felt eerily comfortable bringing it up with him.

"I don't want to date anyone else," I said to him while we were on the couch. I couldn't believe the words were so effortlessly coming out of my mouth. And he happily agreed that he was done looking as well.

Maybe it's because this relationship is one of such ease, but who would have thought that such a terrifying, vulnerable conversation could be so simple?

There is even talk of my meeting his parents next weekend. And unlike how it's been with other men that I've seriously dated, I'm completely unafraid of this big step.

Strange as it sounds, I'm actually looking forward to it.

Maybe it's because I'm ready to begin a new chapter with The Reporter. I'm ready to experience a full-fledged, adult-ish relationship with him. I'm excited to be with someone who is so crazy about me and likes me for who I am. I'm ready to strive at making it work with one another.

And for the first time in my life, I'm completely and totally myself with him. That speaks volumes in my books.

So on this one-year anniversary, I'm not looking back on all of the hilarious and horrible dates of the past year.

I'm looking forward to the future with a wonderful man on my arm.

Here's to you, readers. Thanks for a great year!

Hello Long Lost Friends!

2007-01-14T15:43:00.000-08:00

While I'm still not convinced that The Reporter hasn't found my blog, I'm going to blog a little about him anyway.

You know. Because you asked where I've been.

I've been leary to begin blogging again, ever since I discovered what a bitch Google could be. But writing is such a release for me -- and I just adore hearing from you all -- that I could never give it up entirely.

So screw you, Google. I'm bloggin' on.

My New Year's Eve was super. The Reporter had invited me to a party that his friends were putting on. It was considered a "faux formal" -- which meant anything from tuxes and dresses to jeans and fancy shirts. I was a bit leery of going, just because it was going to involve meeting most of his friends.

But I'm so glad that I went. Not only were his friends great, but The Reporter is the epitome of a gentleman. He showed up in a killer suit and brand new shirt and tie, looking nothing short of completely dapper. Not to mention that he remembered that I'm somewhat allergic to flowers -- so he got me chocolates instead.

With reservations for a fancy dinner, he had made all the right moves. And he just made me feel glamorous and ladylike.

And of course, we began the New Year with a kiss, at which I must say he is very good.

Wink.

This last week, however, takes the cake. I wasn't expecting to get to see much of him because not only was I coming down with a cold, but I also had lots of work and a few social engagements to tend to. But we had made plans earlier in the week to watch our boys play basketball on Wednesday, and he agreed to come on over to my house.

With a raging headache, a terrible sore throat and body aches to boot, I show up at the door in sweats and a t-shirt.

We watched a bit of the game -- which was a disaster -- and with my not feeling well, I wasn't expecting him to want to stay around.

What does he do instead?

Cuddles with me on the couch. Tucks me into bed. Brings me food the next night. Tells me I'm beautiful even when I'm sick.

A girl could get used to this.

I think he's keeping me around for a while.

And maybe I like it.

Happy New Year!

2006-12-31T12:57:00.000-08:00

Yes, I have big New Year's Eve plans.

Yes, they are with The Reporter.

Yes, I am excited.

Yehaw.

Happy New Year!

Too Easy to Find

2006-12-27T08:12:00.000-08:00

You all have probably wondered where the last two posts have gone about The Reporter.

I wish I could have kept them up. I wish I could blog about my newest dating adventure.

But alas, Google has found a way to link Sandra Dee Dates to my AIM screen name, my MySpace address and my other blog.

So I'm bound to be found.

Awesome.

So in the meantime, enjoy the other posts, and I'll find something else to blab about.

Cheers!

I'm in love with Boston and New York City.

2006-12-08T07:27:00.000-08:00

My trip to Boston and New York City was a complete and utter fairy tale.

It was my first time in both cities, and it was a bit overwhelming. The buildings were so tall. The people were everywhere. The subways so fast.

But experience was unforgettable.

I give all my thanks to my trip parther, Jeff. I couldn't have done it without him. He kept me grounded and protected me. I felt like a lost puppy dog, wandering around and looking up at all of the buildings and the people. And Jeff kept me on a much-needed leash.

I'm exhausted.

But it's the good kind of exhausted.

I can die happy.

I'm A Crappy Girlfriend

2006-11-20T20:00:00.000-08:00

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.

Gentlemen

2006-11-11T19:44:00.000-08:00

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?

E-mail Banter

2006-11-08T19:40:00.000-08:00

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."

Weekend Update

2006-11-05T20:51:00.000-08:00

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.

I can't believe I'm actually doing this!

2006-10-29T11:34:00.000-08:00

I just bought plane tickets for my trip!

Who's excited?

Me!

"Zay Bye Bye Cuticlez!"

2006-10-24T18:48:00.000-07:00

It was a first for me.

A gay man held my hand tonight.

After getting off work at a decent hour, I decided a trip to the mall was in order. My fall and winter wardrobe was looking really drab, so I figured some new pants for work and a couple of sweaters were totally deserved.

On the second floor, I struck out in New York and Company, Charlotte Russe and the Gap -- my three favorites -- but decided to head down to the new Macy's. As I traveled down the escalator, a gentleman manning a kiosk had a bottle of lotion in his hands. With two steps to go on the stairway, I decided to skip them and get to the landing quickly in order to avoid him. Those people at the kiosks are creepy.

Damn it. It was too late. He saw me coming, and I was blocked in.

"Doo zee vant to try zee lowzion?" he asked. I giggling at his thick accent, hoping to head on my way to Macy's for a pant-trying-on extravaganza.

As I smiled, shook my head no and waved my hand goodbye, he took my hand and looked at my nails. "Oh oh oh oh oh!," he gasped, his mouth hanging open. "Here! Zou must come!" he cried, pulling me over to his kiosk. With his other arm, he flamboyantly unveiled a station full of salon-type lotions and nail products. "Voila!" he exclaimed. I politely stood there, smiling and waiting for the sales pitch.

"You have zee natural nailz, no?" I politely shook my head yes, and he reached for a nail buffer on the counter. "Vell! Here! Vatch! Zee ridgez in nailz? Zey vill dizappear after zis!" He grabbed my hand, pulled it toward him, and buffed at my thumb. "Zis magic, no?"

"Oh, okay," I said uncomfortably. "That's great. Thanks." As I squirmed under the nail buffer, I couldn't help but think how many germy hands and nails he had already used this contraption on already today. I cringed and tried to wiggle my hand away.

"But vee are not done mizz!" he said, grabbing my hand tighter. "Vee have only juzt started!"

Oh that's super.

"Zee next step," he said, turning over the nail buffer, "iz to shine zee nail!," he stopped buffing. "Zoo have beauuuuutivul eyes, ma'am."

I smiled politely. This was really making me uncomfortable. Plus I'm not stupid. I'm in marketing. I know how this works. Butter up the poor naive girl, hoping she'll buy a damn nail buffer. Well forget it. I'm not biting.

"Time iz almost up, but firzt, it iz time for zee pop quiz!" he exclaimed with a creepy smile on his face. "How many timez vould you zay you do zee nailz? Ehhh, hardly never? Beahh, hardly never? Ceyyy, hardly never? Or deahh, hardly never?"

I glared at him. My nails are very well kept, thankyouverrrrymuch. I trim and file them weekly and even push back my cuticles on a regular basis. However, I never paint them because they always chip and, quite frankly, chipped polish just looks tacky.

"How about E, every once in a while." I said rudely. He laughed, thinking all of this was very humorous, and he reached for a bottle of oil. "How long do zee zink dee nail vill stay shiny like ziz?" he asked.

Before I even had time to answer, he had dropped this oil on my nail and rubbed it around. "Look how zee nail shinez!" he exclaimed. He really must be into this job. He is getting excited about a damn shiny nail for crying out loud.

The next thing you know, he grabs another bottle and squirts two drops onto my cuticles. "Zis oil vill make zee cuticlez dizappear!" he cried. "Zay bye bye cuticlez!"

He paused and looked at me, smiling widely.

I stared back.

"I zaid, 'Zay bye bye cuticles!" he repeated, looking down at my nail.

Oh, you are kidding me. "Zay bye bye cuticles!" he said again, waving at my nails, wanting me to do the same.

That was it. I was done being polite. This dude was weirding me out.

"Thank you sir. This was all very fascinating, but I have to run!" I pulled my hand out of his reach. He followed me protesting, but I beelined it for Macy's. As I got a ways down the isle, I turned around, and he had found another unsuspecting victim. Whew.

No one is going to tell me I don't have nice nails! I have perfectly fine looking nails!, I thought to myself as I tried on slacks in the dressing room of the department store.

But what did I do when I got home?

I trimmed and filed my nails. I even pushed back the cuticles.

If only I could remember where that nail buffer was.

Didn't I tell you I was a mass murderer?

2006-10-19T07:23:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I think I really should just sabotage the date.

You know. Like tell them I'm going through rehab. Or was just released from prison. Or better yet, tell them I'm married.

Don't get me wrong. The bowling was fun. But the highly competitive nature of my date was just about all I could handle. He bowls on a league. I didn't know this. "If I get three more strikes, I'll be 60 points ahead of you!" he cheered.

Excuse me? Chill out. This is supposed to be fun. It's called a game.

The conversation was nice. That is, if you like your date to talk all the freaking time. And when I tried to enter something into the conversation, he would interrupt me and finish my sentences.

It was like a race for me to get my words out before he would start talking again.

After two games, I had pretty much had enough, but he wanted to know if I wanted anything to eat. "Where were you wanting to go?" I asked. He wanted to eat at the bowling alley.

Now I'm not above bowling alley food, but it's not the healthiest thing the world, so I told him I wasn't hungry. Plus I just wanted to go home.

"I ate lunch. I'm good," I said. And he acted like he had never heard anyone who had skipped a meal. "You haven't eaten since lunch?" he said. "That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard! And not to mention very unhealthy to skip meals like that. I hope you don't do that all the time!"

Yes, I do skip meals all the time, thankyouverrrrymuch.

He got something to eat anyway.

Did I mention that he picked me up? At my house? This was the first time for him to do this with me. And he brought bottles of wine. I mean, I thought it was nice, but awfully presumptuous. It just looked like he was inviting himself into my house after the bowling.

And that he did. "Let's go in and drink that wine and watch tv," he said.

WHY AM I SO FREAKIN' NICE?! I said yes. I don't know why I said yes, but I did.

We had some nice conversation. Wait. He had some nice conversation, and I did my best to stay awake and listen to him drone on and on and on. That was more like it.

By 11:20, I am just about asleep on the couch. I told him I was getting tired, and said he should probably go.

"Oh, but the Seinfeld reruns come on in 10 minutes! Let's wait and watch that first," he said.

Ah yes. Why didn't I sabotage the date again?

I think I'm going to tell him I'm gay.

Bowling

2006-10-17T08:59:00.000-07:00

I guess the Weatherman had a good time afterall. He sent me an e-mail the day after our first date:

"Hope your day is going well. I had a good time last night. I hope you didn't get too cold out by the lake! But, at least it didn't rain the whole time. If you would like to get together again then maybe we could later on this week or weekend. I hope to hear from you soon."

We are seeing one another again tonight. He wants to go bowling.

That's perfect because those navy and red bowling shoes really bring out my eyes.

The Date was Mostly Sunny with the Possibility of Showers

2006-10-11T10:43:00.000-07:00

Seven-thirty had arrived.

I stepped into the restaurant and looked around. I asked the hostess if she had seen a tall, blonde-haired man come in by himself.

"No ma'am," she replied, so I excused myself to sit in the waiting area for him.

Seven-thirty became 7:35, which quickly became 7:45. We hadn't exchanged phone numbers, so I couldn't call him to make sure he wasn't in a ditch somewhere. I patiently waited.

Just then, the door opened, and I saw him.

He was cute! Actually cuter than his picture, which is completely unheard of! Tonight might not be so bad afterall, I thought. Donning a polo shirt -- tucked in, mind you -- jeans and hiking boots, I was glad I hadn't dressed up much more that I had. I was wearing some bowling shoe-type sneakers, a corduroy jacket and jeans.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized. "I got a little turned around out by one of the docks." I laughed and said I'm glad he made it, and we shook hands. The hostess led us to the table.

We got to talking, and I could tell he was nervous. He hardly looked at me while he answered my questions. I started to recommend the Bloody Mary and get going with our drink orders, but he said, "I'm hungry. How about you?"

"Um," I hesitated. Sure I was hungry, but when you skip drinks and go right to the meal, you have to worry about who pays. And I hate that part. "Um. I could eat, but I had a pretty big lunch, so I won't get too much."

"Well, I'd like to get something to eat if that's all right," he said. I was cool with that, but I apologized for choosing such an expensive restaurant. "I had no idea if we'd want to eat or not," I said. He said it wasn't a problem. We ordered beer. Then he got shrimp and I got soup, figuring if he pays, I wouldn't be getting something too expensive.

We dove into the conversation. And conversate he did. Maaaan, he was Mr. Chatty McChatterson. But that was fine with me -- I don't like being the talkative one all the time. He told me all about his job. His family. His interesting college choices -- University of Hawaii for an oceanography degree and Florida State University for his masters in meteorology.

He certainly was smart. That wasn't an issue. But my next question was: Did he have personality? He made a comment about his working with people in Japan and how he was glad they spoke English. I don't know if it was the way he said it or if it just struck me as funny, but I thought it was hilarious. Definitely a dry sense of humor but had personality none-the-less.

After dinner, he said: "Would you like to get dessert?" I took that as a good sign that he wanted to keep the date going. He ordered, and again asked me if I wanted anything. I said no, but the waitress brought out two spoons. He offered me some, and I took him up on it. And it was really delicious.

The check came, and he didn't hesitate to pick it up, which I thought was really nice. I didn't ever offer, but I thanked him. As he was signing the bill, Uncomfortable Moment Number 1 occurred:

Me: "You know, sometimes first dates are like pulling teeth, but this was really enjoyable."
Him: Makes a scrunched up face like "What the hell are you talking about?"

Awwwwkward.

He quickly changed the subject to how much I thought he should leave as the tip. I said maybe 15 percent. He figured it out, in his head, in about 10 seconds. And I'm not gonna lie. It was totally hot. What can I say? I go for the nerds.

At 9:45, I thought that was going to be the end of the date. "Would you like to take a walk around the lake?" he asked. Oh. I took that as another good sign. "It might be a little chilly out for a walk, don't you think?" I asked.

"Nah. You can wear my jacket if you'd like," he said.

Hmm. Let's recap. Smart. Cute. Personable. Gentlemanly. That's cool.

"That's awfully nice of you. I might take you up on that," I said as we stood up and headed to the door. We stepped outside and walked around by the dock and the boats. We joked around a little and talked our favorite Seinfeld episodes and family vacations. And my hands were jammed into my pockets, I was so cold.

"How about that jacket?" as he took his coat off and put it on me.

About 10:30, I mentioned I was getting a bit sleepy, so I asked if we could call it a night. He said sure and walked me to my car.

I gave him his jacket back, and Uncomfortable Moment Number 2 occurred:

Me: "I had a very nice time. I hope we can do it again soon!"
Him: "Yes, we'll be in touch."

Whaaa? I was a litle offended, but then I remembered we hadn't exchanged phone numbers. Maybe that's why he said that? I guess I will e-mail him tomorrow telling him I had fun and give him my number.

On the chance that I don't ever hear from this meteorologist again, I would say the date was mostly sunny with a chance of showers.

Tomorrow's Forecast: Drinks with a Chance of Hitting It Off

2006-10-09T08:44:00.000-07:00

Drinks tomorrow with the meteorologist.

I suggested that because I didn't have the heart to tell him I haven't ridden a bike in a while.

Besides, it's supposed to rain.

But he probably already knew that.

Short Stories

2006-10-06T11:01:00.000-07:00

The Situation went a little sumpin' like this:

"Sandra Dee! You just need to call him!" my friend said after she called me.

"What did he say to you?" I said.

"He wanted to know all about you," she said. "He said: 'I haven't talked to her in years. What's she doing nowadays?' So I told him about your job and where you were living. Stuff like that. Sandra Dee -- he even had the t-shirt from a date party that you all went to!"

Oh. Well then. It must be fate. Of course.

I don't know, y'all. My friend gave me his phone number. I've been thinking about calling him, but just to catch up. Nothing more.

To be continued.

***

The jinx is cured.

I am meeting the meteorologist sometime next week. No set date yet. He suggested a bike ride and then dinner.

I'm afraid to tell him that the last time I rode my bike, I was about 16.

The lawyer finally written me back and sent his picture. He's cute. I don't care that he's 5'10". He's good looking, and he's a lawyer. And is quite polite in his e-mails, with his calling me "madam" an all.

The Air Force Academy guy? Disappeared. Fine with me.

I say two outta three ain't bad.

***

Last night was spent hanging out with some new friends. We went to a comedy club, and maaaaan, that was some funny stuff.

However, these friends were friends from church. And the comedians were totally raunchy.

Thaaaat was awkward.

We laughed about that afterwards. It's nice to know they're not so high and mighty as to not enjoy a beer and some off-color humor every now and then, eh?

***

Whenever someone asks me what my favorite season is, I always tell them it's football season.

I know I've got a Longhorn fan and a Sooner fan out there, but I'm here to tell you that I'm pulling for Texas.

Me being a Cowpoke and all. And my boys better bring it against K-State, too. Gah.

If only I had a nice brewskie to enjoy with the football this weekend.

Perhaps a trip to the gas station is in order?

The First Love Situation

2006-10-03T19:59:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning, I bounded out of bed for a community-wide rowing competition. No, I wasn't competiting. (Sorry Jamy! Hopefully you'll enjoy the story anyway!) Instead, because my friend was the volunteer coordinator for the event, I had volunteered to run the VIP tent for the special fancy-schmancy donors.

After parking and signing in, I headed to the tent. And guess who was there. Remember the unexpected friend from a few weeks back? Yup. And guess how did he greeted me. With a huge smile and a hug. I really had forgotten about him and how adorable he is.

We didn't get to work the entire time together because he was scheduled to leave just about after I got there. But it was really nice seeing a friend. And his hug didn't hurt things.

In other news, I think my blogging about the online prospects may have jinxed it. I have not heard back from one guy. This online deal is for the birds, I tell you. I would much rather focus on the in-person variety for a while.

Speaking of the in-person variety, I know many of you would like to know more about The First Love Situation, as I like to call it. The Bible study is tomorrow. And I'm so nervous I can hardly talk about it.

I'm nervous that he might have some hateful things to say about me. I'm nervous that he might have some wonderful things to say about me. I'm nervous that he might not want to catch up with one another. I'm nervous that we decided to catch up, and my feelings for him come back. I'm nervous that the feelings don't come back.

Or what if I secretly want the feelings to come back? But do I want him? Or do I just like the cutesy story that it would make? And am I ready to leave my life as a single gal and enter relationship land again?

It was five years ago. He and I are completely different people now Or at least I certainly am. And I'm scared that he might like and remember the girl from five years ago and not the mature woman I am today.

Gah. I am a worry wart.

Prospects and an Oh-My-Gawd Moment

2006-09-28T20:25:00.000-07:00

Because I have some people requesting that my posts be more about boys and less about my life, here is the latest.

I am currently pursuing three men of the online variety:

1. A meteorologist
2. An Air Force Academy graduate turned mechanical engineer
3. A lawyer

Losers, I tell you. LOSERS! (Sarcasm, sarcasm.)

More exciting news, however, about the in-person prospects. (And no, the waiter did not call. I know you are are devistated. I personally am okay with it.)

Last week, my coworkers interviewed a couple of interns and hired them for some part-time help around the office. One of them started yesterday. The other started today.

And the one who started today is a freakin' hottie. Like the he-makes-me-nervous-and-sweaty-to-be-around-him type of hottie.

Now before you all go crazy on me, this dude is my age. So it's not like I'm robbing any craddles or anything. And he's just my type. Tall, lanky, shy and quiet, intelligent, gets my humor and goes to a private Christian university in town. I realize this could be a conflict of interest with him working for us and everything, but who says a girl can't have fun with someone while she's at work, eh? And my married coworkers made sure to get the scoop on him in the relationship department: single. Woo the eff hoo. No boundries, kids.

The other news is completely out of this world. Like a serious Oh-My-Gawd Moment.

So let's go back about 5 years ago to the love of my life. Let's call him Sam. I broke up with him for absolutely no reason whatsoever, other than the fact that I wanted to spread my wings and see what else was out there. And I'm a complete idiot and a jackass because of it. My family loved him, his family loved me. He was wonderful to me and treated me like a queen. I have always regretted breaking up with him, but I can't look back on the past, right? Although part of my always wondered what he was up to or at the very least some "what ifs?" would creep in. But onward, I always told myself.

This morning at work, I'm checking out Facebook and my friend has posted new pictures. They are of her Bible study, and someone is celebrating a birthday. Pictures of the party are in the album.

Then I look a little closer.

It's Sam. He's in her Bible study.

Not to sound weird, but I have done Google searches for this dude, just out of curiousity to find out what happened to him after graduation. Nothing would ever come up. And for him to turn up in her Bible study? I was beyond disbelief.

I called her immediately. "Is this Sam in your Bible study?" I ask.

"Yeah, he's a sweetheart. Why? Do you know him?" I told her the background info.

"That is the craziest thing ever. You so need to get a hold of him. Maybe you could reconect or even catch up or something? Oh let me do some name dropping next time I see him!"

Could a second chance with a love of my life be worth it?

Destination: Beantown and The Big Apple (For the first time ever!)

2006-09-27T20:03:00.000-07:00

I am just about to burst with excitement.

Last May, after graduating from Oklahoma State, my college buddy moved up to Boston to take a job with a Web design company. He left with just about nothing but his clothes on his back, so it's been an adventure to say the least. But he loves living up there, and I've never been to anywhere in the northeast before, so I love hearing about his latest escapades.

Monday night, he and I are chatting, and he mentions that our Cowboy basketball team is playing Syracuse in the Jimmy V Classic in Madison Square Garden in December. This is exciting news, not only because I hadn't seen an Oklahoma State schedule yet, but also because I love a good match up for our boys.

"Do you want to go with me to it?" he asks. This coming from the guy who would camp out before the games just to get student seats on the floor. And he's saying this to a girl who never missed a game and had season tickets every year she was in school.

"Don't you joke about that with me," I said. "Because I would so be there."

"I'm serious," he said. "Come up here and I'll show you around Boston. We'll take in New York City the couple of days before the game."

Kt4*PW!!^&MKo#%!!!

Ahem. Okay. So. Lemme recap. I am:

1. Going to see Boston for the first time ever;
2. Going to see New York City for the first time ever;
3. Going to see my Cowboys play in Madison Square Garden; and
4. Going to visit my good friend.

I think I am seriously going to pee my pants.

The Waiter

2006-09-22T07:09:00.000-07:00

Friday night, I rounded up two of my girlfriends for a night of fun and boozin'. After a long week full of overtime at work and a packed schedule with my civic engagement activities (more on that next time), I certainly needed it.

We had every intention of heading to the bars, when I suggested this place. A live band, some fabulously rich and fruity drinks and some delish food, my girls said "why not?" and we headed that way.

There were surprisingly quite a few people still there at 10:30. We grabbed a tall table near the band and glanced at the drink menu.

"Their signature drink is the best," my friend L said. "And it comes with this little sour gummy thing shaped as a cheeseburger!" We laughed. We also decided on some sweet potato chips to accompany our already calorie-laden evening.

The waiter came over to help us. "What'll it be, ladies?" he asked. And we ordered.

While he was gone, we yelled out our requests to the band, who proceeded to play whatever it was we wanted. As the waiter set down our potato chips and cute fruity drinks, we caught up on our latest escapades.

Both girls being attached -- L to a new love interest and the other, M, to a guy who will marry her after he gets back from in basic training for the army in December -- they gushed about their significant others. I laughed and enjoyed the stories. "And what's your love life like these days, Sandra Dee?" the asked.

"Non-existant," I replied, laughing. "But that's okay. I'm kindof liking it that way. I have so much more time to devote to other things, like you guys!" They laughed.

The waitor asked if we wanted another round. I requested my favorite: Boulevard Wheat with extra lemon, and M ordered some shots for us all. He came back, not only with my beer, but with triple shots for us all.

"What's this?" we asked. "We didn't order triples!"

"The extra is on the house," he said with a grin. I laughed and said "Welp, bottom's up ladies!" and chugged it down. We asked for another round of beer. "Coming right up," he said as he took off toward the kitchen.

By this time, we were just about his only table left. We commented on the cute little gummy burgers that were leftover from our fruity drinks. "They're soooo goooood," I cooed.

"Hang on," he said.

He came back with handfuls of gummy burgers, some sunglasses, and a pig made out of a lemon that he'd made for us. How cute.

We offered him some potato chips, and noticed they were all gone. "Be right back," he said, and he came back with some in a to-go box. All at no charge. "They make a great late-night snack," he said. I laughed.

The band starts playing American Girl, and I'm just drunk enough to enjoy the band's slightly off-key song. I'm singing and swaying even after the music is over, and they tell us it's closing time.

We request our tabs. I throw down a $20 bill, and remember that's all the cash I have on me. So I put it back in my wallet and pull out my debit card.

The waiter gathers up all our money. "I'll be right back," he says. He brings back our tickets, and drops mine in front of me. I sign it, giving him a really good tip.

Then he says something. I don't hear him. I just look up at him and smile.

As he walks off with the signed copy of the ticket, M says "Did you give it to him?"

"Give what to him?" I say.

"Did you give him your phone number?" M says again.

"Oh gosh, no! How embarrassing! He'd probably never call anyway," I laugh.

"Sandra Dee! He asked for it!" L said.

I probably looked like someone splashed cold water on my face. "He did not!" I said, shocked.

"He did too!" M said. "As you were signing your check, he said 'Be sure and put your phone number on there while you're at it!"

"Oh gosh." I was so embarrassed. "Well, I don't have a pen." Both girls reached in their purses and pulled out the necessities, one with pen and the other with paper. Like from a movie, kids.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I said, scratching out my name and 10 digits. I set it next to my place setting, and we get up and walk towards the door.

M turns around. "We had fun! Thanks!" she said to the waiter. He waved.

"And make sure we didn't leave anything on the table, will you?" M added.

I'm still blushing.

Choose Your Own Adventure!

2006-09-16T14:09:00.000-07:00

I'm going to have some fun with this one, and I want you all in on it.

Thursday night, I receive an e-mail from an online prospect:

"Just wanted to say hello and comment on your beautiful smile! From reading your profile you seem very intelligent, humorous, and caring, all of which are important. I would like to know more about you. You may reach me via e-mail at [personal e-mail address]. I look forward to hearing back from you soon!"

Checked out his profile. He was cute and had a lot of things goin' for him, so I wrote him. And today he wrote back.

Now. Here's where it gets good.

I always do a little Google search for guys' personal e-mail addresses, if they give them to me. This is just to ensure that there's nothing out there about them that might mean danger.

And his profile on this came up. He's soliciting sex on another Web site. Awesome. Quite the class act.

So! It's time to have some fun with this! This is wayyy too good just to ignore him and not write him back. But I need suggestions for what to say in my e-mail back to him!

It's time to choose your own adventure!

Do you have any ideas, readers?

*EDIT*

Call me a goodie-two-shoes here, readers, but if this dude's out there looking for some casual sex, he's probably not the type of guy I'm interested in anyway. I am not all about the hit-it-and-quit-it types. I realize I'm making asumptions about him by saying this, but when I am already having my doubts about him going in, why even bother? That's all I'm saying.

And there's no harm in having a bit of fun in the process of blowing him off. :)

Still looking for more imput, guys!

I just coughed up my right lung.

2006-09-12T18:02:00.000-07:00

I hate being sick.

But even worse that that? I hate going to the doctor.

With a board meeting this morning at work, I knew I had to make myself go to the office. So I forced myself out of bed and and into the shower.

And it was pretty much downhill from there. I hacked and coughed all the way to work. And I could hardly get through my board report, doing nothing more than hacking up mucus, drawing attention to the fact that I felt like crap. And when I wasn't talking, I was sneezing and blowing my nose.

Then, with things going so well and all in the board room, I decided it would be a good idea to go out to eat with everyone afterwards. And there I proceeded to cough and hack some more while everyone at the table looked at me like "Don't you dare get me sick."

Back at the office, my boss told me to take the afternoon off. "You'll feel so much better after you take a nap and just rest."

So I got in my car, and went to the mall.

I'm kidding. But I really wanted to. Instead, I decided it was time to go to the doctor. Gah. Did I mention I hat the doctor?

But it really wasn't so bad, especially since he gave me some kick ass drugs.

So I filled the presciptions, got some sick-people food at the grocery store, headed home, took my drugs, and had a wonderful nap.

After which, I proceeded to cough up my right lung.

I hope these kick ass drugs kick in soon.

Isn't the single life fun?

2006-09-09T12:15:00.000-07:00

*If you're here from Grins' Single of the Week site -- welcome! Feel free to shoot me an e-mail or leave me a message. I'm anxious to get to know some new bloggers!*

Exciting stories, people. Gather 'round. I've got a few date prospects in my midst.

Thursday night, I had plans to get together with my new lunch group friends from church. We were going to a country and bluegrass music concert at the local outdoor museum, and I was pumped.

Why?

Okay, okay, okay readers. You've drug it out of me. Remember the guy that I said I just couldn't stop thinking about? I met him in this group.

And I was pretty certain he would be there on Thursday. So I found my best lookin' outfit, did my hair and makeup all cute, and was off for food and fellowship at the concert.

THE story of my LIFE. He wasn't even THERE. Why didn't I just give him my card when I saw him the first time?! I'm such a dork! Hrumph. Whatever. I decided to make the most of my cute outfit and good mood, and just enjoy everyone's company instead. Who needs cute boys?

The next thing I know, here comes an adorable guy -- and he sits down next to me. He's dressed in typical Western attire -- a cowboy hat, Wrangler jeans, and cowboy boots -- and even has a thick southern accent to add to it.

Hellllooooooooo, new friend. Yummy.

He introduced himself. He was in construction management for a while, but now he's a realtor.

I bet he asked me about 50 questions all evening. Does that mean he was into me or just an inquisitive dude? Who knows. All I know is that I was enjoying his company.

At one point, we all gathered together for a picture, and everyone had to move their chairs together to squeeze in. He pushed his around closer to me, the girl snapped the picture, and everyone moved their chairs back to their original positions after the picture was taken -- except this guy. Let's just say that if I hadn't thought he was such a cutie, he would have most definitely been in my personal bubble. And he sat that way for the rest of the evening.

At another point, I was kidding around with him, and he playfully hit me. Twice.

I am so dense about this kind of thing, so maybe this encounter was nothing and I'm reading too much into it. But let's just say this: I'll be excited to get to know more about him.

Isn't the single life fun?

Missed My Chance

2006-09-06T13:50:00.000-07:00

Do you ever come into a situation where you know you should have taken advantage of something, but you never did, and now you are regretting it?

Yeah. Me too.

Geez, I'm a dork.

Why didn't I just give him my card?! Why do I always have to be so old fashioned and nervous about that kind of thing?!

How Liberating

2006-08-28T18:07:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have those days where nothing -- nothing -- can bring you down?

Today was one of those days.

I woke up to a morning of cool weather. It hasn't been in the 60s since about March, and you better believe I was excited. If only I had had some warm chai latte to sip while sitting on my porch, my day would have started out that much better.

Perhaps tomorrow. Sigh.

My boss called in sick. I was a powerhouse with my to-do list. My normally frizzy hair was behaving itself perfectly. My brand new computer is finally working superbly -- and it's by far the fastest thing I have ever used in my life. I got to get away from the office to run a few errands. And and and! On my way to run errands, I passed a place that would have normally reminded me of him. And I didn't even think of the connection until I got back to the office.

That's when I know. That's when I know it's official. I'm over it.

How liberating.

After work, I was scheduled to present to one of the student organizations at the local university. Trudging over to the campus, I finally found the building where I was supposed to meet everyone. I found the room and walked in.

And it was packed, people! I bet there were 50 or 60 people in there! I was speaking about how to put together a PR portfolio; not about a missions trip to China for crying out loud! Who the heck wants to listen about portfolios?!

I was really nervous when I got started. But after a while, I got into it, and it was actually pretty loose. They were hanging on my every word. Taking notes. Asking a million great questions. Being attentive.

Afterwards, one of two of the officers said "You were the best speaker we've ever had." The advisor even told me this, too. Sheesh. Talk about driving home on cloud nine. I had no idea that my presentation would even be helpful, let alone the best speaker they've ever had. Geez.

To top it all off, I came home to find a package on my front doorstep.

I had visited yet another church last week, and they came by to drop off cookies for me! They're homemade, too!

But the best part of the day? As I was filling out my calendar at work, I realized that I am becoming more involved in so many new and exciting things than ever before. I'm delving into things that I never would have gotten into had I still been attached.

Prioritizing my life to focus around God and making new friends is something that I am more than excited about.

How liberating.

But oh no no. Don't you worry. I'll still have room for a date or two every now and then.

In fact? There's a certain someone that I just can't help but stop thinking about...

A Crappy Update For Jayme

2006-08-22T20:08:00.000-07:00

I have so much to write about, but not enough time to do it.

So Jayme? You get a crappy update. Sorry.

1. Why is everyone breaking up with one another?! I've had about three friends break up with their boyfriends in the last week. Sheesh. Maybe its the weather.

2. Did I mention the Best Buy guy was cute? I did? Well, he was. The funny thing was he was short, kinda dumpy, and of Arab decent. But he had the most hilarious sense of humor and loads of personality. The other qualities never even crossed my mind until I was well into my computer conversations with him. Isn't that funny how those kinds of things are so much more important to me?

3. Speaking of computers, I got a new computer at work last week! The bad news? We had to have our technology support guys transfer all of my files from the old one to the new one. Buuuut? It comes back tomorrow! It's like Christmas in August! Yahoo!

4. Last Thursday night at the ballpark was a drunken good time -- with $1 Bud Lights! Then again, any Thursday night that I spend with my girlfriends ends up being a good time. We've started a ritual, and it is something I look forward to every week. I think this week we might try going to the Brazilian restaurant roof for some good food and live music.

5. My mother's friend wants to set me up with her nephew. "He told me he just wants to date a good girl, and I immediately thought of Sandra Dee!" How sweet. Hmm. Welp, I'm game.

6. I went to another lunch group at the church yesterday. Where, may I add, there were some fabulous people there yet again. I really like that group. And we're going to the state fair together in a few weeks -- and participating in a service project next month!

7. And remember this? Well, I'm helping the Camp Fire USA people also. I start in the next few weeks, and I'm stoked! I've been dying to help with kids for a while now, and I feel the Lord is pulling me in this direction.

Life is fabulous!

My Last Couple of Days at Work

2006-08-16T19:47:00.000-07:00

I never thought I would be saying this.

But I just want to get some freakin' work done at work!

AHHHHH!

First, my e-mail has not been working. And our web people don't know what's wrong with it yet.

Have you ever tried going through the day at work without your e-mail?

Um, I feel kinda naked without it.

Second, my 5-year-old computer apparently has a bootleg copies of Windows XP, Microsoft Office, Photoshop, InDesign, and every other program on my computer. And somehow? Microsoft has recognized this. As a result, it keeps shorting out and restarting my computer until I get a legitimate copy of XP on it.

Awesome.

So today? I went shopping for a new computer.

Have you ever tried talking about gigabytes and motherboards and duel processors with nerdy techies before?

I hadn't. And I knew I was gonna be lost.

So I called our tech support guy and asked him what he recommended we get. I wrote it down. And armed with my list of essentials -- must have 1 GB of memory, an 80 GB hard drive, and, ahem, legitimate copies of programs, et cetera, et cetera -- I ventured into the semi-unknown territories of Best Buy, Office Depot and CompUSA.

And I walked right up to the service people and gave them the list.

"I don't know what the heck all this is, but I want all of these criteria in one computer for less than $1,000."

They laughed. But they helped me.

Now I have to choose between about 6 different computers.

I think I'm more confused than I was before making my list.

At least the guy at Best Buy was cute.

Hrumph.

2006-08-14T18:03:00.000-07:00

Dear Unsaid Online Dating Service Who Claims to Be the #1 Site for Love:

You bastards.

Sincerely,
Sandra Dee

I am only asking for one thing.

2006-08-11T09:51:00.000-07:00

Dear Unsaid Online Dating Service Who Claims to Be the #1 Site for Love:

I am writing to inform you that I have a date tonight with a gentleman from your Web site. And I am very excited about it.

He is quite good looking in his photos. He has a very well-written profile. We have had several very lengthy phone conversations together, and he seems normal.

He has not brought up meeting his mother. He not 30 years older than I am. He does not e-mail me seven times a day. He does not talk to me like I'm stupid. He had not called to cancel because he is too hungover.

All the signs are there for this to be a good date.

I am only asking for one thing.

Please let him be cute in person.

Sincerely,
Sandra Dee

Friday? Dinner? Perfect.

2006-08-08T18:25:00.000-07:00

Remember this dilema?

After a two and a half hour phone call last night, I was left thinking: "What is his problem?! Ask me out already!"

So I took matters into my own hands this morning via e-mail. The goal was to make him think he was asking me out:

"I enjoyed talking with you last night. What's the next step in all this?"

He replied:

"Well, I imagine the next step in all this would be the two of us get together, go out, and try to have a little fun. If you want, I can call you tonight and we can talk about it for a few minutes? I promise I won't tie you up for two hours this time."

Bingo.

Why waste our time if the chemistry's not there in person?

He called tonight. When are you free? Friday. How about dinner? Perfect.

P.F. Changs at 7:30 p.m. on Friday. Details to come.

Philanthropic Endeavors

2006-08-06T12:05:00.000-07:00

Because everyone that comes around here probably thinks that all I do is work, socialize, work out, and accept the occasional date, I am going to unveil something to y'all that I haven't told many people yet.

It is something that I have been thinking about doing for a while now. And last week, I just decided to jump in and go for it.

My volunteer application for this is complete!

They're supposed to call me next week to talk about where I'm needed, and I can't wait! I have been looking forward to working with these little girls for a long time now.

I did stress that I probably wouldn't be such a great troop leader, but that I had the knowledge of what Girl Scouts was because I had done it in grade school. Maybe I could help them with programming or earning badges. Or maybe even cookie sales! Yum.

I'm so excited!

What are some organizations that you're involved with? Any that you recommend?

The Hanger On

2006-08-03T09:51:00.000-07:00

As The Eternal Freshman likes to call them, I've got a Hanger On.

Just when I was ready to forget the weirdos in the online dating world, get some cats, and start talking to myself, this guy winks at me. Dammit.

So I check out his profile. Hmm. He's cute. Lives in the city. Good grammar and punctuation. College degree. But 5'11", which usually means they're lying, and they're actually 5'7". I decided to look past that with all the other strong points, even though I'm 5'9".

I wink back. He e-mails me: "Thought I'd break the ice and say hi." Super. So I respond several days later, including my regular e-mail address because my subscription is expiring that next day.

We have volleyed e-mails back and forth for about a week now, and he and I finally talked on the phone Tuesday night.

For an hour.

We obviously have a lot in common, and he sent me an e-mail Wednesday morning telling me he enjoyed talking to me and would like to do it again that night.

And so be it. He called again Wednesday evening, and we talked for another hour. He sounds super cute. Very nice voice. Definitely intelligent. Friendly for sure.

But? No mention of meeting.

Hmm.

Holy Smokes, Batman!

2006-07-31T18:10:00.000-07:00

It's time to play Guess What Happened to Sandra Dee Today!

Did she:

A. Make out with a random stranger?

B. Come into work totally hung over?

C. Go on a really bad date?

or

D. Gather all her crap together as she watched her apartment complex burn down?

If you guessed D, you're correct! Tell them what they've won, Rob!

Well, okay. So it didn't burn down, but the 75 foot flames were blazing through 180 acres of a golf course that's about an eighth of a mile south of my home.

And they were telling the apartment residents to evacuate the premises. It was moving toward the complex.

Awesome.

Soooooo. Yeahhhhh. I got a phone call from my Mom at work about it -- and she never calls me at work. I hung up and mentioned it to my boss. "Go home!" she said. I was about halfway there, and I could see the smoke billowing up and blowing everywhere.

I exited off the interstate and pulled up to the entrance to the apartment complex. Cops and firemen were everywhere, but I could still get to my building.

Sprinting up the stairs, I mentally went through where my file box was, my irreplaceable jewelry, and other valuables. I threw open the door, grabbed and bag and started throwing stuff in it. And, according to the news, so were my neighbors.

After I stuffed the valuables into my car and called Mom to let her know I was okay, I called my cousin who lives down the street from me. I asked her if I could come hang out until the flames and smoke died down. She said she would be glad to have me. She and I watched the breaking news about the incident, chatted and then decided to go to dinner, Jimmy Buffet style.

I came back to the complex about three hours later. The smoke had cleared, and the fire was out. Nothing had touched my building, but some of the other buildings were covered black. Yuck.

At least no one was hurt.

Gah. My friends say my life could be a soap opera.

Busy Sunday and the Real World

2006-07-23T18:22:00.000-07:00

As you may or may not have noticed, we've got a new look going on here at Sandra Dee Dates. Hope y'all like it. I wanted something a bit more ... I dunno ... girlie. Which, contrary to my sidebar references to farthing and eating peanut butter out of a jar, I am rather girlie.

SO. This weekend was rather uneventful, which was just what this tired girl needed after a busy week full of work, socializing and gym frequenting.

Heh. Then came Sunday. Jam packed full of a wedding shower and a work commitment.

With every intention of attending church and the new Bible study that I've been enjoying so much, I just didn't think I could squeeze it in before the wedding shower for a sorority sister.

Time out. Let's talk about all of the people I know who are getting married this year.

Nineteen.

Ahem. Let me repeat that. I don't think those in back heard.

NINETEEN. PEOPLE. GETTING. MARRIED. THIS. YEAR.

I'm not going to all of the ceremonies, and some of them I don't even know well enough to figure out a really good gift for 'em. But that's a heck of a lot of friends to be gettin' hitched in one year.

Now don't get me wrong. I love me a good wedding. Chatting with old friends, eating divine food, and dancing the night away. And an open bar makes it all that much better.

I guess it just hasn't sunk in yet that I'm old enough for this to all be happening. Yikes! And to think that one day it might be me?! Double yikes! Not to mention the fact that my coworker, who has been married for two years now and is one year older than I am, is building a house with her doctor husband. Triple yikes! What happened to the keggers, cold pizza, crap-hole apartments and scrounging the car for loose change?!

The life that once surrounded me in the college world has been replaced with a real world full of weddings, houses, bigger paychecks, babies and IRAs. WTF?!

But I digress.

The wedding shower was adorable -- it was a scrapbook party! -- but I had to skeedattle half-an-hour into the whole shin dig. I had to go to a baseball game for work.

Yes. I got paid to go to a baseball game, man a booth full of our promotional items and promote tourism in my state. I freakin' love my job.

I left the game four hours later, sweaty and hot, tired and worn out. But my boss gave me tomorrow morning off, so I'm looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow.

After a long hot shower, I am listening to some beautiful Nellie McKay and am ready for dinner.

Now. Where's that cold pizza...

*edit* I HATE Blogger spellcheck! It doesn't even recognize "sidebar" or "girlie." Sigh.

Taking a Break

2006-07-20T08:05:00.000-07:00

After Round 2 with this guy, I think it might be time to take a break from dating. Or at least of the online variety.

Ugh. The date was awful. I just wanted to go home. I wanted to sit in front of my tv, watch bad television, and pop popcorn.

He paid for dinner, but when it came to the movie, he said, "Why don't you pick up the tab on this?" This is the second date people. Call my old-fashioned, and I don't mind paying for a date every once in while with someone that I'm serious with, but come on!

Not only that, but he made it clear last night that he is ready to settle down and have kids.

Eeeek!

In other news, I'm not over Sixty yet. I know, I know, I know. I thought I could do it and just move on, but I just think about him too much. I know I loved him, and that's hard for me to do with someone. It's just hard to understand that the love just wasn't reciprocated.

Oh yeah. Did I not tell you that?

He informed me that he couldn't love me and could never marry me, so why waste both of our times?

I give up. I'm becoming a nun.

Bobby Flay is a Freakin' Hottie and Other Things I Learned This Weekend

2006-07-18T18:48:00.000-07:00

1. I would have Bobby Flay's children. Saturday morning's Food Network programming was a revelation. That man is gorgeous. A total Boy Next Door, a fabulous cook aaaaaand he has amazing arms. Yummy.

2. There is nothing wrong with my wanting to spend Friday evening cooped up alone in my apartment. There is something wrong, however, with my thinking that The Prince and Me 2 might be a good movie rental for the occasion. Eww.

3. Engaged, married, emotionally unavailable and gay men should all stand on one side of the bar while the completely and totally single ones stand on the other. This way I won't have to spend half an hour trying to get to know you and then find out that have a fiancee. Gah.

4. If you have huge boobs, I don't wanna see 'em. And, quite frankly, neither does anyone else for that matter. Well, except maybe the dirty old men. But besides, I'm a little bitter because of my poor little B babies. Don't laugh.

5. The mall is the best form of birth control. I almost had to tell a woman to take her screaming child from the dressing room. Not because the kid was annoying the crap out of me. But because I was going flippin' deaf.

6. I don't have to be afraid of doing things by myself. I went to the Bible study where I didn't know anyone. I went to a restaurant to eat dinner alone. I think that's a step in the right direction.

7. Apparently waiting behind a vehicle that's backing up and getting ready to vacate it's parking spot and turning your turn signal on to notify others that you in fact want that parking space does not entitle you to said parking space. This was evidenced by another man who was waiting for my parking space as he proceeded to roll his window down and yell at me. "Does that make you feel better about yourself now, missy?!" MY TURN SIGNAL WAS ON YOU ASS HAT.

8. My friends and I aren't allowed to grow up. They're all getting married and having babies, and I'm still busy dating Mr. Wrong and fighting bachelorism. I'm not old enough for all this grown up talk yet!

How were your weekends?

Pleasantly Surprised

2006-07-14T07:16:00.000-07:00

Sitting at home, I contemplated not even going to meet the guy for drinks. His e-mails had been rather ho hum-ish and downright boring. But I told myself that you can never judge a guy's personality from his e-mails, so I convinced myself to keep an open mind.

The bottom line: I hate first dates, and I think I was looking for an excuse. Ugh.

So I got there, showed my ID, and walked around looking for him. I had actually been early (a rarity for me), and it looked like he wasn't there yet. So I stayed by the door and waited for him.

Then I saw him in the parking lot through the window. A little thin on top and with a full beard, he was really cute.

"Are you Sandra Dee?" he asked as he walked through the door, and I answered with a yes. We shook hands. And he shook mine how a man is supposed to shake a woman's hand -- not all gruff like between men.

Yes. I notice things like this.

Anyway. The waitress asked if we wanted menus -- we did -- and escorted us away to a nice table. We ordered drinks and and appetizer, then proceeded to talk on and on and on.

Now usually, I am the one on dates asking all of the questions. This time? We hardly talked about him because he was asking me a ton of questions. What an unusual, refreshing change.

However, he couldn't sit still. Moving around in the booth the whole time. Now maybe he was just nervous. Maybe it wasn't like this all the time. Because frankly? It was rather distracting. But that's what second and third dates are for though, right? I'm sure it was just nerves.

Two and a half hours later, we decided to call it a night, but agreed to do it again soon. We exchanged phone numbers and walked out, still engrossed in conversation. I'd say that's a pretty good sign that we'll have plenty to talk about next time around, too!

During my girls night last night at the bar, I opted not to bring it up the date to them. Is that weird? I dunno. I just don't want to talk to anyone about this in case it doesn't work out.

This weekend brings lounging by the pool, hitting the bars with a friend, and catching up on chick flick DVDs that I haven't seen yet. And Sunday is the Bible study at the church I've been wanting to try.

Hooray for life.

Quickie

2006-07-12T14:54:00.000-07:00

Not that kind of quickie, you sickos. A quickie post. Geez.

Wanted to tell you all something before I headed out the door from work. I am meeting another gentleman for drinks at 7 at one of my favorite bars: Fox and Hound. I know quite a bit about him from our e-mails, but we have yet to speak on the phone. In fact, come to think of it, I don't think he even has my phone number.

Anywho. He is 29 -- a little old for me, but I'm mature enough to handle it -- and works in radiology.

Let's cross our fingers that he doesn't bring up his mother.

Gah.

Underwear Dancing

2006-07-10T19:24:00.000-07:00

What an adventure today was.

After a deliciously wonderful shower, I started my fabulous day by blasting Express Yourself, Do Ya and Long Cool Woman from my computer and dancing around my living room in my underwear.

Ya. I said it.

After picking out a quite flattering and damn cute outfit, I stepped into my adorable gold sandals and headed out to work. Where, may I add, I kicked ass and took names. I knocked out about three projects -- all before noon.

But it was lunchtime that I was really looking forward to. It brought the excitement of meeting new people at a lunch group that I was attending for the first time. I am always nervous about going someplace where I don't know anyone, but I didn't have anything to worry about, as the group leader immediately introduced herself to me when I got there. And I truly enjoyed everyone there. And the potential of what the new group could become excites me. I even was invited to attend a Bible study on Sunday with one of the attendees.

Did I mention that the cute guy from the gym that I had been eyeing since I started going there happened to be at this meeting, too? I'll have to say something to him the next time I see him.

The afternoon consisted of more ass kicking and name taking. I even stayed late in order to tidy up my desk.

As for my dating life? I have finalized plans for meeting one guy for a drink on Wednesday, and I am still waiting to hear back via e-mail about dinner plans with another dude for tomorrow. I am again keeping my expectations to a minimum, but I have to admit that I'm really excited about the possibility of hitting if off with the one for tomorrow night. That is, if I even hear back from him in time.

Who knows.

The evening was spent skipping my workout session, against my better judgment. I know, I know. I should have gone just to see if Cute Gym Boy was there after our meeting, but I had to buy groceries!

Well. That, and hurry home to dance around some more in my underwear.

Why I Won't Be Going Out With Him Again

2006-07-08T13:24:00.000-07:00

1. Zero chemistry.

2. He talked about how if I played my cards right, I'd get to go to his tailgate party in the fall.

3. He brought up my meeting HIS MOM.

NEXT!

Date Night Tomorrow

2006-07-05T18:11:00.000-07:00

Because y'all are probably tired of reading all about how wonderful everyone's weekend was, I'm not going to blog about that.

Instead, I'm going to preview my date for tomorrow night.

He and I spent last week exchanging several lively and fun e-mails back and forth, and from what I gather, it sounds like we won't be lacking in the conversation department.

Did I mention he works at the capitol? Did I metion he loves sports? And went to the same university I did? And was the same major I was?

I'm excited to meet him. But I'm trying to go in without any expectations. From on paper to in person, there's a lot to leave to the imagination.

Besides, he needs a nickname, and I'll know better what to call him when I meet 'im.

I have something cute picked out. Cute green shirt, matching green beads, slim jeans, gold sandals, and matching gold purse.

We're grabbing dinner at a cute burger restaurant by my house. Yummy.

Update when I return. Happy 5th of July!

A New Chapter

2006-06-29T14:42:00.000-07:00

Hooray for the long weekend!

Taking tomorrow off work. I haven't had time off in a friggin' long ass time. I'm pumped. Leaving tonight for my family's for Friday through Sunday. Monday and Tuesday, house sitting with a friend of mine - in a house with a pool! - then downtown for the Fourth of July celebration.

I'm totally stoked. Aaaaand I heard back from the singles group leader at this church I've been wanting to try. He told me about all of the awesome things that the group is doing, and I can't wait to be a part of it. Woohoo.

And it looks like I might be fitting a date in next week, too.

I know, I know. I don't want to hear it, Moms and Dads. I haven't cried once since the night Sixty and I broke up. I really have a peace about this entire thing with him. And I think the healthiest thing for me to do is to get back out there again.

So there.

The dude I'm going out with? Graduated from the same university I did. We both go to all of the school's football and basketball games. He and I both have the same degree. And if nothing else, we'll end up as friends.

Speaking of ending up as friends, Sixty came by with some of my things yesterday. We had a nice conversation about stupid stuff, laughed and joked like we always did, and he gave me a hug as he left. The weirdest part? I know we're going to be really good friends.

And that's the only closure I need.

I'm ready for a new chapter in my life, kiddies.

Alllmond Joys Got Nuts. Mounds Don't.

2006-06-28T08:58:00.000-07:00

It is 10 o'clock in the morning, and I am sitting here at my desk eating an Almond Joy.

I have no shame in this.

My weekend was spectacular and just what I needed. The rendez-vous with my friends had been planned long in advance of Sixty and mine's breakup, but it seemed to come just at the right time.

Thursday night - yes, the day after my breakup - I partook in a well-needed Girls Night with my city friends Megan and Lauren. We had a blast. The best part was that I hadn't had much to eat all day, so I was a pretty cheap drunk!

I left for my hometown Friday night, and I didn't even take time to change out of my work clothes. Halfway to town - and also where most of my college-aged friends still go to school - I get word that we are hitting the bars. Even though I don't look appropriate in my suit pants and collared shirt, I agree to go. And we had a blast. (May I add that I had two men hit on me while we were there? Granted, they were drunk, but it was still a self-confidence booster!)

We finished the night on the floor of my friends' kitchen, eating mac and cheese, and laughing uncontrollably.

Saturday was a repeat of Friday, with the exception of dinner at our favorite restaurant. We had two huge tables full of 20 hot girls!

Sunday came pretty early, but it was well worth it. 7:30 in the morning, we left for our Float Trip down the Illinois River. Two huge coolers of beer and snacks, the wilderness, and 15 of my closest friends, it was everything I needed and more! And I didn't even get sunburned. Fabulous.

In other news, Sixty is coming by tonight to return some things that I still had at his house. This will be the first time I have spoken to him since the breakup. Dum dum dum. Actually? I'm fine with it. I cried a little after he left and then more the next day, but that was about it. I actually said I wanted to be friends with him, ironically enough. And he said he did, too.

So anyway. I'm jumping in with both feet and moving on. I've put my feelers out for a good singles group at a couple of churches - but just to meet some people my own age with my same beliefs. Wouldn't that be healthy?

Life is good. So good, in fact, that I think I'll have another almond joy...

MySpace Official Question

2006-06-25T18:11:00.000-07:00

The comments are back on. I'm not blogging about any details -- except for the fact that he bawled like a baby and took the breakup even harder than I did.

I know. Kinda funny, huh.

Anyway, thanks so much for all of the sweet e-mails.

A great time with my girls this weekend. Update on that tomorrow.

But in related news? While I changed mine the very next day, his MySpace claims we're still official. I've been watching his page like a hawk this weekend, and he's been online every day since the breakup. He's had pllllenty of time to check the "single" box. Aaaaand remove me as his number one friend.

Please tell me this doesn't mean what I think it means.

*UPDATE*: He's changed it. Amen to that.

Over.

2006-06-22T09:27:00.000-07:00

The seemingly wonderful fairy tale of Sandra Dee and Sixty is over.

I just feel like a fool. He said he wanted to break up even before he had his surgery.

I'm turning the comments off. I need time.

I love y'all. Thanks.

Three months?! Already?!

2006-06-19T08:40:00.000-07:00

What will we be doing tomorrow to celebrate, you ask? I have no idea.

He'll probably forget.

I'm kidding, but it wouldn't surprise me. Besides, three months isn't as big of a deal as six months is, so I'm not holding my breath.

Speaking of surprises, on Friday, I surprised him by planning a date. To kick off the evening, I had gotten him a few shirts from the Gap that he likes. I couldn't wait to give them to him, and I made him close his eyes and everything. He loved them and couldn't believe that I had gotten him something for no reason.

Then we went to dinner, where I picked up the tab.

Finally it was off for his big surprise. Nacho Libre.

He's been talking about seeing this flick for weeks. Weeks, people. I practically had it down in my calendar of when it opened in the theatres. "Don't get me wrong," he said after he found out that I was taking him to see the movie, "but I was kinda upset when you said you had this surprise planned for me tonight. I really had been wanting to go see Nacho Libre." Duh. How could I forget?!

I was skeptical because the reviews weren't that great, but I love Jack Black so I kept an open mind.

Well I am here to tell you readers - never fear. It's hilarious. If you liked Napoleon Dynomite, you'll love it. And it was totally Sixty and mine's kind of movie. I found myself laughing at parts that probably weren't even supposed to be funny. It was a pretty wholesome theme, too.

A couple of drinks down the street from the theatre, some cuddling at my place afterwards, and I'd say you could call it a supurb date night.

But just spending time with him is enough. Who cares if we don't do anything special tomorrow?

Interruption

2006-06-15T16:06:00.000-07:00

As you might have noticed, I added and updated a few links to my blogroll on the right.

Don't see yours? Send me an e-mail, and I'll get 'er up there.

We now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

Sixty? Meet my mom. Oh wait. You're bleeding.

2006-06-13T07:11:00.000-07:00

I'm sure y'all wanna know how it went with Sixty meeting my mother on Sunday.

The plan was to meet at my house, head to Spaghetti Warehouse for dinner, then back to my place for dessert.

Now - my mom's my best friend. I have told her pretty much everything about Sixty. And from what I have told her, she likes him. She just wants to meet the dude in person. You know. Size him up a bit. Just kidding, but you know what I mean.

So 4:30 came along and everyone showed up. Mom actually got there before Sixty did, and she asked if she could open the door. I said sure; he would get a kick out of it. So a knock on the door, and she went to open it. "Yes?" she said, acting like she didn't know who he was. He laughed and they shook hands. What a fun way to break the ice.

We sat and chatted for a while, and I could tell Sixty was nervous. I kept prompting him with "tell her about this" lines, and he would run with them. He's so modest that he would never brag about himself on his own, but I'm proud of his accomplishments, and this was a good opportunity to share all that he's done. (He was in the Navy right out of high school, lived in some fabulous places, and learned some super skills. Now he's got a stellar job because of those experiences.) Regardless, I could still tell he was nervous.

My stomach was making obscene noises, so I suggested we get outta there before I ate my right arm. We gathered our things and headed out. I opened the door, and remembered my trash had been sitting on the front porch, needing to be taken out. I no more than said "Oh, I need to take that to the dumpster," when Sixty had already picked it up and was headed to throw it out. What a sweetheart.

He also offered to chauffeur us to dinner in my car. A smile spread across Mom's face.

He pulled up the restaurant, offering to drop us off while he found a parking spot.

Needless to say, Mom thought he was quite the gentleman.

After we ordered (Sixty getting the least expensive meal on the menu), we munched on salad and bread. But this wasn't any old bread - it was tough, crusty French bread. Sixty reached to saw a piece off for himself.

He quickly dropped the knife, grabbed his finger with his other hand, and said "Dammit!"

Instantly, he winced - not because he had sliced his finger open - but because he just swore in front of my mother.

Mom, not knowing what was going on or why he had sworn, said "What happened?" Sixty pulled his hand from his wound.

"Shit!" Mom said, instantly wincing as well. I died laughing.

"See?" I grinned, looking at Sixty. "We're not all prim and proper around here." I hopped up to ask the waitress for a bandage. She quickly went to get one.

Dinner was delicious. We talked about online dating, and some of my mother's experiences with Match.com. (She was the one who inspired me to try it.) I was the first one that Sixty had met from the site, so he was entertained with stories about Mom's doozies that she'd gone out with.

We walked to the car, climbed in, and Sixty says "Sandra? Do you have any Pepto Bismol at your house?" I didn't. "Okay then. I'm going to drop you two off at your apartment and go to the drug store."

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Well," he said, loud enough for Mom to hear, too, "I've been so nervous that my stomach is really upset."

Poor kid. We got to my apartment, and he said "Wait. I think I have some medicine in my truck. I'll be back," and he headed to where he had parked. He took a couple of tablets, and said he would be fine in a little bit.

And he must have been okay because he certainly didn't have any problems finishing off the dessert I made. I have to say, it was rather delicious.

All in all, it was fun. Mom - who isn't big on giving hugs - even gave Sixty a hug right before she left. I watched as his face just lit up.

Sixty told me after she left, "Wow. She was cool! I liked her."

She liked him, too.

Distracted

2006-06-09T12:46:00.000-07:00

Dear Boss Lady:

I must confess something. When I am at work, I work. I do. I get my job done and do so in a timely manner.

However, a few things are getting in the way of my working at maximum capacity at present. Please allow me to elaborate.

1. My Bloglines Account. I currently subscribe to over 80 blogs. It has been a routine to read blog entries for my first half hour at work ever since I worked at IGSHPA. (Yes, I worked with heat pumps. Please pull your jaw up off the floor.) And everyone knows I don't like change, so I can't stop now. It's part of my daily routine.

2. MySpace. I just recently latched on to this obsession. And I need therapy now because of it. I spent way too much time the other day looking at people I went to high school with that I haven't seen or talked to in 5 years. And - of course - I had to add them as my friend.

3. Facebook. Where do you think the MySpace obsession stemmed from? Duh.

4. This Damn Blog. Blogging is my release. I'm happy and healthier for it. And if a blog-worthy thought happens to come to me at work, then who am I to tell it no?

5. My E-mail. I think I checked it about 13 times already today. In fact, somedays I keep it minimized on my computer screen. It's just easier.

So, dearest Boss Lady, my apologies if you need me to complete an urgent project today. I'm waaaaay too busy reading blogs and racking up my online friend lists.

Come back tomorrow.

Sincerely,
Sandra Dee

Getting Out of the Funk

2006-06-07T07:17:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't been updating much. I just haven't been inspired to write lately.

Call it a funk. I dunno.

So I've had some requests to write about Sixty. What can I say? It's the same 'ole, same 'ole, except for the fact that we've been seeing much more of one another lately - about three times a week - which is to be par for a relationship course though, I suppose. Here are some snippets.

I came to pick him up a couple of weekend ago after his surgery, and I spent the night at his parents house - a big step for me - to meet his brother and his dad. Both men are very nice, and by meeting his dad I can see where Sixty gets many of his characteristics from.
Sixty's family and I have met up about three times now, and he hasn't so much as seen a picture of my mother yet. So I set some stuff in stone for Sunday night when Mom is travelling up here to meet us for dinner. Update on that later.
He and I are appoaching the three-month mark come June 20. That seems hard to believe that its been that long.

What a boring ass post. Sorry y'all. I'll work on getting out of the funk.

Heh. That sounded dirty.

Five Things

2006-06-01T09:10:00.000-07:00

Thanks, Grins.

Five Items in My Fridge:

Cereal. Yes, I keep cereal in my fridge. Stop your laughing. I know I'm weird. But because I live by myself, it certainly stays fresher.
Oreos. I have to have a little bit of junk food every now and then.
Aloe. It's summertime, and we all know what that means for the fair-skinned maidens such as myself. Sunburns!
Grapes. Yuuuuuummy.
Calcium fortified orange juice. Four out of five doctors say it helps with the prevention of osteoporosis. The fifth doctor just recommends it because it tastes good, damn it.

Five Items in My Closet:

My gym bag. Filled with my smelly gym shoes from Tuesday. Ew.
A completely empty shelf. It used to house my old t-shirts, but I cleaned it off last weekend. The t-shirts now have a lovely home in my dresser drawers.
Shoes. What's a closet without these lovely ladies?
Too many clothes. At least I'll never be able to say "I don't have anything to wear!"
Two big boxes of purses. To match my shoes and too many clothes.

Five Items in My Car:

My iPod: Complete with my iTrip and AC adaptor.
A sun shade for my windshield: For those hot summer months when you could fry an egg on my dashboard.
An umbrella. You can never be too prepared.
My planner. Which, come to think of it, I really need to go fetch since I'm at work.
Sunglasses. Super handy when I'm driving.

Five Items in My Purse:

Cell phone. Gaw. I would die without this thing.
Wallet. Out of which, I recently lost my debit card. I know, I know. I called and cancelled it, and nothing out of the ordinary was found being purchased with it.
Rape whistle. You think I'm kidding? It's on my keychain. In case - well, you know - I get raped in the parking lot.
Business cards. Never know when these will come in handy.
Clinique lipstick. Only the best for this diva.

Tag. You're it:

Clint
Jeff
Okie
Kelly
Eternal Frosh

Whatcha gonna do? Spank my bun?

2006-05-30T18:39:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-25T11:52:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-21T15:37:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-21T12:06:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-05-17T07:08:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-05-16T18:11:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-11T12:00:00.001-07:00

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

2006-05-09T19:04:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-04T09:17:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-05-01T20:39:00.000-07:00

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?

The Talk

2006-04-27T18:48:00.000-07:00

And now? As promised.

The Talk.

Spending the majority of the weekend with Sixty, I was really looking forward to spending the evening by myself on Monday. I had worked late, worked out, and even had to bring work home with me. The combination of all of that screamed "I need alone time," and I was actually excited about a night by myself.

After peeling off my sweaty gym clothes, showering and dressing, I was ready to get to work in front of the computer. As I was gathering my things, I looked at my phone and saw that Sixty had called and left a message.

"Hey, Sandra Dee. It's Sixty. I was hoping to maybe see you for 30 minutes or so tonight. I had an awful day today and just wanted someone to talk with about it. Okay. Call me back."

Oh boy. The sensitive Momish-side of me said: "Poor thing! Whatever I can do to help, I'll do." The selfish, I-need-my-space-side of me said: "Dammit. I have work to do, and I just spent most of my weekend with him. He can get over it."

And as most of you can guess? I'm too nice. The Mom side in me won. Sigh. My name's not goodie-two-shoes Sandra Dee for nothin'.

So I called him back and told him that he was more than welcome to come over, but he really was going to have to leave after that because I had lots of work to do for that week. He totally understood, but rushed over.

We sat on the couch, and maaaaaan. He did have a pretty crappy day. And bless his heart. He even teared up a little over it. Talk about feeling awful for thinking about not calling him back.

Sitting on the couch for a bit, I finally told him I had to get my work done, but that he was welcome to stay and watch TV - he doesn't have cable - and I felt awful about pushing him out. He took me up on that, and I started pecking away at my work in my bedroom.

About an hour later, I was almost finished, but not quite. I got up and started fiddling around in the kitchen. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Making you some brownies," I said. Come on. Who doesn't love brownies after they've had a bad day? He said no one had ever done anything like that for him before. (You thought I was kidding about the Mom comment earlier? My friends even make fun of me for being like a mom with them. Seriously.)

I went back to typing. After the timer for the brownies went off, I decided to call it a night with the work. Besides, it wasn't very nice to leave Sixty out in the living room, by himself, after having such a crap-ass day. I wouldn't want that if I were him. So I came out and layed down on top of his chest.

We layed there for a bit, then I remembered that earlier in the day, I noticed that Sixty had hidden his Match.com profile. Hmmm.

"So I saw today that you hid your Match profile," I said. "What's up with that?" Looooooong pause. Crap.

"I did it because I don't want to date anyone else but you," he said.

Another long pause. My heart skipped a beat, and I got those little butterflies in my tummy. I wasn't really sure what to say next.

"Oh. Okay." Why did I say that?! Why am I such an idiot?! I freakin' suck at this conversation. I started laughing, nervously.

"Um. Sorry," I said. "So, uh, does that, um, mean, that, uh, we're like, uh, boyfriend and girlfriend?" I am such a retard! Why do I have to be so awkward???

"Would you wear my class ring?" he said, in a mocking tone of voice, laughing. "Maybe wear my letter jacket? Yes. I would like you to be my girlfriend," he smiled.

I felt like we just had the lamest conversation ever. Seriously.

"That sounds great!" I said as I kissed him. YAY! I know what y'all are thinking. We haven't been dating very long and we're having The Talk. But you know what? I'm at a point in my life where I don't need to be having multiple dates and keeping my options open and all of that stuff. I've done that all before. And it's just not me.

I'm ready for a commitment. I haven't had one of those for a very long time. I'm ready to work at this. I'm ready to have someone constant in my life. Dating with a purpose. That's what he and I call it. And it's so true.

I couldn't be happier to have found this guy.

Anyway. He ate the brownies, said they were delish, and grabbed a glass of milk and a make-out session to wash them down with. What? Oh! Did I type that? Sorry. So I packed up the brownies and sent them home with him. On his way out the door, we talked about our plans for Saturday - where we have to chaperone a date party for my sorority. I'm pumped about it, and I hope he is, too. It should be fun.

I pushed him playfully out the door. "Bye, girlfriend," he said, grinning.

Ahhh, yes. I really like the sound of that.

The Friends

2006-04-25T19:35:00.000-07:00

Okay. Yeah. So we had "the talk."

I know. I know. I know. It's too soon. One month and we're having this important conversation. But I'll get there in a sec. First the "meet the friends" story.

Sixty knocks on the door, I open it, and I just about melted. He looked absolutely adorable -- searsucker pants, green button down shirt, brown loafers, and everything pressed. I just had the biggest grin on my face and was so excited about this evening.

I drove since I knew my way to town better, and we had a great time just talking and laughing the whole way there. He couldn't keep his hands off me while I was under the wheel, and I was loving it. We get to the OSU campus, and there is a football scrimmage at the same time as the concert. So we had to park about a mile away - literally - and I was wearing heels. Ugh. Talk about blisters! I thought I was going to die. Not to mention that it was about 90 million degrees outside, and I was sweating like a mo' fo'.

We get to the arena, and the first person I see is Clint. We chatted for a bit, and then I headed up to the stands to see the girls, who had saved us some seats. But the seats were at the end of the row, so we had to pass quite a few people before we got there. However, that gave me a perfect opportunity to introduce him as I walked across. I get to my friend Annie first.

"Annie? This is Sixty. Sixty? Annie."

He gives her a fist pound.

Everyone died laughing. I thought I was going to split a gut. It was really funny. Anyway, so we get to our seats, and again -- arm over me, hand on my leg, holding my hand. It was almost like "Hey world. She's with me." And I loved it!! The best part was that he enjoyed himself with all of the talented shows that we saw.

After the show - where my sorority won best costumes! - we went down on the floor to meet the girls that were in the show. I got bombarded with hugs from the girls, and then I realized I was totally leaving Sixty behind. How humiliating. He looked like he had no idea what to do. I grabbed his hand and just started introducing him to people, and I hoped that helped him feel a little more at ease. He told me later how much he appreciated my recognizing that I was leaving him to his lonesome.

We ate dinner with Na'Cole - she loved him - and then hung out at the house for a little bit in the TV room - again, not being able to keep his hands to himself. I think this guy has a bad, and MAN - I am way into him, too. We drive back home, and he asked if he can come in for some water. Whatever. We all know what went down after that.

Okay. I've got to hit the sack, so here's the deal. If y'all leave me lots of comments? I'll find time during my day tomorrow to write about The Talk. Deal?

Deal.

Go.

Meeting the Friends

2006-04-22T13:29:00.000-07:00

Sixty just called and he's running late, so I thought I would jot down a quick post.

Drama at work. I don't want to go into details, but I seriously need to think about getting a new job. Some seriously horrible crap went down this week, and I think that it was just one more sign that I need to kick my job hunt into full gear.
Meaningful conversation with Sixty. He and I had a difficult conversation last night about how it is becoming increasingly hard to stop ourselves everytime we make out. I had to tell him I was - brace yourselves - a virgin, and that I'm saving myself for marriage. I was worried that would scare him off. It didn't - biiiiig sigh - and he added that he doesn't want to ruin what we've got just because we're in the heat of the momment. He's so polite and respectful.
Thursday night with the girls. We went to a big schmooze fest called the Governor's Cup, and rubbed elbows with the First Lady herself. It was super - $75 tickets - but we got in for free. Dinner was divine: steak, shrimp, potatoes, aaaaaand an open bar. Doesn't get any better than that, my friends.
Speaking of friends. Sixty is meeting my friends tonight at Spring Sing. I couldn't be more pumped. Hopefully they like him. I'm sure they will. He could talk to a brick wall.

Perfect timing. There he is at the door right now. Have a super weekend, everyone. Updates about the friend fest on Monday.

Two big huge gigantic brownie points

2006-04-18T11:26:00.000-07:00

Oh my. I hope this Sixty thing is going to work out, kiddies.

Because he just scored two big, huge, gigantic brownie points with me.

I got home about 5:15, pulled the two dishes out of the fridge, preheated the oven, and jumped in the shower. Just as I was toweling off, the phone rang. It was Sixty.

"Hey. I'm going to be late. I thought I could make 6, but it's going to be 6:30. Is that okay?"

"Take your time, Sixty. This thing cooks like an hour and a half and I haven't even put it in the oven yet. You're good. I'll just see you when I see you."

Umm, kids? Are you listening to me? Most guys just show up at my door and are like "oh - hey - I got attacked by wild bears and that's why I'm five hours late for our date," and then I'm pissed. I hate that. But this dude called. To tell me he was going to be late. So he got a brownie point for that.

So I finish getting the table set and the salads made. He got there about 15 minutes before the timer went off, and the second he walked in the door he said "Ooooo. What is that?! It smells delicious!" We chitchatted in the kitchen while I got water, and then I pulled out the curry chicken and rice casserole. He didn't say much until he ate it and then said "Is this curry? Curry is one of my favorite things ever." Me too. How funny.

He ate every bite - including his salad, part of my chicken, had more rice, and then said "That was a 10!" Then he mentioned that his dad had asked him this weekend if I could cook, and he told him he didn't know. I asked what he was going to answer with if his dad asked that again, and he said "ohhhh yeaaaaaah!!!" I laughed.

Just as I was getting up to put together some food for him to take home, he gets up and - are y'all ready for this? - starts doing the dishes for me.

Did you guys hear me? He. Did. The. Dishes. I just sat there and beamed. Another brownie point. This dude continues to impress me. And the thing that I loved? He did it because he genuinely wanted to - not expecting anything in return. "You cooked it. I'll clean up," he said.

Afterwards, we pretended to watch TV, but we talked more than watched. At one point he asked, "Are we dating?" And I said, "Sure! Why do you ask?"

"I was telling my friends about you, and they asked me if you and I were dating. I didn't really know what to tell them. I mean, we've been on dates, but I just wasn't sure."

"Sure we're dating," I laughed. "Maybe not necessarily exclusively, but yeah. We're dating." He just grinned and said "Do we need to talk about that?" I laughed and said not yet, but maybe in the near future.

I think this dude likes me. I hope he stays around for a while.

Dinner. And The Mom?

2006-04-17T11:14:00.000-07:00

Is it bad that I can't wait to see Sixty tonight?

Last weekend was spent with my family in the neighboring town, so I haven't seen the dude since last week. We hardly got to talk the whole time I was gone, but finally got a hold of each other on Saturday night.

"I was hoping you'd call!" he said. We talked about our days, and he mentioned that his father - who's a truck driver so he's on the road a lot - was in town that weekend, so he woke Sixty up that morning so the two of them could go to breakfast.

He said the two of them talked a lot about me. Gulp. I think that's a good sign.

Here's the other deal: Sixty is coming to Spring Sing next weekend. This event is when the fraternities and sororities at Oklahoma State pair up and put on a variety show to raise money for Coaches vs. Cancer. Oklahoma State is in my hometown, so Sixty will be meeting lots of my college friends that are still in school there.

We were talking about Spring Sing, and he asked if he would be meeting my mom while we were in town. Another gulp.

Hmmm. How do you all feel about him meeting The Mom? It's not even been a little over a month that we've been dating. I dunno. I guess if he is even giving thought to meeting her, then I guess that's a good sign? Do you guys think it's too soon?

Sigh. I'm so worried about screwing this up and I'm forgetting to have fun. I need to quit worrying, let go and let God.

Anyway, after my relaxing weekend at home, I hurried home on Sunday afternoon so I could begin getting ready for Sixty's arrival to my abode tonight.

And when I say "get ready," I don't mean that I tidied up the house. I mean that I made dinner. And I don't cook. At. All.

Curry chicken, rice casserole, and salad. I didn't have time to make dessert. Although I'm sure we can find other ways to occupy our mouths after dinner. Let's just hope he sticks around after he eats what I made!

I can't wait to see him.

The Rules of Sandra Dee's Blog

2006-04-11T10:49:00.000-07:00

The Rules of Sandra Dee's Blog

(and an update, of course)

1. Keep the filthy comments down. (Clint.)

2. Don't use my real name. That is to insure my privacy.

3. To friends who read this blog: I am bringing Sixty to Spring Sing on April 22. IF YOU MEET HIM, DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES MENTION THIS BLOG TO HIM OR REFER TO HIM AS SIXTY. He does not know about this blog, nor will he ever know as far as I'm concerned. I would pee my pants if he knew my innermost and personal thoughts about him via this blog. That would probably be the death of me. So, yeah, thanks.

On a lighter note, lemme update ya on Monday's date.

I had fully expected him to call on Sunday night to set things up, but he didn't. I was actually a little upset. He called Monday afternoon at work.

"How do you feel about chicken?" he said.

"What about it? I like it if that's what you're asking."

"I'm going to barbeque some for us. Is that okay?"

"Sounds awesome."

"What time should I expect you?" (So much better than the "why don't you get here at such-in-such time." I hate that.)

"Ummmm. Seven?"

"Great. See you then."

I got there at seven sharp and could smell the delicious charcoal when I walked in. He had a table on his back patio, and he said that we would be sitting outside. So I set the table. While gathering everything, I notice a big bag of something.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Oh. The liquor store owner recommended it. Some kind of chardonnay. I spent 30 minutes on my lunch break looking for a good one, but decided to give up and ask him."

Here I was thinking this outdoor barbeque was a whim, when that was the complete opposite. I am really enjoying the fact that the dude always has a plan in mind. That is so refreshing.

So we eat outside - with a citronella candle so we wouldn't get eaten by bugs - and I drank waaaaay too much of the said wine. I apologized for being completely buzzed, and he didn't have any idea what I was talking about. I was falling all over myself here people! How unladylike. Anyway, it was kindof fun because my inhabitions were completely gone by that point. We sat outside and enjoyed the delightful evening, talking away.

I think I could watch paint dry with this guy, and I would still enjoy it.

We cleaned up, plopped down on the couch, and decided to skip the movie and just make out instead. I mean, come on. Who were we kidding?!

And. Well. I'm blushing here, but let's just say it's becoming increasingly hard to keep our hands to ourselves.

He walked me out to my car, and I informed him that I would be going out of town for the rest of the week on vacation slash my grandmother's surgery slash Easter slash hiatis from work slash whatever. He wanted to know when he could see me again. Next Monday sounds good, I said.

Prepare yourselves for another update at that time. As for my vacation, I'm starting it today. Back to sleep I go...

Weekend Update

2006-04-09T12:29:00.000-07:00

Well it's not a la Tina Fey and Jimmy Fallon, but Sandra Dee can be just as interesting, right?

Right.

Sixty and I had made plans to get together Saturday afternoon for a trip to the museum. But with everything I needed to do this weekend, I wanted to use Saturday afternoon to accomplish it all. So I cancelled, but I suggested Friday night instead. He thought that was fine.

We headed to Buffalo Wild Wings for some tasty chicken and burrrrr and even caught a little bit of the Hornets game while we were there. It had turned cold so we decided on the Incredible Pizza down the street. This place was amazing - go karts, minature golf, arcade games, bumper cars, bowling - all indoors! I had so much fun. After a round of mini golf, go karts, air hockey and skeeball - you like that Jeff? - we collected our prizes and decided to peace out.

He drove home, pulled into his driveway and asked if I wanted to come inside.

Um. Duh.

We talked on the couch for a while, I got to meet his roommate and girlfriend, then we discussed what movie to watch.

Ahem. Let's just say we didn't do much watching of the movie.

Although - let's get one thing straight here, kids. He was nothing but a perfect gentleman. I totally love that. Any other guy would have his hands down my pants or up my shirt by this point. He even was holding my hand with his arm laying between my boobs and was like "Oh - sorry - is this uncomfortable for you?" I really appreciate that.

So we're just laying there on the couch, and after a long batch of silence, he says to me: "Sandra Dee? I like you."

I didn't know what to say. I just sat there in shock. Don't misunderstand, I like him too, but I guess I'm not ready to admit it to him yet. I'm trying desperately to keep my emotions in check. In the past, I've gotten to the point where I'm been so into a guy that I've forgotten my name, and I just can't do that again. It hurts too badly when the bottom drops out. I just don't want to screw this up -- since I think I could see myself with this guy for a while.

What I did say was that I was looking forward to getting to know him better. I hope that wasn't too cold. I dunno. I just don't want to get hurt.

Saturday night was a blast. My girlfriends and I went to celebrate our friend AD's birthday with her family at Eischen's Chicken. This restaurant was standing room only, and we had to seat 16 people around an eight person table, but maaaaaan was it worth it. I think that's the most delicious fried chicken I have ever eaten. Then Sunday, AD's dad had made a giganitc vat of spaghetti and meatballs, so I was invited over for lunch. And it was yummy.

That's about all I've got for ya. Sixty and I have made plans for tonight, and I haven't talked to him since Friday, which is unbelievably healthy for me. I like my space. I don't know what we'll be doing, but whatever it is, I know we'll have fun.

I didn't want to wash my hair this morning.

2006-04-06T08:00:00.000-07:00

Date numero three with Sixty last night. Hold on to your hats, kiddos. This one's a long one. Don't say I didn't warn you!

Sixty was making stew and wondered if I wanted to come over and have some with him last night. We planned it rather spontaneously - which I know is never good because that is making myself too available. However, I didn't have other plans so I agreed.

I raced home, beautified my fabulous self, grabbed a bottle of wine - I felt I should bring something - and was on his doorstep by 6:20.

And oh my, did he smell good. And looked adorable, I must add. He's trying so hard. How cute.

I stepped in, and saw what an adorable - adorable - house he had. Hard wood floors, new cabinets, great floor plan. I couldn't get over how nice it was. He told me it was in a neighborhood full of gay people, but that he didn't mind. "They give me lots of good gardening tips," he said, laughing. "Their lawns are immaculate."

Dinner was good, although I was super nervous. I don't think he could tell, but I just kept sipping my wine, hoping that would help. I think he was nervous, too because he lost his train of thought about three times, and then just started laughing after doing so. How cute.

I offered to help him clean up, but he wouldn't hear of it, so I suggested we take a walk. I knew he liked being outside, and besides, it was a gorgeous night. He thought that sounded wonderful. We took off. At one point I grabbed a hold of his arm in the middle of him telling a story, and he just stuttered and stammered. I was flustering him! Gosh. I have a bad thing for guys who don't have any game.

At one point, we passed a church. I talked to him about how I hadn't been attending mine on a regular basis because I don't like going by myself, and he said, "Well I'm going to be staying in town this weekend, so we could possible go to church on Sunday..." and he paused. He and I simultaneously said "...together" and laughed. What a great guy. He also mentioned that he wanted to take me to the museum here in town. So that's two more planned dates.

We got back, and, since it was early, decided to pop in a movie. Before we did, he mentioned that he had lots of missed calls from his family, so I told him it was fine if he called them back; I didn't mind waiting. While he was on the back porch, I looked through his movies and books. Three-fourths of the books were faith-based books - but I noticed the two Christian dating books, one of them being Boy Meets Girl by Joshua Harris. Let's just say that I could totally see myself with this guy.

So he comes in from being on the phone, and we start The Shawshank Redemption. About 20 minutes through it, for some reason, something prompted our quoting lines from Anchorman, one of our favorite movies. We were having so much fun quoting lines back and forth that we decided to pop in the said flick.

Partway through the movie, he reached over and took my hand. Later, he slipped his arm around me, but while he did, he asked it that was okay that he did that. I told him sure, but that I just hadn't made up my mind about him yet - kidding of course, but I said it with a totally serious face. He said, "Well. I've made up my mind about you." Gasp and sigh. I was totally getting all tingly over this man. The next thing I know, my head is laying on his leg, and he's playing with my hair. I love it when guys play with my hair.

While laying down, I was just about asleep, so I decided it was time to get going. He walked me to my car, gave me a big hug, and just held me for about a minute. It was so nice. I pulled away, and we just looked at one another. He leaned in for the kiss, but while he did, I kept moving my head ever so slightly back so that he had to keep leaning in to touch my lips. I finally laughed and gave in, and it was so nice.

We stood in his driveway kissing for what seemed like forever. I pulled away first, walked to my car to unlock it, laughed and said "I feel like a giddy teenager," and he laughed. I walked back to him for a few more pecks, and then he asked if we would be doing this again. I said, "No. I don't think so," and grinned. I got into the car, started to drive off, but noticed he was standing on his front porch, waiting for me to get out safely. How sweet.

I didn't want to wash my hair this morning. It smelled too much like him.

Men Whose Children I Would Have

2006-04-03T09:01:00.000-07:00

Sports Edition

I have decided to start a series of blogs about the men whom I find attractive. This one will be featuring sports related figures. Feel free to comment about my choices and add some of your own to the list. Enjoy!

Kirk Herbstreit

Pretty teeth. Great bod. And when he wears those glasses? Yeowch.

Quin Snyder

I realize he's an ass. I don't really care. He's tall, lanky and downright fiiiine.

Bob Stoops

I should absolutely hate this man since I am a die-hard Oklahoma State fan. But against my better judgement, I would totally get it on with this dude.

Pat Knight

You know. Bobby's son? I sat about 30 feet away from him at the last Oklahoma State game that I attended. It was all I could do to not shout "Marry me!"

Matt Leinart

He's too much of a pretty boy for me to actually date, but he wanted a romp in the sack, I ain't gonna deny 'im.

I don't know about y'all, but I'm getting hot and bothered just thinking about these dudes.

Cliffhangers and Advice

2006-04-03T08:17:00.000-07:00

I think I've recovered from the awful episode of this weekend. I didn't mean to be overdramatic in my last post and omit everything that happened. I just felt weird telling the blogging community all my personal biz-nazz.

And no. I wasn't raped. Good Lord, Clint.

Grumble. Anyway. Let me catch you up on my cliffhangers that I promised last week.

1. The Quadruple F-Bomb Dropper Who Asked Me Out: Several weeks ago, I winked at a guy whom I thought was very cute in his profile. He sent me an e-mail and said he wanted to talk on the phone. I sent my phone number. He called the next day.

Within the first 30 seconds of talking with him, I knew something was wrong.

He was drunk, people. Drunk. Who does this?

Not only that, but within about 10 minutes of the conversation, he dropped the f-bomb four times.

He then asked if I was free for drinks later in the week.

I told him I didn't think this was going to work out. What a first impression!

Did I mention he went to OU? Figures.

2. I Didn't Get Paid for My Time At Work Last Week: I shouldn't be blogging about work stuff. So I won't. If you're curious about this story, e-mail me.

In unrelated news, Sixty has not called me since our last date. He hasn't e-mailed either. Nor sent smoke signals or a carrier pigeon.

Do I sit tight? Or is he waiting for me to make the next move? Advice, bloggers?

Note to self.

2006-04-02T10:48:00.000-07:00

When you're not interested in someone, don't invite them in.

I'm not going to talk about my date with GuitarPlayer because what happened is just too personal.

What I am going to say is that I don't think I'll ever hear from him. Fine with me.

I thought he was a good guy.

Date #2 with Sixty

2006-03-31T06:50:00.000-08:00

I am giddy this morning. People. I don't get giddy.

Sixty picked me up about 7:45, sporting a very nice, full beard, a stylish pearl snap shirt, and jeans. The guy looked very good. Very rugged. And the fact that he drives a truck - I have a serious thing for guys in trucks - made me all excited.

We ventured to Marble Slab Creamery. And he paid. I know, I know, I know. I'll get the next one. Cups of ice cream in hand, we headed to the mall. Walked around. Joked. Laughed at people. We got on the topic of books, and come to find out that we both like to read. So after the mall, we headed to the Barnes and Noble down the street to look around. That was super fun. Just joking and laughing and being silly.

Back at the car, and he slyly mentioned the Cake song, Stick Shifts and Safety Belts and how he wished he didn't have bucket seats in his truck. Hmmm. I could get used to this kid.

We talked about maybe seeing a movie, but we felt it was kinda late for that, so I invited him over instead. While sitting on the couch together, we flipped between The Daily Show, Leno and Letterman. Right about the time Letterman was reading his Top 10 list, he asked if I wanted to hear his cheesiest pick up line ever. I laughed and said sure.

"Do you know it's the same distance from here" he points to my right shoulder "to here" he points to the right side of my neck "as it is from here" he points to the left side of my neck "to here?" and points to my left shoulder, now with his arm around me. I giggled and pushed him away playfully. This guy is great. I would have loved for that arm to stay around me, but it usually takes me several dates to feel like I'm ready for that. I know. I'm weird. I am really enjoying myself with him.

It got to be about 11:30 and I said it was probably past my bedtime. He laughed and said he didn't want to overstay his welcome, so he hopped up to leave. Being silly, he walked to the door and said "Okay, well, I'll see you around!" and grinned really big. I was being sarcastic and said "Good. Get out." We got a good laugh about that. He asked if he could give me a hug, and I said of course, we pulled away, and I asked coyly, "Are we going to do this again?"

"Um, well, I, uh, I certainly hope so," he studdered. "I mean, I, uh, I'm kinda starting to like ya."

I think I blushed about a thousand shades of red. I don't even remember what I said in response. I think I just giggled, pushed him playfully out the door, and said, "Have a good night."

I am giddy this morning. People. I don't get giddy.

P.S. While I was hanging out with Sixty, GuitarPlayer called - phone was off - so he had to leave a message. We are solidifying plans for Saturday. And my cliffhangers will have to wait. I have a meeting I've got to scoot to.

Miss Spontaneous ...

2006-03-30T14:32:00.000-08:00

... I am not. But I am today.

SixtyDollarTab called about 30 minutes ago. He knew it was late notice, but he wanted to know if I'd like to grab some ice cream and watch a movie tonight.

And normally I would be thinking that "watch a movie" translated into "foolin' around," but I don't think this guy is like that.

Praise Jesus.

No pun intended. I crack myself up. Anyway ...

I talked myself into going. I'm not spontaneous, but I guess I could make an exception for this nice man.

Now. What am I going to wear?

P.S. I promise an update on the date tomorrow and to give y'all the skinny on the cliffhangers from the last post.

So it sounds like I'm working.

2006-03-27T07:35:00.000-08:00

Because I can't work on a damned thing because our Web site at work is down, I'll update y'all on my life. You know. So it at least sounds like I'm working.

Date with GuitarPlayer. Saturday. Our first time meeting. Very nice. Kinda cute. Loads of personality. Tons in common. We moved things to dinner instead of lunch since I was still out of town at noon, played putt-putt - where he only beat me by two strokes - then headed over to this bar where we met up with some of his friends.

Yes. You heard me right. We met up with some of his friends. On the first date. It's okay. I was cool with it. His friends were fun.

He, on the other hand, was either very very nervous or just didn't feel comfortable with me yet. I didn't feel that spark that you feel when you meet someone. Should I go out with him again? We sure had fun. I dunno. You just can't force chemistry, but I guess another shot is worth a chance. And besides, I'm totally okay with busying myself with him so I'm not too anxious with SixtyDollarTab.

Speaking of Sixty ...

Follow-up plans with SixtyDollarTab. I sent him an e-mail last week after our super date, and I thanked him for the wonderful time. He wrote back and said he'd love to go out again, and wondered if we could go dancing or go to a dinner theatre.

Excuse me?! Who is this guy?! Wowsa. He's working hard. I like that. It's so refreshing to go out with someone who plans the date rather than saying: "Welllllll. I don't care. Whadda you wanna do?" Niiiice.

So he called. And I told him that either dancing or the theatre would be great, but that I wasn't much of a dancer. He laughed and said, "I'm not much of a dancer either, so how about I look up some dancing lessons? That might be fun." He is really winning me over with these creative dates.

Oh. Did I mention last time that he wanted to pray before we ate? I didn't? Well. We did.

All together: "Awwwww."

He'll probably break my heart. It always happens. I'll try to stay optomistic.

Job interview. While I feel it went very well, it's always so hard to tell over the phone. I'm not going to lie: I'm kindof disinterested in the whole thing right now. I know it's my dream job, but maybe I'm not meant to have it right yet. It's been a week and a half since I've heard anything from them, and I'm thinking that's probably not good. If I hear from them about a second phone interview that they said would be the next step, I'll do it, but I don't think I have any intentions of taking the job if it's offered. I dunno. Whatevs.

Stay tuned next time for the following two stories:

1. The Quadruple Eff Bomb Dropper Who Asked Me Out
2. I Didn't Get Paid for My Time At Work Last Week

Sorry about the cliffhanger. I promise both stories are worth it.

Damn. Our web's back up. I have to actually work. Hope I'm getting paid for it. Later, dudes and dudettes.

Super duper date and other lovahhhhs

2006-03-21T07:06:00.000-08:00

Okay. I promised you guys an update on my love life. Here goes:

1. Old&Rich: He's the one who cancelled on me. Sent him an e-mail telling him I wasn't interested in rescheduling. Peace out, you crazy kid.

2. RedHeadedCowboy: From the bar. We've texted each other, but I remembered that I really don't have much in common with him. Come on. He's a farmer. I barely know what winter wheat is. I don't think he's for me. He sure was cute.

3. JackRussellChristian: He's from a while back. We've talked on the phone a few times -- only because we lost contact a few months ago and he decided to go all Hail Mary on me and attempt to call again out of the blue. Frankly? He bores me. I need someone peppy and energetic and willing to chase me a little. He is none of those things. Plus he's short. Next!

These next two are verrrrry promising:

4. DoctorHelper: Actually, he's a surgical technician, or at least he's studying to become one. He's tall, Christian, and plays guitar. We spoke on the phone on Sunday (I missed Grey's Anatomy for him! He better be worth it!), and the conversation went very, very, very well. I was pleasantly surprised. He said talking to me was like a breath of fresh air -- that I was so energetic and personable and smart. He couldn't wait to meet me. How nice. We are planning to meet Saturday for lunch, but haven't hammered out anything definite. Keep ya posted.

And meet the newest arrival...dum dum dum...

5. SixtyDollarTab: Super duper pooper date last night. I had absolutely zero expectations for this guy because he just asked me out right off the bat - no phone calls or e-mail pen-palish set up. And he was wonderful. Personable. Smart. Quick-witted. Cute. And....Christian!! And we actually talked about church and God and being saved. Did I mention that he dropped $60 on our dinner? We ate at an adorable French bistro, and he ordered a huge cheese plate for our appetizer and in addition to our delicious dinner -- it was $60! I offered to help pay, looked down at the tab, and gasped. "Oh no!" I said. "Please let me help you pay for this!" He wouldn't hear of it. How nice. Sixty dollars on someone he didn't even know! What a nice guy.

Needless to say, we'll be seeing one another again. It was such a refreshing date!

Gross.

2006-03-18T08:10:00.001-08:00

Have a lunch date with Old&Rich this afternoon, and I'm out of clean bras and low rise undies, so I'm doing laundry.

How sad is it that I've been so busy that I haven't been able to do laundry and therefore I'm out of clean undergarments? Anyway...

I'll recap the lunch date with Old&Rich afterwards. (And when I say "old," I mean like 29, and when I say "rich," I mean he makes between $75,000 and $100,000 a year. Holy shit.)

Got my laundry going and moved to the computer to check my e-mail. Ooooh. A message from a new guy! Dave.

Dave's profile says he is 47, which is gross enough in itself, but his gross factor skyrocketed after I read his e-mail:

"You are sexy as hell. Would you be interested in a discreet hookup? Im serious."

Ew. With a side of ew.

::EDIT:: Okay. So here's the deal.

St. Patrick's Day was yesterday, right? I went out with a group of friends, had a great drunken time, but in the back of my mind I'm thinking: "I have this lunch date with Old&Rich."

So I take it easy on the green beer and turn in early - about 11:30 p.m.

I get up early this morning to iron my things and do some laundry. Get showed and dressed. And get a phone call and a message. I didn't answer because I didn't hear it ring.

"Hi Sandra Dee. Just calling to let you know that I'm not going to be able to make it to lunch. My friends and I went out to the bars for St. Patrick's Day last night, and I'm just now getting home. So I'm pretty beat. Maybe I could take a rain check and we could do it again? Sorry. Bye."

He's just now getting home?! At 12:30 in the afternoon?! Are you freakin' kidding me?! I bend over backwards to make sure that I'm home early last night, and you can't do me the courtesy of doing the same? And may I add that he's the one who suggested lunch today - not me.

I'd rather not even reschedule. Am I being too harsh?

Busy, busy, busy!

2006-03-14T14:34:00.000-08:00

Sorry about the absence from blogging. I've been rather busy these last few days.

1. Just returned home on Monday from a road trip to Ohio. And no. It was not for a vacation. It was for a friend's wedding. And, in ya'lls sarcastic tones, you might be thinking, "Well I bet that was fun." But lemme tell you what. It was actually fun. Seriously.

I went with three of my girlfriends, and we had a blast. The surprising thing about it was we never fought. I mean, we got a little on each others nerves now and then, but that was it. Even after spending the entire weekend in a tiny hotel room and the rest of the time in the car or at the wedding. It was great. The ride back was less than stellar, seeing as though we got caught in a tornado, some terribly blinding rain, and hail. But we made it safely home. Good times.

2. I applied for a new job a couple of weeks ago. Not because I don't like the one that I'm currently in, but because this is my dream job. Did you guys hear me? I don't think you did. Lemme repeat it.

This. Is. My. Dream. Job.

I had completely forgotten that I had applied for it. That is, until they called me for the interview today. I will be interviewing via phone with the director on Friday. Pray for me. Because I think I'm probably going to be so nervous that I'll pee all over myself.

Okay. Well. Not really. But I might.

3. New boys entering the picture, whom will blog about later, when I have more time:

Old&Rich
DoctorHelper
RedHeadedCowboy (Good as I can do for a name.)
JackRussellChristian (Remember him? Well, we lost contact - missed phone calls - etc. - but his "hail Mary" attempt at wanting to reconnect had me wondering....)

That about sums up my busy life. Please excuse my mess. Watch your step.

Well it wouldn't be for GOOD...

2006-03-08T19:42:00.000-08:00

My friend AP and I had the following conversation last night about how I had given up on men:

Sandra Dee: Maybe I'll just join a convent. Become a nun.

AP: DO IT!

Sandra Dee: Sister Sandy. That has a nice ring to it.

AP: You'd be so sexually starved you'd go crazy. It'd suck after six months.

Sandra Dee: I could be a temp.

Where the hell are all the bars?!

2006-03-07T12:09:00.000-08:00

This weekend, I think I got an invitation to be initiated into a gang.

As you may or may not have known, I traveled down to Dallas this weekend on business. It was exhausting. AP and J - some friends from Fort Worth - traveled over to the Cheesecake Factory to eat dinner with me. The cheesecake was divine. The meal was just so-so.

But my company was super. We were having so much fun that we decided to run back to my hotel and ask them where the nightlife areas were downtown. She told us Deep Ellum was our best bet.

We found the area and cruised around. Then, before we knew it, some friendly boyz in da hood were cordially inviting us to be members of their local gang.

We were honored. I mean, it was so unexpected! I had my acceptance speech all prepared and everything. But alas. Unfortunately, we had to politely decline, claiming we didn't have enough tats. We were afraid we just wouldn't fit in.

Oh okay. So none of that happened. In fact, we never even got out of the car. It was awwwwfully sketchy looking down there. Eek.

After driving aimlessly around downtown Dallas looking for something - anything - to do, quiet J lets out a "WHERE THE HELL ARE ALL THE BARS DOWN HERE?!" We died laughing. All this for a stinkin' beer.

Well. At least we didn't get shot.

No more limbo.

2006-03-03T06:37:00.000-08:00

Welp, he called.

And I was in the shower. I hate when guys call me when I'm in the shower. Because when I call them back, I can't very well say, "Oh sorry. I was in the shower when you called," because we alllll know what mental image that's going to give 'em. And frankly - ahem - I don't want them thinking about that.

So anyway, I listened to his message. "Hiiiii Saaaaandra Deeeeeeee," he said in his southern Oklahoma accent. "Thiiis iiis" oh dammit, he needs a name - I'll let you guys decide. "I just wanted to say heyyy. Gimmeee a hollerrrr back. I'll taaaalk to ya laaaaaterrrr."

I just had to laugh. Now I've heard some fun accents, but this one's pretty good.

Or should I say puuurrrrrrdy good. Heh. I crack myself up.

I called him back about an hour later since I was rather preoccupied with the American Idol results. (How excited am I about Brenna getting cut?! What a drama queen. I hated her. And she just seemed so hard to get along with. Sorry. I digress, yet again. Why do I always DO that?!...)

This guy is super nice. I mean super duper nice. Shy, quiet, unassuming, modest. The kind to take home to meet your parents. I poked fun at him for his accent - he said something about having the "derrrrrnedest luuuck" - and he took it well.

The conversation was good, too. Has a younger sister. Raised Methodist. From southwestern Oklahoma. Graduated high school with 13 people. His family has a farm - grows wheat, hay, alfalfa, cotton and a few other things on their land. He works full time for the university's ag program, but is taking six hours in graduate school.

We chit-chatted back and forth, but it was getting late - about 9:30 - and at Oklahoma State, Thursday night is the night to party on campus. So I decided to let him go. I said I hoped we got to talk again soon.

And if we do talk again, I'd be puuurrrrrrdy excited.

Who does this?

2006-03-02T06:38:00.000-08:00

These are the kind of people I work with.

They talk about everything and everybody and act as though they are so much better than anyone else. They talk badly about others and criticize their work. They gossip about everything under the sun and point and laugh at the misfortunate.

And yesterday they started doing it with me.

I never dreamed that my - well, on the surface anyway - nice coworkers would ever begin doing these horrible things to me, but they have. How could I piss anyone off so much that they feel the need to talk about me behind my back? And I'm not talking about high school students here. I'm talking about co-workers who are twice my age. Old enough to be past that, don't you think?

Whispering in their offices next to mine about some mistake I made. I don't mind them pointing out the mistake to me. In fact, I welcome that. But instead they've decided to be cowardly and discuss the situation with each other instead of the party that needs to know about it. Me.

And don't think it's just all in my head and its just my lack of self-confidence at work reading into things. I know they were speaking to one another about me because I walked in on them doing so. Hunkered over the computer, whispering my name, and laughing. And when I walked in, they looked at me with mouths open, like I'd splashed water in their faces.

I told them what I needed to tell them - work related - and went back to my office as fast as I could - because I thought I was going to start crying. At work. How incredibly unprofessional.

I don't have to take that. I love my job too much to let this get to me. So I'm pushing through. And somehow I thought blogging would help me do so.

I hope I don't start crying today just thinking about it.

Sigh. So thank you. Please leave me nice comments to help me feel better.

I hate the limbo.

2006-02-28T11:00:00.000-08:00

For all of you who were wondering, I still have a job. Praise Jesus. Our funding is fine. For now.

And yes. Yesterday was my birthday. It was pretty much just like any other day since I celebrated with family and friends in Stillwater this weekend.

And what a fantastic weekend it was.

Friday night I went to see my college-aged friends and we all went out to the bars. I hadn't been to the bars with them since I graduated, so it was certainly fun remembering all of the good drunken times I had in those old dirty saloons. We bar hopped, and finally ended at our favorite: Willie's.

I'd only had a couple of beers, but I was getting sleepy by about 1 a.m. And knowbody wants a Debbie Downer at the par-tay, so I gathered my things and headed for the door.

But that wasn't the end of the night. No siree.

As I am hugging everyone goodbye, my friend LS - who was celebrating her 21st and was understandably very intoxicated - hugged me started swinging me back and forth, hitting this guy beside us. He turned around with a funny look on his face, and I mouthed "I'm so sorry" to him. He laughed, but LS kept doing it. I shouted to him above the red dirt music that it was LS's 21st, and he said, "Well she's probably a little tipsy!" I laughed, finally pulled away from LS, and started heading for the door.

I really just wanted to go home. I mean, he was super cute, but I really wasn't looking to meet anyone.

"He's totally hitting on you! Go for it!" my friend JN said in my ear. "He is?!" I asked, making a face. She nodded.

Sigh. Fine. Okay.

He and I got to talking, flirted a little, and the bottom line? I'm glad I stayed. I guess I was skeptical because I just don't like meeting guys in bars. I mean, they're drunk, they think that you want to go home with them, and they usually act like they're hot shit when they can drink an entire 5 pitches of burrrrrr.

This guy was none of the above. Granted, not really my type with his stereotypical Western belt buckle and cowboy boots, but awfully good lookin' and quite sincere.

It was approaching 1:30 and he and I were still talking. I'd met his friends who were standing around with him - most of which had on cowboy hats. I'm smiling thinking about it. It's just so darn stereotypical in Oklahoma. Just some good ol' farm boys enjoying a brewskie. Anyway, my new friend asked me if I wanted to run down the street to the Copper Penny bar with his friends before it closed.

I took that as a good sign. You know. Rather than him saying "My friends and I are going down to the Penny. Peace out, you crazy hooker."

So. Yeah. He bought me a drink at the Penny. Without me even making a move toward the bar. I guess that's a good sign, too. And he kept saying, "I'm so glad I met you." And he said he'd call me after we exchanged numbers. And he asked to be my Facebook friend - but not like a stalker thing because we joked about something being a quote for the Facebook profile. (Yes, I am on the Facebook. Don't ask.) And he wrote a message through the Facebook about how nice it was to meet me and hoped I was having a great birthday.

I responded with "Thanks! Call me sometime!" Was that too forward? I dunno. I wanted to give him the idea that I was interested.

I assume the above are good signs. I never know if the guy is just being nice and I'm just looking for them to like me or if they really do like me and I'm just blind and don't see it. I can never ever tell. Whatever. He sure was cute, though.

The rest of the weekend was wonderful. My family is from Stillwater, so while I was in town for the bar hopping, I stayed with Mom and spent the weekend with her and my grandparents. Went to the Oklahoma State basketball game - where we won - then out to dinner at the town's Country Club. Sunday brought opening presents. It was marvelous and relaxing.

Happy Birthday to me! Here's to many more!

P.S. And if you're wondering? No. The guy from Friday hasn't called yet. I hope I'm not jinxing this by writing about it.

So here comes the limbo. I hate the limbo.

Oh. And I'm not naming him until he calls. So there.

I hope I have a job on Tuesday.

2006-02-24T11:31:00.000-08:00

I love my job.

I work in an office with four people. I work for a tourism association. I do marketing projects for this organization's members. We are government funded.

That being said, our funding was cut last year by 1/3. And they're voting on Monday to cut us again.

I was the last person at this place to be hired. I have been working here for six months. I'm very worried about my job security if this vote swings toward taking our money away.

My boss calls us all into her office to tell us the bad news. She said she probably won't bein the office on Monday because of the vote.

I probably won't sleep well this weekend.

And Monday's my birthday.

Happy Birthday to you, Sandra Dee. Now here's your pink slip.

I don't think you're ready for this jelly, cyberspace.

2006-02-23T08:32:00.000-08:00

Most of you who read my blog are anonymous bloggers, just stopping by for a quick hello.

Most of you are bloggers whom I have never met.

And finally, most of you know I just started this blog a few months ago, with the intention of gossiping on and on about my dates.

I know this site is called Sandra Dee Dates. But my life doesn't revolve around my dates (or lack thereof for that matter.) So this blog is turning over a new leaf.

I'm going to stop making this blog all about boys.

You heard me. Don't act so shocked. And close your jaws. It's not polite to stare at me all weird like that.

Okay fine. Maybe it's not such a big deal for you guys. But it is for me.

Why? Because I have another personal Xanga blog that all of my friends read. And I've had that one for about 2 years now. I don't want to abandon all of those friends over there lieu of anonymity with this one. Plus not all of my fabulous friends have a Blogger account.

So do I double post, reiterating the same mundane boring crap on two blogs?

The answer, of course, is yes.

So get ready for a little more insight into my life, anonymous Blogger friends. And get ready for even more fabulous writing from yours truly.

I don't think you're ready for this jelly, cyberspace.

SAVE THE GOOD ONES FOR THE REST OF US!

2006-02-20T16:34:00.000-08:00

As I straightened my things up at my desk and got ready to head out the door from work, I remembered I needed to ask my co-worker something before I left. She and our intern were talking, so I waited for a bit until they were finished.

Our intern was talking about how she has been in a long distance relationship with a great Christian guy for two years. She was concerened because there's this other guy who's been chasing after her for a while now, but she didn't want to explore it because of her loyalities to the long distance guy.

"The problem is that they're both wonderful guys and perfect for me," she moaned. "I just can't decide what to do."

I almost threw up. I couldn't stand it. I had to say something.

"What a horrible problem," I said sarcastically, with an eyeroll for added affect.

They both laughed.

"I'm not kidding," I said. "At least you don't have to worry about going on horrible first dates with guys who walk 10 feet ahead of you, don't open your door, and don't pay for your dinner. Welcome to my life!"

"Awwww," she said. "He's out there." Like I needed to be pittied for my being single. Thaaaaanks.

What I really wanted to say to her was: "YOU DON'T GET TO HAVE BOTH! SAVE THE GOOD ONES FOR THE REST OF US!"

If we all could be lucky to just have ONE great man pining after us, let alone TWO.

Silly girl.

I am not too picky.

2006-02-16T19:33:00.000-08:00

I really enjoy being single.

And it's a good thing that I have a enough self confidence to say that because it's looking like it might stay that way for a while:

Anchorman. Come on people. Our last date was in 1812. Don't hold any hope for him because I certainly haven't been. We had a few witty e-mail banters, but for the most part, he's history in my books.

And he is too old for me - a year shy of 30. That's pretty much what my sorority sisters and I like to call "old balls." Because after that? You might as well be sporting wrinkly nuts, be in a wheelchair and gumming on jello.

Plus Anchorman's extreeeeeemely athletic - like training-for-a-duathalon athletic - and that makes me rather nauseous and very self conscious with my less-than-bootylicious body.

And I recently found out a serious dealbreaker:

He's not a Christian.

Peace out, Ron Burgandy.

JackRussellChristian. He wanted to know if he could call me after about five e-mail banters. Okay. Cool. I sent him my digits ... nine days ago. I get an e-mail last Friday: "I'm sorry I haven't called. I promise I haven't forgotten. I will have some time tomorrow afternoon if that's okay." I wrote back: "That's perfectly all right, Jack. Just call when you have time." Then I get another on Monday: "I didn't have time this weekend to call you. I'm sorry. How about sometime this week?" I get another e-mail today with just about the same message.

Like I'm supposed to wait by the phone for this punk? Puuuh-leeeeeze. I have a life too, dude. If you call and I'm around, I'll answer. But don't hold your breath.

BlastFromThePast. No report. Seriously - did you really expect anything?

And that's that.

I'm not too picky, though. It's more like what Dating Dummy said:

"You're single because you're refusing to settle for anything less than you deserve."

I couldn't have said it better myself.

Who said all the good ones are taken?

2006-02-15T16:49:00.000-08:00

My office outsources all of our Web design stuff to a small little Web design firm in town. I'm in charge of all of the marketing and Web projects at work, so I work pretty closely with these Web techies.

And quite frankly, I had been working with nothing but Web techies.

That is until about three weeks ago when angels sang from the heavens and brought a gorgeous young man into my life.

And he shall be called HotWorkBoy. Why? Because he's a very very very very very hot male. And I just began working a lot closer with the dude. Awwww yeaaaaaah.

Now I'm not so superfical to think that looks are the only thing to matter. I'll let you in on a little secret:

I think nerds are sexy.

Not dweebs, who are the antisocial types. But nerds, who, in their own special way, charm and amaze me with their intellect.

And HotWorkBoy fits the bill. Perfectly. Not only is he very very very very very hot, but he knows nerdy things about Web design, is incredibly smart, witty, punctual to our meetings, well-groomed, professional, and as nice as the day is long.

Okay. Fine. So he's shorter than I am? BIG. DEAL. I can look past that. Totally look past that.

And I'm looking so far past it that I'm planning a June wedding.

Yes, yes. I know I'm rushing things a bit, and June is quickly approaching, but I think it would be best since I've fallen madly in love with this man.

Oh.

Wait.

Did I mention he's already married?

I didn't?

Oh.

Well, he is.

So that kinda poses a problem.

V-Day Equals Me Time

2006-02-15T07:09:00.000-08:00

An e-mail from The Slacker this morning reminded me that I haven't told you all about my wonderful Valentine's Day.

First, I took a shower.

Then, instead of dinner, I ate a brownie. And it was yummy in my tummy.

Okay, okay! FINE! I ate two! You drug it out of me.

Next, I settled in for another train-wreck episode of American Idol. Then it was time for Sex in the City reruns on TBS and the news.

Oh. I forgot to tell you that before all of this, I read a Valentine's e-card. From my mother. The only one I got, may I add. Oh well.

Finally, I went to bed early.

Taaaaa daaaaa. Yay for me time!

My Prince Charming Missed the Memo

2006-02-13T20:26:00.000-08:00

I realize Valentine's Day is tomorrow. I realize that I don't have a date. I realize that I'll probably stay at home in my sweats tomorrow night.

And that's fine with me. I don't really care, okay? I don't. I. Don't. Care.

My Prince Charming missed the memo, anyway.

Why is there so much emphasis placed on whether or not you have a date on Valentine's Day? I mean, why can't we spread the love on another holiday?

Like Easter, for instance. Have that be ... I dunno ... "Make A Date with Jesus" Day or something.

Groundhog Day? "Hug A Fat Furry Rodent" Day.

April Fool's Day?: "Be Nice To Your Roommate For A Change You Bastard And Don't Use His Toothbrush As A Toilet Brush."

Saint Patrick's Day could be "Love You Some Beer" Day.

Oh wait. It's pretty much already called that.

And how about April 15? "Love The IRS And Get Your Shit Together Before This Day." Okay, well you don't have to love the IRS, but you probably should love your life savings enough to still get your shit together before this day.

At any rate, this humor makes me feel better. Thanks. Now I think I'll survive tomorrow. And all you lovely beautiful and handsome single creatures out there will, too.

So send yourself some flowers at work, eat a big 'ol box of chocolates, and then, do as my friend Natalie says:

"Put on your big girl panties and get over it."

Enjoy the single life, boys and girls.

I think I found a keeper.

2006-02-13T12:26:00.000-08:00

Head on over to I Liked Your Profile to see the latest.

Ugh. Men!

And this is what I get for being nice.

2006-02-11T20:54:00.000-08:00

You may have seen my edit in the last post. I had to send a Dear John e-mail to BoomerSooner. Here's the gist of the e-mail:

"BoomerSooner,

Thanks for your replies. Unfortunately, I just don't think this will be a match. I'm so sorry. While all of the attention was very flattering, I'm afraid you just came on a bit too strong for me. Best of luck in your search! Sandra Dee"

That's not rude, I didn't think. Just honest. Short and to the point. I could have gone into detail about how I was freaked out by his many e-mails. I could have just quit writing him and left him in the dark.

But according to my niceness meter, as well as Velvet, Okie and Wombat, guys shouldn't be left hanging and like it when women give it to them straight. So I went with that.

And what do I get for being nice?:

"Sandra Dee-

I understand if you don't like me. That I can deal with. What I don't really like is being bullshitted. You read it right: bullshitted. If writing a few letters to you and expressing the fact that I happen to like you a lot and that you're a beautiful girl is "coming on too strongly," then either the world has changed a great deal since I learned the ways of dating, or you're bullshitting me. Please spare me the "business-like" dismissal and the contrived reasons for rejecting me. Just spare me, and tell the truth. Put yourself in my shoes. If you really liked someone, what would you have done? Acted like you DIDN'T like them? If that's your philosophy, prepare to live a very lonely existence. Maybe I'm just a little too damn honest for today's "dating games." I just wish you'd have met me in person because you'd have seen what an impressive person you're leaving behind. That's not arrogance, it's true. It's your loss, dear.

BoomerSooner"

I was stunned.

I called my old boyfriend who knows him, and we chatted about it. I felt terrible about my actions, but I thought honesty was the best way to go. The old boyfriend said my e-mail did sound a bit formal and lawyer-like, and he could see how Boomer may have misunderstood it and taken it as bullshit. Although the old flame knew me better than that, he knew Boomer wouldn't.

It's this stuff that makes me want to throw in the towel and say to hell with dating.

I spent part of the evening in tears over this stupid e-mail, people. Why do I let things like this get to me?

A stalker? No. Seriously.

2006-02-10T11:24:00.000-08:00

I have a stalker.

No. Seriously.

Okay, so it's an e-mail stalker. But still.

I knew I shouldn't have gotten involved with a Sooner.

Last night, while catching up with Chenelle, my very bestest friend in the whole wide world, she told me about the wonderful boy she has been dating. We chatted about her glorious and perfect love life, and then she asked about mine. I told her it was less that stellar, but it'd been getting interesting.

I got up to read her my long e-mail from BoomerSooner, and proceeded to tell her that the old boyfriend actually knew him.

And in my inbox sat SEVEN additional messages. ALL FROM BOOMERSOONER.

SEVEN people. SE-VEN. NONE of which have I responded to. In fact, I haven't even responded to the first one for heaven's sakes.

Sigh.

Where are all of the normal guys hiding?

Seriously.

::EDIT:: He got a Dear John letter. And he'll probably reply.

Introductions and Updates

2006-02-09T10:58:00.000-08:00

My dearest Sandra Dee Dates readers. I am pleased to introduce to you two more men, whose names shall be protected to change the innocent.

Oh wait. Strike that. Reverse. Ten points to whoever can name what movie that quote is from!

I digress.

On with the show...

1. JackRussellChristian: Called such because of his dog and the fact that he is a very strong Christian. He looks quite cute in his pictures. Rides a motorcycle, is very fit and active, loves him some Jesus, football and music.

When you read a profile like his that says: "I want to meet a great Christian girl, someone with a sense of humor, someone who is low-maintenance and loves me for me and not what material gain can give them," it hits home, kiddies. I mean, I'm low maintenance! I'm a great Christian girl! And I've got a dazzling sense of humor!

The catch? He's 5'10", and we all know what that means.

Okay, okay, okay. I'm keeping an open mind.

2. BoomerSooner: Now my momma told me never to get involved with any of those stupid OU Sooners. (Okay, so maybe she never said that. Our family just has strong ties to the other guys.) But I'm making an exception for this one.

He's from my hometown, loves sports, Jesus, and - in a bizarre turn of events - actually went to high school and was very good friends with one of my old boyfriends (whom I am still on good terms with and he has given the stamp of approval).

I'm a bit overwhelmed by his second e-mail though. Long, yes, but more about the part at the end: "You are sooooo beautiful. I'm glad I didn't scare you off with my ugly pictures. lol."

I hope this guy doesn't come on too strong too fast and send me running for the hills.

In other news...

Anchorman: Sent funny e-mail this morning. Something about my poor Pokes losing to the stupid Sooners in basketball last night, and about how the anouncers during the game wouldn't shut up about how wonderful his alma mater, the KU Jayhawks, did against the Huskers. I added that I had fun on Friday, and inserted my signature "How's life?" question.

This was our first form of communication since our date last Friday. No response. I'm not totally sure he's into me, guys. Not gonna lie.

And finally...

BlastFromThePast: Called him last night to tell him that this weekend would be fine. He said he had an out-of-town football clinic that he was going to have to go to.

Whaaaaaaaat?!

"Do you still want to get together or is that your way of blowing me off?" I asked.

"No no no. Of course I still want to get together. How about next weekend?" he asked.

"I'll have to wait and see. I'll get back with you." Like my non-committedness?

This dude could seriously be trouble. And quite frankly, I don't have the time or the energy to put up with his games at this point. I'm not saying he doesn't have a football clinic this weekend, but he was the one who wanted to do this weekend to begin with. I was the one who needeed to check. Why has this clinic crap suddenly come up? Whatever.

The reason I'm being so cynical is that I think he most definitely is a ladies man, no doubt about that. Whatever. Okie reminded me not to settle for this kid. You are so right, kind sir. Thanks.

So that's that. I hope you enjoyed meeting Sandra Dee's new prospects.

Until next time, don't sit too close to the televison and eat your veggies.

BlastFromThePast becomes Date of the Future

2006-02-08T14:40:00.000-08:00

A few nights back, while chatting online with the Porchmaster, BlastFromThePast peeked his head in to say hello.

Him: Long time no talk!
Me: Well well well. How goes it?
Him: It goes.

Excellent. He gets my sense of humor. Two points.

What we talked about next absolutely blew me over.

Him: So I have a weird question for you.
Me: I probably have been asked it before, so shoot.
Him: My friends and I were talking today about threesomes. Have you ever been in one?

What. The. Hell. Don't ask me shit like that. I didn't know if he was asking me to participate in one with him or if he was just fishing to see what kind of girl I was. At any rate, I certainly wasn't going to discuss my sexual history with a guy I barely know.

Then again, this guy smelled like trouble. Two can play that game.

Me: Let me get this straight. Your friends and you are wanting to have a threesome?
Him: What guy doesn't?!
Me: Are you talking a two guys and a girl or the other way around?
Him: No no no. Two girls, one guy.
Me: Gotcha.
Him: Soooooo? Have you?

I waited a long time before coming up with something. And as a backgrounder, I have never, will never, and probably don't have any desire to participate in a threesome. So don't go getting any ideas.

Me: I plead the fifth.
Him: Whoa. That's like the biggest turn on. Just so you know.

Ahem. Well, what he doesn't know can't hurt him, right? :)

Me: So tell me how your job's going?
Him: Nice way to change the subject.
Me: Subtle, wasn't it?
Him: Very. Job's good. Hey - what are you doing this weekend?

This was Monday night. Calm down, killer. I think he might have just been horned up from my threesome response. I have a feeling I'm going to have to watch it with this one, folks. Grrrr.

Me: Gosh. I haven't thought that far ahead yet. What did you have in mind?
Him: How about dinner and a movie?
Me: That's a bit stale, don't you think? (Okay, fine. That was bitchy. I'll give you that one. But puuhleez. A movie? On the first date?! We can be more creative than that.)
Him: Well how about dinner and then you pick?
Me: Perfect. I'm in tourism, remember? I'll pick out the hot spots in my great city.
Him: Okay. So what day this weekend?
Me: I'm not sure. It might have to be the weekend after. (With Anchorman entering the picture and everything.) I'll get back to you.
Him: Sounds good.
Me: Do you have my number?
Him: Ohhhhh boy. I get the digits?
Me: Only if I get your's.
Him: Okay. (Enter exchange of phone numbers here.)
Me: I'll let you know about what day works well with my schedule.
Him: Sounds good. Have a good night. We'll talk soon.

Oh. Did I mention he plays the piano, guitar, sings and writes his own music? Oh. And that he loves football and happens to coach it, too? And did I mention that he's a stud and a half?

Oh. Okay. Well he is.

I'm calling him tonight about this weekend. I haven't heard squat from Anchorman all week. And Blast is putting forth an effort.

So bingo. I'll keep everyone posted.

Being a Reeeetard for IraqSoldier

2006-02-07T16:51:00.000-08:00

Okay fine. You drug it out of me, blogosphere. I wasn't going to talk with you about it, but you win.

Here goes.

My confessional about a boy you haven't heard about yet.

And I can't stop thinking about him. So sue me.

Meet IraqSolider. Adorable. Smart. Hilarious. Polite. Handsome. Gentlemanly. Tall. Strong Christian - but more importantly, Presbyterian - which is what I am. He also grew up about 40 miles from where I went to high school in South Carolina. He also attended college at one of the schools that I had been looking at attending before I settled on my parents' alma mater. Needless to say we had gobs in common.

We met online about six months ago. We talked quite a bit for several weeks and finally decided to meet in person. And you know how you meet someone on a blind date and the chemistry just isn't there? That's how this was supposed to be. We were supposed to meet, think we were completely wrong for one another, and move on.

Oh. How dumb I was. How dumb I am.

I was stupid to even agree to meeting in the first place. Good Lord. He was going to be shipped overseas to Iraq four weeks after we met. I knew that. I KNEW that. And we STILL MET.

All together: Saaaaaandy - you reeeeeetard!!

But it wasn't supposed to work! It wasn't!

Why am I a retard? (Oh wait. Excuse me. I mean reeeeeeetard....) Because I think I had the best connection with him than anyone I have ever dated or will ever date, and I didn't know if he was going to come back or not. And if he did come back, if he'd even be the same person he was before he left.

We were on the same wavelength with so many things. We shared the same core values. He was aggressive with me without being over the top and pushy. And. Well. Dammit, we looked good together, too. Oh. And he kissed me. Not the other way around. Well, he was a horrible kisser, but I didn't care. It wasn't about that with IraqSoldier. It was deeper. We met a couple of times and spent two weekends together. He wanted to spend a third before he left, but I said no. I didn't want this getting complicated.

Too late, Sandy. Too damn late.

*Slaps forehead* You reeeeeeetard!

I was in too deep. He wanted to write me while he was over there. I said that would be great - I'd love it. I was afraid of it turning into a letters-from-war-romance cliche thingy, but I never told him that. I was afraid of what he might want the writing to become, or how he felt about me. So I just kept quiet.

And I waited for him to write.

And waited.

And he never wrote.

So - stupid me - I went first. I've written IraqSoldier twice now since he went over there in November. And nothing. When I tell people I haven't heard back from him, some ask me if I think he's even alive. But I know he is. He gave me his username so we could chat online, and he's been online several times. I've tried shooting him a couple of IMs through that just to say hi, and? Nothing. He's talking to his family I'm sure, and I don't have any business interrupting that whatsoever.

I know he has a job to do. A very busy and important and stressful and scary ass job to do. I know this.

And you guys probably think I'm making all of this up. I'm not. It could be something from a movie, for God's sake. Yeah. Right. Like a really horrible horror flick where the girl gets her heart smashed in a million and two pieces, and not by the guy, but by something larger and out of her control.

War.

I pray for him and his family every night. I think about him all the time. I wonder if he's sleeping or if he's making lists about real estate or thinking about what kind of car he's going to buy when he gets back or his dog or his new baby nephew or his roommate who's still in the U.S. I think about this. I know. I'm a reeeeeetard.

Well tonight I broke down and wrote him again. Talked about stupid stuff - the weather, the Super Bowl (he loves football), my job, highlights in the news - whatever. Crap that he probably doesn't care two hoots about. I just wanted him to know I was thinking about him.

And praying for his safe return.

But I didn't send it yet. I'm going to wait a while. Like after Valentine's Day. I don't want him thinking that just because I'm spending V-Day alone that that's why I'm missing him. Because it's not. At. All.

Dear Lord. I just miss him.

No strings attached.

::Edit:: If anyone has any advice for me as to how to handle this situation, I'm all ears. Please. Save me from being an even bigger reeeeetard than I've already been. Help a sista out.

Anchorman Redeems Himself

2006-02-06T09:15:00.000-08:00

Prepare thyselves for an Anchorman rerun. But this one is a bit more action packed and waaay better.

I got off early at work on Friday and was almost ready when my phone rang. It was Anchorman. I was supposed to call him before I left so he would have a good idea of when I would be arriving in his neck of the woods. (He lives two hours away.)

He made points early when he said: "I was going for a run and didn't want you to call while I was out. Just get here when you get here and I'll see you then." Well aren't you nice. He said he had already picked out the theatre where we'd go, too. Props, kiddo.

Arrived at 8 o'clock, and guess what time the movie started. You guessed it. Eight o'clock. We were going to be late. We raced to the theatre and got there just in time. We missed the first 20 minutes but the first 10 were previews anyway. Whew.

After it was over, we walked out into the parking lot.

And he - gasp - didn't walk on the outside next to the curb. I had to make fun of him kids. Had to.

"You know the rule don't you?" I said.
"What rule?"
"The rule that the man is supposed to walk on the outside, next to the curb."
"Not if I want to push you into oncoming traffic," he said with a grin, and he proceeds to playfully push me off of the curb. Where did this guy come from?, I was asking myself. He certainly wasn't the same jerky guy I'd gone out with last time.

We got to the car and put his hand on my door, getting ready to open it for me. "Well at least you got one thing right," I joked, pointing at the car door. Then he just stood there with his hand on the door, grinning at me. I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but I wasn't sure I wanted to. "Open my door!" I said, and I pushed him out of the way and did it myself. "Aren't you demanding!" he said.

We finally found the bar district, hopped out and were on our way. First we hit a great little place called The Brook for nachos and beer. (Oh. And after my ice cream comment from date #1, I think I spoke too soon. He was the one who wanted the nachos.) We made fun of each other - him of me for using a fork with my nachos, me of him for not finishing his beer fast enough - and the conversation turned to funny stories about our drunken days in college. In the light of the stories, he suggested we grab another round, then he insisted we take a shot - of Jagermeister. I love Jager, but I never dreamed he'd be up for it. Again, I thought: Who is this guy and what have you done with the square, boring asshole I met two weeks ago? Bottom's up it went, cleaned up the nachos, and we were off to another bar.

The next bar was a hole in the wall, with a horrible guitar player in the background, but cheap beer so we stayed. But just for one. Now, I don't know if it was the alcohol or if he was more comfortable with me, but this guy was turning out to be a rather fun date, people. We actually were involved in - brace yourselves - some playful hitting and flirting. I know. Shocker.

And you know the comment he made about being sure I wore something slutty? So I did? I caught him looking down my shirt.

We waltzed over to our final stop, Vintage 1740 Wine Bar. (Very cute. I highly recommend.) We split a glass of Eroica Riesling (which was delish) and by this time, I was incredibly tipsy. I joked with him and said, "You're just trying to get my drunk so you can take advanage of me." "Is that a bad thing?" he asked. I just grinned.

Thirty mintues later we were back at his apartment making out. And he was gooooood, people. Like the I-can-tell-this-guy's-been-with-a-lot-of-women kind of good. But I didn't care.

And he liked to cuddle. Yessssssss.

Oh. And just in case you were wondering, we didn't do anything except kiss and climb into bed to cuddle. Girl next door, remember?

He doesn't give me the butterflies, so I don't particularly care if I've screwed this up by spending the night. But will I go out with him again?

Of course. The guy can kiss, can't he?

Afternoon Delight with Anchorman

2006-02-02T07:58:00.000-08:00

Yesterday afternoon, after a few witty e-mails with Anchorman, we solidified our second date:

Movie then drinks.

Our banter was fun, flirty, and ... okay ... down right racy for the middle of the afternoon.

Afterall, he is Anchorman. What's e-mailing with him without a little afternoon delight?

Oh. Humor me. Laugh.

Ahem. Anyway, he mentioned as a P.S. in one e-mail that he liked what I wore on our last date, which was a little revealing for a hockey game. I replied back that I would try to find something a little sluttier for this date.

He said:

"The sluttier the better! (Did I just type that?)"

Whoa!! You sure did, bucko. And I don't wanna be stingy.

So ask and you shall receive. The number I picked out just happens to have a plunging neckline that showcases my beauuuutiful knockers.

Okay. Stop. I know what you're thinking. "But you didn't even like him!" Despite my earlier post about how horrible he was, he couldn't be that bad. Did I tell you that this weekend is his birthday, and he's fitting me in this weekend before he drives to Kansas City to see his friends for some celebration?

I'm taking that as a good sign.

And perhaps he just has a jerk shell and not a jerk core. And frankly I don't know him well enough to know the difference yet.

On this date, I'll get to know him better, all the while figuring out if I'm compatible with him.

And that, my friends, is the beauty of dating.

BlastFromThePast

2006-01-31T17:07:00.000-08:00

Last night, I began preparing for a presentation I'm scheduled to give on Wednesday. Because I had no idea what to talk about, I decided to do a little research and start some talking points.

Ho hum. Just like the days when I was in college. UGH.

Doing a little research and chatting online with a few buds, I get a strange IM request.

I never accept these requests unless I think I recognize the name. This name looked vaguely familiar so I went with it.

Unknown IMer: "Hey there!"
Sandra Dee: "Do I know you?"
Unknown IMer: "I hope you do. It's Xxxxx. You know. The guy from Andy's birthday party in college."

I just about peed all over myself. This guy will from here on be known as my BlastFromThePast - because he was. We met at a friend's birthday party about a year ago and couldn't get enough of one another. Hands all over me, constant flirting, hot as hell, musician and athlete. We exchanged phone numbers and called one another quite a bit, but never could get our schedules to mesh together for a date.

We quickly caught up. He's working at a small Division II school, which is about two hours away from me, as a football coach. I told him how much I love football - I really do - and he asked about me. He said he's always in my city and wanted to know if we could get together next time he's in town.

Hell. The. Eff. Yeah.

I playfully told him that us getting together would rock my socks off.

"Is that an inuendo?!" he asked.

You bet it is, kiddo. Okay - so I'm not placing any bets on us getting together. But just when I thought I'd hit a dead end with my dates, out comes BlastFromThePast. And hopefully a future makeout session. Just what I need.

Hell. The. Eff. Yeah.