Beauty & the Bill Collector (Part One)

Over the past two weeks, my friend Jen has been in the process of developing the unlikeliest of romances.  What makes this courtship seem out of the norm even by the resident Frog Smoocher herself?  Well, the story goes a little something like this...

Jen has student loans - as many of us do.  There were modifications and errors that needed to be corrected on her account. She had been shuffled around many times, but to no avail. She finally decided enough was enough and escalated the matter.  Little did she know what fate had in store for her.

"This better be the last time they transfer me," she muttered under her breath.  Not even a minute passed before he answered the phone.  Ethan was his name.  His voice calmed her like an opiate.  He spoke in a deep baritone, reassuring her that her issues would be resolved.  Something about Ethan's aura set him apart from any bill collector she had ever spoken to.  She knew he wasn't going to leave her stranded like the others. Could it be?

Ethan told Jen that he had to call another department to obtain information for her account.  He conferenced her in, and they waited on hold together.  A moist residue formed on her cell phone case alerting her that her palms were sweating.  And then it happened...he started a conversation with her.  Not just any run of the mill, "how's the weather where you're located", Customer Service bs conversation.  This...this was real.  

Ethan began telling her about a recent trip he took to Brazil.  He wooed her with tips on finding great travel deals and doing investigative research on hotels before making the big purchase.  Jen twirled a few strands of hair around her finger while she listened attentively, captivated by his warmth.  She had gotten so deep into the conversation that she forgot what she originally called in for.  Another representative's voice interrupted their special moment, jerking her back into reality.

Jen's chest deflated at the thought of her 800# romance ending so quickly.  True, she wanted the nightmare with her loans to end.  Yet a small part of her desired Ethan's presence a little longer.  Five minutes later, and her wish was granted.  She made a quick sign of the cross knowing that divine intervention had been bestowed upon her.  More information was needed and her issue couldn't be resolved that day.

Ethan apologized profusely then provided her with his direct line. Lowering his voice a touch, he told her that he didn't give that information to just anybody.  Her cheeks burned red with desire.  "He probably tells that to all of his customers," she thought to herself.  But even the most logical of thoughts couldn't break through the haze his presence left behind.  Ethan made promises and gave her information that no one else had.  He was different.  She caressed the side of her phone softly after they said their goodbyes.  "Until next week, Ethan," she said smiling ever so slightly.

To be continued...

 

Valentine's Day with the Lonely Hearts Club

 Picture and shirt available at founditemclothing.com.

Picture and shirt available at founditemclothing.com.

I figured I'd squeeze another V-day story in before February came to a close.

Initially I had no plans for Valentine's Day. *Jen and I were going to stay in and get some housecleaning done.  On a whim, she decided to spice it up by having a night out on the town.  The idea was that cupid (or some other midget in a pamper) might shoot us in the ass, too.  Neither of us had gone clubbing in a while.  We figured it would be an adventure.  Well, we were right about that part.

I contacted a DJ friend of mine to give me the scoop on what events were taking place for singles on V-Day.  He gave me a few spots.  One of which was a stoplight party (wear red if you're taken, yellow if it's complicated & green if you're single).  The concept intrigued Jen and me.  The location of the venue...eh, not so much.  It shared a building with an hourly motel.  I shuttered at the thought of what I would see coming out of there on the Day O' Love.

Another club, Magic City, was having its grand opening that night.  "Magic City," I thought to myself.  "Isn't that the name of a strip club in Miami or Atlanta?  Oh no, silly.  It's the name of that theme park in Disney World.  They probably named it that because it sounds clubby."  (Please note: inner thought bubbles are great, but Google is a much better resource.)  In any event, Jen and I opted to have a "magical" evening.

When we first arrived, there weren't many people there.  Jen and I conjectured who we might meet that night.  We chatted each other up while we waited for the night to kick into full gear.

It didn't take long for us to realize we weren't in Kansas anymore.  An overweight gentleman with unkempt facial hair and a sloppy button down shirt kept walking past us.  Jen discovered that it wasn't us he was attracted to.  It was a green laser shooting from the ceiling to the dance floor. His attraction to the laser wouldn't have been so bothersome had he not thrown his head back as if he were in an Herbal Essence commercial and flicked his tongue like he was performing cunnilingus on it.  I tried to take video footage, but the flash from my camera betrayed me.  Oops!  On a positive note, he moved to another side of the club.

Jen and I also learned that people believe Valentine's Day gives them a free pass to wear whatever the hell they want.  Case & point: one young lady had a black and white mini dress on.  Normal right?  She wore a red overcoat that puffed out at the bottom like a window valance, giving her the appearance of "Little Red Riding Hood" (LRRH).  I thought maybe I was being a bit harsh until others began referring to her as LRRH as well.  Another winner was a rather large woman in a tight red dress donning gold earrings that said, "TRUST NO BITCH".  We shall call her "Big Red". Her toes hung over the top of her red, pleather open-toed shoes, begging for mercy.  I said a silent "Hail Mary" for them.

Big Red was quite the dancer.  By dancer, I mean she could bend over and make her gluteus maximus do things I thought could only be done with CGI technology.  Cupid's arrow landed on a lanky gentleman standing at the edge of the dance floor.  She shook her tail feathers (all of them) in front of him while he just stood there.  Now, I'm not clear on whether he was drunk, or in shock.  At one point I looked over and caught a glimpse of her holding his face in between her boobs.  I contemplated finding someone to give him CPR as I was sure she had suffocated him. But he came up for air.

A little later in the evening, LRRH  got the dance floor going with her sultry moves. Not to be outdone, Big Red dropped it low for her rag doll of a dance partner.  The whole scene left me scratching my head.  I wanted to laugh, but then I remembered this was happening for real.  And I became sad.

Of course, the night wouldn't be complete if I didn't have a creeper or two hot on my trail.  I did good for about two solid hours.  As Jen and I observed the  tragedies occurring on the dance floor, I felt a presence behind me. I turned around to see a guy in a denim outfit holding two cans of beer.  He had corn rows on the top of his head and the side was shaved.  I turned back around. Bad idea.  He began whispering in my ear at an uncomfortably close distance.

Him: Hi, my name is Rico.

Me: Hi Rico.

Him: You're so beautiful.  I had to get drunk just to get the courage to speak to you.

Me: You what?

Him:  I'm shy.  I needed to get drunk so I could speak to you.

My constant cringing at his warm breath against the back of my ear did nothing.  He didn't get the hint.  Out of the corner of my eye, a lifeline appeared a few feet away from me.  One of my male friends stood nearby.  I walked over to him and smoothly asked him to put an arm around me.  He happily obliged.  Rico got the hint and plodded away to harass some other poor soul.

Valentine's Day at the club scene turned out to be an interesting experience.  Jen said it best, "The right type of guys just aren't in here.  I guess the quantity doesn't matter."  At the very least we can tag it as a social experiment. 

S/n: The theme park is called Magic Kingdom. Duh!

Secret Admirers - A Valentine's Day Myth Exposed

Bouquet.jpg

Ever watch a romantic comedy where the main character receives an anonymous Valentine's Day gift? You're usually rooting for this protagonist. She's probably a bit quirky, and has struggled with dating throughout the duration of the film. Usually she sniffs the bouquet from her unknown Prince Charming, sappy music plays and she's happy as a clam that someone was thinking about her.

Alright folks, end scene. I'm here to tell you that this doesn't exactly happen that way in real life. This past Friday (Valentine's Day), our receptionist called me at about noon asking me to come to her desk. I desperately tried to get her to say whatever she had to say over the phone. No dice. I made my way over to her area, located in another building, and she pointed to a beautiful bouquet. My mouth dropped. Who would have sent such an elaborate arrangement to me on Valentine's Day? Smiling and skipping happily back to my office, a sick feeling began to form in the pit of my stomach that stopped me in my tracks. No really, who would have sent such an elaborate arrangement to me on Valentine's Day???

My staff immediately oohed & ahhed over the flowers. They could tell, though, that I wasn't so enthusiastic about my "secret admirer". They tried to comfort me by saying it was probably a "special somebody" in my life. I shrugged that notion off, but sent a text to the only person who would have had any remote reason to send me a V-day gift. A few awkward texts later, and it became clear that he was not my suitor.

I then called the florist to see if they could help me out. The man who answered the phone literally said, "We work for the sender, not the receiver." Ugh! That sick feeling stayed in the pit of my stomach for a good portion of the afternoon. This probably sounds weird - single, dating blogger chick searching for "the one"... yet scared of a little romance? It's not that simple, though.

I literally have NO CLUE who sent the flowers. Worst yet, I tend to attract creeps. If you've been reading along then you know I don't come across many "normies". If not, read a few stories then come back to this one. You'll get it. In any event, kicking up my heels in glee and sniffing the roses wasn't exactly my reaction. Nope. Instead I peeked out of my office window every couple of minutes and held my car key between my index and middle finger while walking in the parking lot.

Now I can't really blame this mystery gentleman for his nice gesture. I mean, it's what we're taught right? Women love surprises. They love the anonymity and suspense associated with having a secret admirer. Their perfect mate is waiting in the wings to sweep them off of their feet to live happily ever after! In reality, it's really freaking creepy. I don't want to sound ungrateful...the flowers were beautiful (see picture above). I'm sure this person didn't want to weird me out. However, for the love of Tim Horton's coffee, tread carefully. From the few clues I was able to gather, the person didn't know me very well. He probably should have felt me out a little bit more before going for the gusto. It's also probably a good idea to identify yourself at some point. Jussayin'.

I do appreciate the gesture. I rarely ever get V-day gifts from an admirer. In fact, I decked myself out in grey leggings, combat boots and a black hoodie preparing to fight off an entire day of watching people receive gifts from their significant others. The hopeless romantic in me threw a red shirt on underneath the hoodie. Even on my darkest days, I can never be too hard on love ;-).

Have you ever had a secret admirer surface on V-Day?  How did you respond?