Random Esquire

I leave for the Bahamas in a few days.  Chicago is far more bearable in the winter time if you simply leave it a few days.  In May, Besos and I are heading to Costa Rica for some beach time, as well.  I began to wonder where else I’d like to go.  And I remembered, years ago, telling my aunt that I wanted to see the pyramids and cruise down the Nile.  She looked at me in complete surprise and said she had no desire to travel and didn’t care if she didn’t see the pyramids.  This baffles me.

I’ve had it in my head that I just can’t die without seeing some blasted pyramids.  It just seems…unfair somehow.  But I hadn’t really thought about doing something about it until tonight.  I started to poke around on Tripadvisor and then on Trafalgartours and decided that it is time to make the magic happen.  So I immediately pinged Besos, Chris, and Bev.

Egypt and Nile Cruise.  We’re going.

Besos – Sorry to spring this on you last minute.

Chris – Dude, I totally knew you’d dig it.

Bev – I promise pharmaceutical products.  And this gives us (and by ‘us’, I mean you and me) tons of time to overplan the shit out of things.

Who else is in?

I got my hair cut a couple of weeks ago.  The Bumper was there.  In case you are unfamiliar with The Bumper…she is the woman who washes my hair before I get it cut and… she bumps me.  With them.  It’s simply fantastic.  Besos got her hair cut today (at a different place).  Our conversation went something like this:

Besos:  “You’d have liked the girl who did my hair.  Long legs…blonde…”  (Besos is convinced I have a thing for blondes despite my protests that it is just coincidence that the 27 women I dated before her were blondes.)

Me:  “But did she bump you with them?”

Besos:  “Uh, no.”

Me:  “Then what’s the point?!”

Besos:  “Do you tip The Bumper?”

Me:  “Of course!”

*pause*

“…I mean…not that well…”

Besos:  “I’ll wash your hair.”

Me:  “It’s not the same!”

Besos: “I KNOW!”

Then she giggled and groaned all at once.  Grin and bear it, baby.

Edited to add:  Besos sent me a text to tell me that she loved me and to say good night.  It’s 9 p.m.  I couldn’t believe she was already going to bed so I responded, “FOR REAL?”  She, however, thought I was questioning her love for me so she responded, “Honey…I just read your blog…so I take it back.”  I said, “HEY!”  She wrote back, “You want some bumpin’ from these babies, you best behave!”

Smackdown.

On the topic of eating people…Issei Sagawa.  Japanese dude.  Killed and ate a girl in Paris.  Now lives in Tokyo.  He did an interview – he’s done many and written more than a few books about the experience (one entitled Excuse Me for Living) – in which he giggles over the fact that he’s crazy…while he shows the reporter a picture of himself hunched over a naked body with a knife and fork in his hands.  Yup, clip included (NSFW).  His bit begins at 1:13.

*crosses Tokyo off list of places to take Besos on vacation*

I was on Amazon and did a search for “logic puzzles.”

Amazon listed related searches as:  “logic problems” and “logic puzzles for kids” and…

“what’s wrong with eating people”

*Blink*

WTF.

1.  Last night, I tasted sushi made by reality TV folks:  Road Rules, Survivor, Shear Genius, Project Runway, and the Bachelorette.  I’m not going to lie to you.  None of it was all that good.  I left one on my plate that looked a bit as though the roll from which it’d been cut had been shot through one of those tubes at the bank drive-up.  The girl who won?  She was Playmate of the Month a few years ago.

It wasn’t a blind tasting, folks.

Amen.

2.  Besos reminded me today that I woke her up last night because she’d been gently snoring.  I grinned and said, “Ohhh yeah!”  I had forgotten about it.  She said, “Although, I find it funny that you grabbed my butt to wake me.”

I didn’t remember that, either, but congratulated my subconscious on its ability to take matters into its own hands.

3.  Speaking of Besos, she spent some time the other day explaining to me why Mexican women make good wives.  She was not petitioning me, mind you, but rather explaining the cultural differences between Mexican women and American women (not that American women make bad wives but you get my point).  While she is an American, Besos grew up in Mexico and she was careful to point that she is not a Chicana but, rather, a Mexican woman.  She ended by saying, “We stand by our man!”

I, naturally, and despite my dislike for country music, got excited to introduce her to something truly American and so I asked her if she’d ever heard that song.  She said no.  So I crooned, “Stttannnndd byyy yoouuurrrr maaaannnnn…and show the world you love him!” in my best Tammy Wynette.

I won’t lie.  She looked horrified.

4.  Besos told me that Little Filthy is basically me but in dog form.   I squinted.  She said, “You know…He doesn’t hide his feelings,…it’s like you…no smoke and mirrors.”  At this point, he was crawling all over her and sticking his cold nose in her ear and chomping on her hair as she lay in bed.  I said, “We could probably both use a little smoke and mirrors.”

She expanded her point to add that he misbehaves and is rotten but you can’t help but love him and he asks for affection and company whenever he wants it and…he humps things if he thinks they’ll be taken away.

I’m not entirely sure where the flattery ended and the insult began but it’s in there.  Somewhere.

1.  I found Little Filthy in the bedroom with his head buried in my winter coat which I had lazily thrown to the floor in an effort to peel off layers.  I heard crunching noises and yelled, “Hey!”  He jerked out his head out of my coat pocket.  I leaned down and he licked me.  He smelled like menthol.  Yeah. He found a Halls cough drop. The other day, I brought in some groceries and set a bag down on the ground while I ran to grab more things from the hallway.  I returned to find Little Filthy muzzle-deep in a container of blueberries.  No good can come of this.

2. Besos and I have been dating nearly 3 months.  Okay, more like 7 months but I kicked and screamed the first 4 months so that doesn’t really count.  Having been around the block a few times, I’ve finally learned what everyone says over and over.  The big thing is communication.  So I proposed an idea to Besos and she readily agreed to it.  Basically, once a month, we have a very frank, 100% honest, 100% judgment free conversation on the state of affairs.  Good or bad.  General rule is that it doesn’t happen in bed because I couldn’t take her seriously with that grin always on her face.

bu-dum-bump. *rimshot*

3. I’m judging a contest for charity on Wednesday night.  The contestants?  Reality television ’stars’.  So far, I know about 3 contestants – one each from The Bachelorette, Survivor, and Project Runway.  Not sure about the others.  Should be interesting.

4.  That reminds me…I stupidly agreed to be a contestant in a contest in February.  Doing what?  Mixing a cocktail.  It is going to be tragic.  But it is for charity so it’s the kind of tragedy I can get behind.

I have tried to continue with that random act of kindness stuff.  So far, I’ve bought coffee or a bagel for the person ahead or behind me in a line.  I gave up on the idea of complimenting people randomly because I figured I’d come off as a weirdo whereas people are generally not too offended if you buy them a bagel.  It’s like the international symbol of peace.  Free bagel!  Free coffee!  And my other routine is to give my handwarmers to the same homeless woman I pass on the same corner as I walk to the office.  By that time, I’m only a few blocks from the office and they’re good for another couple of hours so it makes sense to give them away.  If she’s not there, I give them to a street cop or our doorman at the office.

Besos and I went out to eat the other night at a Vietnamese restaurant because she was craving Pho.  Four young men came into the restaurant and sat down at the table next to ours.  They grinned and pointed to things at the menu, curious and eager to try something new.  One of them caught my eye and asked what I was eating and then said it looked good.  They were polite to the Vietnamese woman who came to take their order, despite her clearly not fully understanding them as they ordered in a bit of disarray.  I watched them a bit.  Very young.  I liked that they seemed a friendly bunch.  I looked up at Besos and said, “Should I do a random act of kindness?”  She said, “I don’t know what you mean.”  I said, “I’m leaving it to you.”  She said, “Then I have to say yes.”  So I went up to the cashier and paid for their dinner. I hadn’t meant for her to say anything to them and Besos and I were preparing to leave but the server/cashier went to their table and told them I paid.  They looked up at me in surprise and thanked me.

Turns out they are all in the military.  For some reason, that just choked me up a little.  I don’t even know these young kids but my skeptic heart said a little prayer for them.

I recently told the story of my first date/kiss with Besos.  She decided a quick chronicle of some of her silent thoughts during that evening was warranted and provided me with a list to share:

• Hmm… a little taller than I imagined.
• Shouldn’t we be splitting the check, if this is not a date?
• Cellphone junky…CHECK
• Dammit.  I should have only had ONE glass of wine instead of two…
• Are you staring down my shirt?! ….Nahhhh
• I like RE’s friends; they are funny.
• Hmmm, well, I guess it would be okay to stop at the loft.  Seems harmless enough, right?
• Clean apartment…2 points!
• Cute dog!…2 points.
• I look like a news anchor?
• You want to kiss me?  *Blink*
• Was this a date?
• What floor are we on?
• Soft hands…good kisser…
• Smart
• Funny
• Maybe I’ll let you kiss me again…
• DID YOU JUST TOUCH MY ASS?!

Okay, now, I would just like to clarify why it is that Besos asked herself if she looked like a news anchor…see, the thing is, I didn’t have the good sense not to tell her why I had just decided to kiss her.  Instead, because she’d looked so gobsmacked, I took it upon myself to explain my train of thought to her so she could see why I’d suddenly been moved with the urge to kiss her.  Yeah.  I probably left that part out of my story, huh?  Frankly, it’s a wonder her eyes didn’t roll out of her head.

1.  Thank you all for the birthday wishes.  I am, in fact, a year older.  It’s okay, though.  I mean, I did have a year to get used to the idea.

2.  Kennedy came into my office yesterday and said, “Happy Birthday!”  I looked up from my desk and said, “How the hell did you know?”  He said, “I’ve been getting reminders for a week.  You put it on my calendar.“  Apparently I put it on Instigator’s calendar, as well, as she said she’s been getting reminders for the past week, too.  Sometimes it is just bet to take matters in your own hands.  At least, that must have been what I was thinking last year when I did it.

3.  Besos made me an excellent dinner last night.  I tasted about 1/100 of it.  That is because we had the fantastic idea that we should drink prior to dinner.  I recall numb lips as I ate.  I suppose I could never be an alcoholic.  Cross that one off the list.

4.  Sushi tasting on Monday night.  Be back with pictures!

I just asked Besos if I’d ever told the story of us meeting on my blog and we both realized that I hadn’t.  I’m going to warn you that if you have this image of me as anything but a bumbling idiot, you’re going to be disappointed.

So!  Besos and I met each other on what she now declares was not a date.   Anyway – we met at a coffee shop on our first non-date and walked around at a street fair.  She was rather quiet and seemed shy.  We met up with some friends of mine and made our way to a wine bar.  I did not know until later that Besos overheard me whisper to my friend that I was trying to make a point of not letting my eyes wander down her low cut shirt.  I’m smooth like that.

Anyway, Besos got drunk.  My loft was just a few blocks away and we walked there so she could sober up a bit before driving home. We sat down on the couch and began to talk.  And this is where I sort of lost anything resembling a game plan.  She was talking about something.  I don’t know what.  I really couldn’t have told you because I was only half listening.  (Hey, you want the harsh truth of a first date story, you’ve come to the right place.)  Instead of fully paying attention, I was looking at her and trying to decide …well, look, people, I’m just going to relay my idiotic train of thought as closely as I can remember it.  It went something like this:

“I wonder how this is going.  Hm.  I wonder how she thinks this is going.  I’m not sure.  She did come back to my place.  Of course, she was also tipsy and did not have much choice.  That’s a nice shirt on her.  That white looks good against her skin.  What did she just say?  I should probably nod.  You know, she sort of looks like a television news anchor.  Yes, I could see her being a new anchor.  I bet if she was a news anchor, people watching would have crushes on her.  Hm, I probably would.  Hey! It’s like I have the local news anchor on my couch right now! And I could kiss her!”

And then, without thinking any further, I said simply, “I’d like to kiss you.”

She looked gobsmacked.  She said, “What?”

I said, “I’d like to kiss you.”  And then I leaned forward across the couch and… I kissed her.

It was very uneventful.  I know.  It’s sort of shocking to hear because people always tell ‘first kiss’ stories like they were made of butterscotch and brandy.  Not so here.  Mainly because I was thinking about kissing a news anchor and she was thinking, “Who the hell do you think you are?”  It was a brief kiss.

Needless to say, it didn’t really answer any questions for me on where this was going.  She seemed…reserved and shy still.  We talked some more and then I walked her a few blocks back to her car.  She opened the door and half sat inside before she stood back up inside the open car door, looked at me and said, “So…um….you’ll call me?  I ..call you?”  I suddenly realized that she was really wondering if I would call her.  That’s a horrible thing to wonder, isn’t it?  So I walked over, put a hand on her hip, kissed her softly and said, “I will call you tomorrow.”

She got in her car and drove away.  I walked home wondering a bit if she had really wanted that last kiss or if I’d completely misread the situation.  I did not wonder long.  I got a text message that said, “Sorry for being so shy.  But thank you for being so forward.”

I high-fived myself.

So there you have it.  We laugh about it now.  I may not be able to look back on that kiss with the rose colored idea of kismet.  But I do remember the first time she kissed me, dug her fingers in my hair and my toes melted inside my shoes and I knew I was in trouble.  On that note…there’s a news anchor in my shower who needs a back scrub.