Valentine's Day with the Lonely Hearts Club

Picture and shirt available at

Picture and shirt available at

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, 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!

Love, Licking & Betrayal

Picture from

Picture from

Last night, my friend *Jen was hanging out at a club after an event we attended pondering whether she should stay.  A guy, who contained many of the qualities she appreciated in an initial encounter, approached her.  He was smart, witty, personable and not bad on the eyes.  He had her at hello.  Needless to say, her decision was made.

At the top of their conversation he requested complete candidness.  He told her, “You just be you, I’ll be me and we’ll get to know each other.  No pretenses.”  She was thrilled!  It’s not every day that you meet someone who fits your prototype of a picture-perfect guy and values transparency.  She found it refreshing.

Throughout the night, shots upon shots of top shelf liquor allowed for more free flowing conversation.  She basked in the glow of his swagger.  He entertained her with funny anecdotes and lighthearted teasing.  His charm and quick wittedness continued to intrigue her as he flashed her award-winning smiles. 

It came time for him to leave.  They exchanged phone numbers.   Jen departed shortly thereafter.  As she was driving in the parking lot, she almost ran him over with her car!  Dressed in all black, she didn’t see him at first.  His close encounter with the pearly gates seemed not to faze him.  He knocked on her window.  She rolled it down.  Their flirtatious banter continued…then it happened. 

Our gentleman caller leaned in for a kiss.  She turned her head, so the end result was a kiss on the side of her mouth leading to an aggressive tongue rolling up the middle of her cheek.  Gross!  Licks on the side of the face should have a three date minimum.

Jen texted him when she got home.  The licking might have been weird, but she decided not to write him off so easily.  He responded to her text with a phone call.  He stated that he rode with a friend who was dropping him off home.  Once there, he agreed to call her back so they could arrange a perfect ending to their almost perfect evening…with more conversation.

Now, remember that part where I said there were shots involved?  We-ell, they took their toll on Jen.  She fell asleep on top of her phone.  She woke up this morning to a flashing voicemail light.  A bit dazed and confused, she groggily picked up her phone and punched in the voicemail code.  He called – just like he said he would!

Perfect-club guy:  “It was so great talking to you.  I had a really fun time this evening.  I just wanted to tell you, don’t call this number back.  I’m in the process of changing it.  I can’t wait until we connect again!”

Jen thought to herself, “How odd?  I lost a phone number within a few hours of getting it.  That’s a first.”  During the course of their conversation, they had also exchanged Instagram handles.  She transitioned into PI mode.  The explanation for his abrupt message became clear.  Mr. Lick-your-face was actually in a relationship – a serious one.

There are several adjectives that come to mind.  Creep tends to stand out more than the rest.  So through all of that “candid” conversation, it never occurred to him to mention he had a girlfriend.   And how would she feel about his “tongue & cheek” act?  Shenanigans.  I won’t get all preachy on why he was wrong because it’s pretty obvious. The whole debacle does leave me with one crucial question though: I wonder if he licks his girlfriend’s face too?

Girls' Night Out - Part Two (It's Taylor's)

Girls' Night Out.jpg

Last Saturday, I regaled you with my tale of "romance on the dance floor" in Part One of Girls' Night Out.  However, Slick Rick's fancy footwork was simply the introduction to our night.  Taylor's is a place people go to let loose...and let loose they did.  Without further ado, here is another glimpse into my night out on the town. 

Taylor's has two dance floors.  One typically plays Top 40 music while the other tends to have classics from the 80's and 90's.  I love the classics but couldn't really get into the groove of things.  Then it hit me.  They hadn't played any Michael Jackson!  The DJ was taking requests so I slipped into his booth to make mine.  He smiled at me saying, "What do you think I'm playing next?"  Kismet!  Unfortunately, I forgot to check his ring finger. 

Sure enough, my mental love affair with the DJ was not in vain.  The opening bass line to "Billie Jean" filled the room.  Not only was he playing MJ, but he was playing my all-time favorite, super mo-jo song.  I've played this song to prepare for finals, job interviews, first dates and other important moments in my life.  It holds significance.  I swept my feet to the beat and pulled out every MJ Experience for Wii move I could conjure up.  Somehow I ended up moonwalking into an innocent bystander.  He understood.  It is Taylor's after all.   

Jen and I ventured to the more modern dance floor to see what they had to offer.  There were a few people dancing, but we decided to play it cool for a bit.  That was until "The Cupid Shuffle" came on.  An entire room breaking out into a synchronized dance number is irresistible.  We had to join in.  All was well until a 4 inch stiletto met my left foot.  That's my sliding foot for crying out loud!  The offender apologized.  I shrugged my shoulders, smiled at her and limped my way through the rest of the dance number.  After all, it is Taylor's.  The show must go on. My toe is expected to make a full recovery.

A few songs later, we were still going strong in the Top 40 room.  Jen kept motioning for me to look over at a gentleman across the dance floor.  Being over six feet tall, Jen catches all the good stuff.  At 5'4, I appear to be her Cabbage Patch Kid sidekick and can only catch the action when she sits me on her shoulders.   Apparently the gentleman in question grabbed his dance partner's hair and sniffed it as she walked away.  They didn't come together and we were pretty sure he didn't know her. A little weird.  But hey, it's Taylor's.

All in all, it was a night well spent. 

S/n:  I spent a good portion of my day battling a migraine. I celebrated its departure by purchasing a slice of my all time fave Kahlua Cocoa Coffee Cheesecake.  After losing 34 pounds this year, I don't think I've loathed myself and loved life so much at the same time.