Random Esquire

How did your parents meet each other?

My father was in the army and was stationed overseas. He met my mother through a friend.  They were married on an army base.

That’s the short and sweet of it.  I thought of it recently because it occurred to me that everyone in my family seems drawn to someone of a different ethnic background.  If you take either of my parents, my sister or me – each of us is married to (or, in my case, dating) someone with a different first language.

I attribute this to the fact that in order for anyone to tolerate dating someone in the family, he or she needs to have the option of chalking up half of the crap that comes out of our mouths to a “lost in translation” type of misunderstanding.  Because not only are the first languages different from our own – none of them are alike.

We like DIFFERENT.

So, I’m curious… How did your parents meet? Are they pretty alike? or different?

I tried to explain flirting to QTMama today.

I said, “If a woman puts my hand on her boob, then I know she’s interested.”

I went on to explain that if I squeeze it, that means I am interested, too.

However, if I am not interested, then I fake a grand mal seizure.

This is so I can still squeeze her boob but then topple over on to the ground.

I don’t think she understood, though, because she mentioned our plan on getting married at 50 if we’re both still single.  (We also discussed my work bonus.)  The conversation took a turn for the worse.  Witness:

QTMama:  DUDE.  I JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING.

RE:  WHAT.

QTMama:  When we get married?! That BONUS IS HALF MINE! WOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOOO

RE:  You can’t tell, but I’m staring at you.

QTMama:  Because we are both stupid so of course we will be single at 50. YOU SEE?!  This works out SO WELL.

RE:  I’m going to spend all my money on hookers, blow and race cars before we get married. Cause by then your vagina will be large enough to serve as a two car garage.

QTMama:  SO? You will love me nonetheless

RE:  Well, sure, you’ll be keeping the rain spots off my cars.

QTMama:  You know what. I don’t care if my vag is the size of a garage. You WILL LOVE IT. Cuz that’s how IT goes. And don’t be thinking you can hit on other women when we get married either.

help.

“People need a little loving and, God, sometimes

it’s sad the shit they have to go through to find some.”

Richard Brautigan

1.  I was recently expressing some melancholy to a friend about the frustration, sadness, helplessness and sometimes hopelessness of loving another person.  I am, for better or for worse, cursed with an ability to see the lighter side of just about everything in life – in those situations where laughing may be the only substitute for crying.  And I don’t cry.

As I sat there and let loose things that had been on my mind and unloaded what has been feeling like a heaviness, I began to feel a little lighter.  And then my friend, in sincere and utter honesty, and pure fellowship of being said:

“Love.  What a cunt.”

And the pure truth of it, the shock of it – made me laugh so hard that any tear I might shed made itself known then, in the midst of laughing with a friend.

And then in what seemed like an utter release, she said, “God.  I love that word.”

Which made me laugh even harder.  It was, however, the next line that pushed me over the edge:

“I smell T-shirts!  Finally, my millions!”

2.  Today, I listened to QTMama discuss her own frustrations about love and relationships.  And again, in the midst of genuine sadness and frustration, though not my own, I found myself laughing with someone else who also sometimes laughs at these moments of earnest emotion.  I listened as QT expressed her frustration at not finding someone.

She asked, “What is wrong with me?  It’s been two years.”

I said, “You will not like my answer.”

*silence*

I said, “There is nothing wrong with you.”

And then…. QT said, “I haven’t had sex in forever, I regrew my hymen last week.”

*Blink*

And then I just burst out laughing.  I said, “You cannot say shit like that!”

She said, “What? About what?”

“ABOUT YOUR HYMEN,” I yelled, “That shit doesn’t happen!”

She said, “IT DOES….

…well, not really.  But FIGURATIVELY SPEAKING.”

I couldn’t stop laughing.

And she said, “I am now WITH hymen again.”

She continued, “It’s my hymen, me…and I’ll get some cats.”

I said, “You should write this shit.”

She said, “Because the world should know that I haven’t had sex in YEARS?”

I said, “It hasn’t been years!”

QT said, “Yes it has…

…Figuratively speaking.”

I said, “You can’t make everything you say true by adding ‘figuratively speaking‘ to the end of it!”

Then I said, “This conversation cracks me up. Can I blog this? Pleasepleaseplease?”

QT shouted, “OKAYFINE.”

And there you have it.

“Love is all fire; and so heaven and hell are the same place.”

Norman O. Brown

I’ve had this conversation a few times with women – about breasts and what makes for nice breasts.  I can only tell you my own observations and opinions on this topic and naturally, I am a little tongue in cheek about it.  But…as far as I can tell, there are three overall things that might define nice breasts – in order – from least important to most important.

Size

Size matters.  But probably not as much as I once thought that it did.  Size makes a difference.  But probably not as much as other things.

It may seem like the attraction to breasts is purely based upon size but that’s probably a gross oversimplification.  It’s just that breast size is the most obvious thing about them.  Large breasts usually have some movement to them and, like a dinosaur, it’s the movement that captures the the eye.  But really?  I don’t have a walnut sized dinosaur brain and I can see things that aren’t swaying with every step.

At one point in my life, I thought that C-cups were sort of perfect.  Not too big, not too small.  Perfect!  Then I met and fell in love with a woman with DD breasts.  And I’ll be damned if they weren’t perfect.  Then along into my life came a series of women with B-cups.  And my god, those were perfect, too.  Saying that you love breasts but only large breasts is like saying you love women but only love blondes.

I sometimes refer to breasts as … a snack tray.  Yes, I realize that makes me sound a little bit like an asshole.  But it isn’t entirely off base.  They are like a snack.  Like an appetizer.  An amuse bouche, if you will.  Something to whet the appetite.  Something that makes you hungry for more.

Which leads us to …

(more…)

1.  I am working today – on MLK Day.  Best thing I heard?

“I think all somewhat brown people should have today off. I’m so annoyed that I’m sitting at my desk.”

Amen.

2.  QTMama and I may, in fact, be getting married at age 50.  Not the best weekend for either of us.  However, she sent me a message that did make me laugh.

“I read eight books in four days. Have not turned on the tv in days. Is the world okay?”

3.  I’ve decided I want to try my hand at nude photography.

That is the type of sentence that needs all kinds of clarification.  I have decided I would like to try my skills at photographing nude subjects.  There isn’t really any way to tell someone you’d like to try this without sounding at least slightly like a douchebag.

4.  Do you ever have an ache of sorts and it feels like someone is jabbing a finger in it and making it worse? And then you realize OH, IT IS YOURSELF.

5.  I am going to write an entry on breast size.  I don’t know why I feel like I have to brace people for that.

1.  Remember how I got my parents new phones and an unlimited text plan?  My father has been trying to teach my mother how to send text messages.  By “trying to teach”, I mean “forcing her to learn”.

Today, he forwarded a message to me and said, “This is mom’s first text message to me.”

It said: “You drive me craze.”

English is her second language.  I sort of think it’s the best text message ever.

2.  A friend of mine recently lost her father.  This is the same close friend whose cousins drove their father’s ashes around in a Nieman-Marcus bag in the trunk of their car.  Needless to say, the family has a wild side and a very good sense of humor.  Her father was also quite the character.

I had flowers sent for his service and was understandably upset when a friend told me that they had not arrived.  I called the florist, left a message and a half hour later, got a call back.  The flowers had been delivered to the wrong funeral.

See, the thing is - I had them write a message on the card.   And this means… that someone else’s funeral had flowers at them with a card that said:

“WHAT A PISTOL.”

All I could think was that I hope it wasn’t a gunshot victim.

3.  My dinner last night – fondly nicknamed my Lady Date by Dysfunction Junction – was awesome.  The restaurant is always so gracious and awesome. Kitchen / Back of House tour ended the evening.  Evening started, however, with a gift which shall heretofore be known as LADY DATE PENELOPE.

It’s a heart picture frame in which they’d placed a picture of Penelope Cruz.  I shall be taking her to different locations and taking picture of her like she’s the Travelocity Garden Gnome.

1.  It’s obvious when I’m over-thinking anything.  I stop writing.  Clearly, clearly, the writing I do takes really, just the barest minimum of thought.  Minimal thought = de rigueur to write or read RandomEsq.

2.  You know what I’m eating?

Birthday cake.  Random FTW!

You know how QT wished me a happy birthday?

“Happy Birthday, Retard.”

Like I said, folks – a minimal amount of thought is good.

3.  I put my parents on my mobile phone plan and got them each new phones with a keyboard. Then I got them unlimited text messaging.  And then I got my first text message from them.

“hi.”

Well, that’s proven useful.

4.  I have four dates tomorrow night.

That’s right.

Four.

Well, I’m taking four ladies to dinner.  Not four different dinners. I couldn’t eat four dinners in a row.  Or even out of a row.

I let the chef know I was coming and bringing four attractive women with me.  He’s going to demand two of them.  I’ll let him choose which two he’d like.

And then I’ll take one back as a finder’s fee.

And he’ll only get one.

And I will get three.

And it will be RANDOM FTW!

5.  Well, after that brief week of nearly no writing… I do believe I am back in the saddle again.

Remember the other day when I asked what your Dating Style is?  What one characteristic about you attracted people the most?  I’m not sure I’m in love with QT’s answer for what was my most attractive characteristic because it makes me sound like …well, …like an attorney.  Of all the nerve.

Well, the other day, I may have said that women should come with disclaimers or warning labels.  This became a bit of a twitter discussion and it was decided that everyone should come with a Dating Disclaimer.

Beth suggested that mine would say, “I’m fun.  But exceedingly selective.”

I’m not sure that the women I have dated would agree with this.  So, I decided I’d give it a go and write down what I think the last few women I’ve dated (and written about here) would say should be my Dating Disclaimer:

Besos:  “Breast maniac.  Busy with side hobbies and activities to the point that you may feel unimportant.”

Plush:  “Breast obsessed.”

Boss:  “Surprisingly may not buy you the 3 carat ring you picked out.  Also, breast crazy.”

Honestly? if I had to come up with a genuine disclaimer about myself and dating…it think it might say:

Warning:  Too Literal.

What can I say?  It’s a problem.

So, fess up, folks.  What’s your Dating Disclaimer?

1.  This morning, a friend sent this tweet: “I do it once a season: I’ll catch Josh Groban singing O Holy Night and by the second bar I’m sobbing and have nearly blown out my speakers.”

I responded, “That sort of made me laugh and then feel badly about it after.” I’m telling you, if I saw that happen, I wouldn’t be able to help myself.  I’d laugh.  In fact, I sort of feel like playing the song the next time I see my friend.

And then I realized that shameful laughter is really the best.  The kind where you’re laughing because it’s funny but also just slightly nervous that someone will call you out on in.  Sort of like QT laughing when people fall down. Or like Two Assholes Talking in which we may have said a woman looked like a Dr. Seuss Who.  You sort of feel badly.  But not enough not to laugh.

2.  Someone pointed out to me that all the women in my life lived in a constant state of limbo between laughing and crying.  I found this strangely rewarding.  I’m sure, however, that if you asked Besos or Boss, they might not quite see it that way.  Plush, however, would probably delightfully clap her hands.  Women are complicated.

3.  I have a Playlist on my iPod that includes: Fortunate Son, Give Peace a Chance, Run Through the Jungle, You Really Got Me, War (What is it good for?) and Imagine.  My neighbor was over and heard it and looked at my iPod in the player and said, “You named the playlist… The Hanoi Hilton Remix?”    And see, this is why I don’t listen to music. Everyone’s a critic.

Remember how I said that I was going to give up chasing women and just let someone seduce me?  I’m failing miserably.  What can I say?  I like to chase.

Anyway, in a somewhat related conversation, I asked QT what adjective she’d use to describe her dating style.  Not necessarily how you see yourself but what is it that tends to draw people to you.  What over-arching characteristic about you tends to attract people?  For example, I think that when people see QT, they think: “FUN.”  That’s the word that first pops into my head.  She’s usually laughing or, at the very least, has a smile on her face.  That kind of energy attracts people to her.

I asked her what word she’s use for me.

She thought and said, “So, what is the ONE word that describes a…”

I listened closely and was pleased to hear her say “self aware, financially stable,…”

and then it went downhill.

“…boob loving, motorboating, does-not-put-up-with-women-emotions-but-dates-women kind of person?”

I’m sure I curled my lip a little.

I said, “EVOLVED?  It is EVOLVED?”

And then she said this:

“Well, I don’t think anyone would look at you and say FUN.”

*Blink*

I had to laugh because I think the first thing most people learn about me is that I have an active sense of humor.  I find pretty much everything around me amusing on some level.  And, just to clarify – I actually tend to find emotional women very attractive.  I just have limits.  They are high – but they are there.  *cough*

Anyway, we did not come up with a good one for me.   We tentatively agreed on ‘politely aggressive’ but that makes me sound a little like an ape with some manners and doesn’t really answer the question, I don’t think.  I like to think that I’m very respectful of women.  Maybe that is my style?  I don’t know what my style would be because, well, I think I’d have to ask the women I’ve dated.

As for styles I like? I suppose it depends and evolves as I do.  Strong, confident women are attractive – especially if they are teasing me just a bit.  I enjoy a good tease because I like to chase.  No one wants to chase someone in a straight line until they catch them.  That’s call catching up.  I like to chase.

I think I just decided that I’m respectfully aggressive.  I’m a socially conscious ape.  Fabulous.

So how would you describe your dating style? What is it about you that you think attracts people to you? Is there a particular over-arching personality trait that you find irresistible in someone?