You said you want to see the world…I said go
I have half-way fallen in love with someone I met online, the idea of him anyway…a guy I can’t even convince to come to Massachusetts. I always thought I was someone to be cherished, that one day my knight in shining armor would find me, like Richard Gere came for Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman (without the prostitution). My Texan/Virginian/Arizonian hoped-for savior has gone silent, and I’ve cried through Thanksgiving, with only a cold and miserable New England winter to look forward to.
Yesterday I went to the Brimfield Flea Market (by myself). Dozens if not hundreds of gay couples there, lookin’ all domestic and happy and slightly overweight because they have found someone who loves them just the way they are. Bastards. It’s Mother’s Day weekend and I am sad and super lonely…also have a small belly that I cultivated this winter (in preparation for domesticity) that won’t go away. The flea market is huge, I spent most of the day there, although my only purchase was a $1 lazy eyed panda? figurine…oh and $5 for a latte, $6 for kettle corn, $6 for hot fried cinnamon sugar donut holes, and $7 for a smoked sausage dog.
I hope my Anderson Cooper finds me soon…would settle for Bill Nye or John Oliver though. The pics I took are kind of my personality: uniquely different, a bit weird, definitely not some boring and vanilla bullshit. There are also a couple of pics of this super cute dad I was following around, and some disturbingly racist pics that I felt needed to be seen because Black Lives Matter. Dear Mr. Right, hurry the fuck up and find me!
I read Moby’s memoir yesterday, and put some of his songs on to go to sleep to last night. In My Heart was playing as I feel asleep, and I dream-heard it throughout the night, thinking about the person who is finding my heart.
“Lord, I want to be up in my heart
Lord, I want to be up in my heart
Lord, I want to be up in my heart
Lord, I want to be up in my heart
Be, ohh, just in my heart, oh Lord
Just in my heart, oh Lord
Be, ohh, just in my heart, oh Lord
Just in my heart, oh Lord”
Read more: Moby – In My Heart Lyrics | MetroLyrics
So I’m doing my laundry at Fabulous Coin Laundry on N Federal (yesss it’s gay). I put my clothes in the dryer and walk across the street to Barnes & Nobles. I pluck Writer’s Digest & Writer’s Yearbook from the magazine rack and have a seat. I immediately notice this guy. He’s sitting on the floor Indian-style in one of the aisles, studiously typing on his laptop. He’s very cute, 50-ish, maybe 5’7, glasses, salt & pepper hair, yes please.
Maybe he’s lonely. Maybe he’s always wanted to co-parent two wild, bad-ass furry gremlins. Maybe he’s straight?
I walk to the bathroom and give myself a once-over, and don’t like what I see. I need a haircut. I haven’t been sleeping well and my eyes look tired, plus one of them is bigger than the other (a sure sign of sleep deprivation). I don’t feel cute and I don’t have that spark or energy that I would need to walk up and loom over this guy and introduce myself out of the blue…so that ain’t happenin.’ I scribble out a note saying hello with my blog address and a request to check it out after 7 p.m. (15 minutes from now). I pace back and forth for like 5 minutes until I decide on a young mother with a sleeping toddler who’s sitting at one of the tables reading a book. “Hello there, in the spirit of Valentine’s Day would you please give that man this note from me, once I am out of the store? ” She says she will and like my idol Sweet Brown I ran up outta there. Hopefully she wasn’t homophobic and didn’t just threw the note in the trash… Cupid hook me up please.
Maybe this guy is my soulmate but he’s super shy and insecure and maybe not real comfortable with his sexuality yet and has noticed how cute I am and wants me real bad and maybe he has just adopted a little Asian baby for us and maybe he’s working on his soon-to-be published novel that will catapult us to West Hollywood and maybe he has a washer and dryer at his house and maybe he has a sweet tooth and keeps his industrial size freezer fully stocked with Ben & Jerry’s and Haagen-Dazs. Plus he’s obviously limber and spry as he is observably able to sit in the floor for long stretches, no worry about a broken hip or anything like that.
Maybe he’s sweet and patient and kind. Maybe he’s the one.
Let me see, it’s Valentine’s Day….I have $23 in my checking and $19 cash. I would like to be treated to a nice dinner this evening, somewhere all romantic and whatnot, please and thank you…hmm. I have to do my laundry, clean underwear being a necessity on the dating scene, so that’s $16 at le laundromat. I have to get my hair cut, the hair on the sides of my head is sticking out everywhichaway, and they are predominantly grey…no, no, gots to go, $22. In good conscious I simply cannot go out on a date with $4 in my pocket, what should I do? Clean underwear is a tenet I live by, off to the washateria, maybe I can gel my hair down or bouffant it up into a beehive or something. Now I am simply waiting for a man to ask me out on date! and come get me and pay for dinner w/dessert…and maybe roses?
I went to the DHR website to peruse the social work jobs…not bad. I did a lot of growing up in Birmingham, I hear it kind of calling me to come back…My decades-long unrequited love WK still lives like 5 minutes from the home I grew up in…his children are almost grown and gone, he has to be lonely and unfulfilled by now, right? Would I move somewhere based mainly on the idea of WK? who is completely in the closet as far as I can tell….plus the married guy *Mark that I am kinda in love with has proven disappointingly loyal to his wife, I can’t wait five years for him to have his mid-life crisis (me, I would be his mid-life crisis, get it)…he’s such a dainty little fella, I worry his wife might be physically abusing him or intimidating him or something…*Mark, I’m here if you need me, no means no, your body your choice, etc…
*not his real name
State of Alabama
64 North Union Street
P. O. Box 304100
Montgomery, AL 36130-4100
Phone: (334) 242-3389
Fax: (334) 242-1110
SENIOR SOCIAL WORKER – 50221
Salary: $35,589.60 – $53,995.20
Revised Date: December 12, 2012
The Senior Social Worker is a permanent full-time position used by various agencies throughout the state. This is advanced
professional service social work. Employees in this class develop a social service plan for a difficult and complex select
caseload in child protective services, adult protective services, child and adult foster care and/or adoptions; investigate complex
abuse and neglect cases; provide immediate crisis intervention; assess need and delivery of services; arrange for clinical
services; and/or plan for nursing home care.
• Master’s degree in Social Work from a social work program accredited by the Council on Social Work Education.
• Eligibility for Licensure as issued by the Alabama Board of Social Work Examiners
Licensure must be obtained within the probationary period in order to obtain permanent employment.
Applicants must complete and submit with their applications the willingness questionnaire on the reverse side of this
announcement. Applications without the willingness questionnaire will not be accepted.
Applicants must have available, suitable transportation.
Per Alabama Act Number 2000-775, beginning November 1, 2000, persons who apply for child welfare jobs will be
subjected to a criminal background investigation prior to employment with the Department of Human Resources.
Applicants may apply for this position during their last semester of college; however, applicants will be required to submit
documentation verifying completion of the Master’s degree to the hiring agency prior to beginning work.
Low-Cost Health/Dental Insurance (Single Coverage) Optional Family Coverage (Health/Dental)
Accrue Thirteen Annual Leave Days per Year Accrue Thirteen Sick Days per Year
Thirteen Paid Holidays per Year Retirement Plan
Flexible Employee Benefit Plans Optional Deferred Compensation Plans
Open-Competitive to all applicants
Evaluation of Training and Experience as shown on application
HOW TO APPLY
• Complete an Application for Examination Form available at http://www.personnel.alabama.gov, the above address, or any
Alabama Career Center Office.
• Apply by mail or by fax. Applications will be accepted until further notice.
THE STATE OF ALABAMA IS AN EQUAL OPPORTUNITY EMPLOYER
Please refer to the State Personnel Department web site or call us at (334) 242-3389 for complete information on our policy for
accepting post-secondary and advance degrees.
Applicants hired by the State of Alabama on or after January 1, 2012 will be subject to the E-Verify process
pursuant to Act No. 2011-535.
WILLINGNESS QUESTIONNAIRE FOR SENIOR SOCIAL WORKER (50221)
Are you willing and able to:
1. Work in situations where children or adults are deprived of basic living needs (ie food, shelter,
education, medical services, clothing etc.)? Yes □ No □
2. Remove children from current living situations for placement in foster care against the wishes of
the parents or legal guardians? Yes □ No □
3. View graphic physical abuse of children or adults? Yes □ No □
4. Work in high crime areas, sometimes alone? Yes □ No □
5. Use your personal vehicle to transport clients, children, supplies, or conduct visits? Yes □ No
6. Work with persons who are substance abusers? (alcohol and drugs) Yes □ No □
7. Work in low income housing projects sometimes alone? Yes □ No □
8. Occasionally work nights and weekends? Yes □ No □
9. Take verbal abuse without retaliating physically or verbally? Yes □ No □
10. Visually observe children, clients, or adults for physical signs of deprivation (ie clothing, hygiene, extreme
weight loss, etc)? Yes □ No □
11. Handle large case loads? Yes □ No □
12. Maintain strict confidentiality of all information to which you have access? Yes □ No □
13. Serve as a witness in court proceedings? Yes □ No □
14. Maintain very detailed case notes? Yes □ No □
15. Work in highly emotional situations and maintain composure? Yes □ No □
16. Handle a large volume of paperwork? Yes □ No □
17. Handle the pressure of meeting deadlines? Yes □ No □
Signature: ____________________________ Social Security Number: ________________________
People are either beautiful or nice, and *Mark* is one of the nicest people I know.
*not his real name…
Let’s see…I only like older men…I really like nerds…Jim Parsons is younger than me, but is smokin’ hot with his pale skin, unathletic body and nasally voice…nerd love wins, I heart Jim Parsons
adam4adam, and 1, basketball, boston terrier, dating, different, french bulldog, gay, gay fort lauderdale, humor, john jernigan, kevin mckidd, LGBT, manhunt, Miami, perspective, point of view, Ray Allen, sex, south Florida, Stephen Curry, Steve Kerr, The Daily Home, the professor, tres leches, Winterboro
I would have preferred to have used one of my better basketball pics. I actually had a few good game pics from high school, from my yearbooks, and one really awesome church league shot that I laminated, that made the Talladega Daily Home…but no, all those were lost during one of our evictions…thanks mom!
When I was still living in Pensacola I perused the “dating” websites in Fort Lauderdale and Tampa and Miami, using them to help me decide where I wanted to move. In Fort Lauderdale, I found this one guy *Mark’s * pic and profile on a couple of sights…and he was (and is) adorable…to me anyway. 5’9 dark-blonde/copper red hair, glasses, slightly nerdy in a good way…picture a 50-ish Kevin McKidd with a slightly sharper nose, aww so cute…
When I got to south Florida and settled in, I quite naturally contacted *Mark via the interweb and asked him out on a date…wait, that’s not right. I might have tried to hook up in a moment of weakness, I was lonely okay? but I was ignored.
Four months pass, and I am online doing some educational research and whatnot and I come across his little smiling-face profile again…and he’s online…it’s about 1 a.m. (what can I say, I have a thirst for knowledge).
So we message back and forth and I make my grand exit, leaving him my email address and blog link and telling him I didn’t want to just sleep with him, I wanted a real date, ya heard?
So *Mark never contacts me to take me somewhere nice like Olive Garden or the Red Lobsters. Yesterday I logged into the two “dating” sites where his profile lurks and left this message:
Hey *Mark…I remember checking out your profile when I lived in New Orleans & Pensacola…and I remember messaging with you late night about a month ago, either here or a4a? I just knew you were going to email me and arrange a date, but nothin’ happened…let me give you my info again, see if something jumps off…my email is email@example.com John Jernigan my blog is johnjernigan.wordpress.com – I play ball at Hortt Park, in Shady Banks…I will be there around 11 a.m. tomorrow (Saturday) if you wanted to come check me out, play or be my cheerleader…or if you propose a meet somewhere else I’m up for that as well…holler back
So I get up this morning, take the dogs, walk them around the park, harness them to a tree, and start ballin.’ I am of course looking for Mark everywhere and I’m confident he will be there…and he is. He is sitting with a woman across the park, past the playground, on some benches. Smart move, if he wasn’t going to play ball, bringing a fig bag I’ll call her, a security blanket, is something I might have done myself. Even though my insecurity is screaming at me to put my shirt back on because I’m too fat and pale and old, I persevere, off comes the shirt, and I’m ballin’, the Professor ya heard? ** even though I only look like the Professor when I am about 20 pounds lighter than my current 150**
A group of men have just finished softball practice on the field next to us, there are 3 or 4 tween skate kids wanting to play, so I quickly divide us up and it’s crackin.’ Admittedly I am at my best, uhh I seem to do exceptionally well against inferior competition, but sucks to be them then cause today I’m trying to impress my future husband * Mark. My shot is straight money…Swish Steph Curry…Zing Ray Allen…Pop my ex-bf Steve Kerr. I am watching * Mark out of the corner of my eye the whole time and he’s not being real attentive, keeps talking to that ignorantwoman. I get loud and argue more than I would normally about Kobe’s rapin’ ass and the Lakers with the lone brother on the court, hoping * Mark will wake up and pay attention and notice how masculine and cool his future boyfriend is…but no, *Mark and the Fig go to the water fountain, then turn and geez, they are walking toward the courts. Game time. I run and grab my t-shirt and wipe my face, don’t want a shiny forehead. Wait a minute, * Mark and the Fig are holding hands! WTF!? They are like 50 yards away now…it’s not *Mark, this guy is taller and skinny and maybe 30 years old. I give them a dirty look as they walk past, they are so ignorant.
My picking-up-a-man showoff skills have dissipated. I don’t make another shot, and we soon lose. Dude asked if we wanna run another, but I say No, I’m out, I’m done. I collect my babies and leave. I stop at the Super Saver on Davie and buy a tres leches, and I eat it all as soon as I am on my bed. Well I have my two loyal, constant steady girlfriends anyway…even if they stink a little and need a bath. I curl up with Squeak nestled between my legs and Cricket on my stomach, and we fall asleep together…without *Mark.
*Mark is not his real name*
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alternate title: Men are such stupid simple creatures
Let me start by saying I have only male parts, not a hermaphrodite…hundreds of men can attest to that. Maybe I don’t want to be a hermaphrodite per se, it’s just that men are so stupid and simple and visual and obvious…I envy the fact that a woman will take the time to get to know a man on a different level, scratch below the surface…hold off on having sex until there is actual emotion in play. The whole time I’ve been in Fort Lauderdale, I’ve been trying to show various men my great big pink pulsing throbbing…BRAINS, with absolutely no success. So if men are such base animals whose little brains only react to physical stimuli, then that’s what I’ll give ’em. My New Year’s resolution was to get back into fighting shape, to my ideal weight of 145 pounds, to have a 2-pack or at least a completely flat stomach. I’ve been in pretty good shape 4 or 5 times over the years, luckily it doesn’t take much to get me back there…mainly just physical activity and cutting back on the sugar (goodbye tres leches and dulce leches) and it’s all good. I’ve started playing pickup ball again and I’m walking the dogs every evening, so suck it dumb mens. I’ll lose my ten pounds, get all tan and toned, and be back in the high life again. That’s my hope for the New Year anyway…I feel like Carrie saying “Your girl is lovely Hubble.” Let me try to dumb down my intellect and tone up my body…I won’t want for admirers then, they just ain’t gonna be smart ones.
fat me 2011, fat me 2006, kinda skinny me 2010, real skinny me 2005 , skinny me & the world famous Venus Shante-Deviss 2003
So I’ll all mad, pissed off because the guy in this pic won’t take me to dinner or out on an actual date…I am invited to his place for some adult fun, if I so desire. My problem is I don’t think I have the right to be mad at him or expect him to be something he’s not…I mean he sent me a butt-naked picture with Santa! and while I can’t exactly recall where we met on the interweb, it most assuredly wasn’t on a legitimate dating site (because those cost money $$$). Well it doesn’t appear that I’ll be enjoying some scallops and creme brulee this evening. Dude did let me know he was going to be at a bar later, if I wanted to meet him there…no thank you, good day!
Most of my holidays have been spent alone, my ex would usually be with his family and since none of them knew about me…I always liked going to Toys-R-Us or the mall on Christmas Eve, the energy and excitement of the crowds, children running and playing and happy, babies crying when they’re put in Santa’s lap, peace on earth and goodwill and all that crap… This evening I went to the Toy-R-Us on N. Federal hoping to find some comfort, or happiness, or optimism or something for myself. In years past I always knew what the trendiest and hottest toys were, in fact last year I bought myself two singamajigs. This year I really wanted an uglydoll or three, but due to budgetary constraints little Johnny isn’t getting anything. I had hoped my toy store trip would lift my spirits, instead my ears turn red, I want to cry, I wipe away a couple of tears and come home. I play Dan Fogelberg’s “Same Old Lang Syne” over and over again on the way home. I so desperately want and need someone to love me and take care of me and be mine. I know that’s not fair or right to say…I should be trying to make myself happy, not looking for a man to save me and rescue me and validate me. That’s the problem, I’ve lost my way, not sure I can make me happy, I have lost my swagger and confidence…Is there someone out there for me? A sweet little fella to share Christmas with? Looks like ain’t no Christmas miracle happenin’ this year…
Bill Pullman, Bob Baffert, Brian D'Arcy James, Bryan Cranston, dating, fort lauderdale, gay, gay culture, George Clooney, Henry Czerny, humor, Ira Glass, john jernigan, point of view, south Florida, Steve Spurrier, wilton manors
alternate title: Old White Men I Have Known
Since I was 16 years old and driving to Birmingham every Saturday night with my fake ID I have always liked older men. When I was a high school senior there was this one girl who I thought I might have loved, but I had a major crush on her father, and if forced to choose…how you doin’, Paul?
I’ll blame the attraction exclusively to older men on the lack of a positive male role model as a child. My father was peace-out! when I was a baby and my grandfather was an asshole who used to hit us in the back of the head. I was an only child, the first grandchild, surrounded by women who babied and smothered and over-indulged me in everything, I had special meals made for me, never brought homework home, never went to church*, never ate at the table, won’t eat any type of vegetable, never had a curfew, never had a spanking, never was grounded, or made to do chores, or really do anything I didn’t feel like doing.
I wonder, since I ONLY like older men, when will I like a guy and then shit! realize he’s younger than I am? That fateful day is coming, but I’m not an old fella yet…am I? I can still hold it down in the bedroom…in short spurts (literally and figuratively).
There is a guy out there that I am completely crazy about. A few weeks ago I found myself right next to him at somewhere, my ears turned bright red, I stuttered a goodbye and made a hasty exit. I am most certain that my loneliness and the lack of any affection for me by anyone (human) are causing this crush, oh well. This guy is near but far, unattainable, belonging to someone else. Even if he were single, I look and feel so ugly and sad that he likely wouldn’t want me anyway. I’ve talked to him a time or two, and he has an inkling of how utterly cute and kissable I think he is. I did in fact attempt to kiss him once, which he refused by ducking away from me and then leaving. That embarrassment was attempted back when I still had a little self-confidence and felt I was someone special enough to obtain a kiss if I wanted one, from this guy or anyone. What’s funny is that NO ONE knows anything about him from me, I haven’t really made any friends here and so sadly have no one to confide in. Recently I saw this guy, just for a moment, walking with his friends. I allowed myself to think how great it would be to have this guy’s affection, to have someone, to be happy and in love, but it’s not to be. I want this guy to know that in the middle of this horrible depression I’m in, picturing his little face, how cute he is, the overall idea of him…they have been small, good things that I hold onto when things get really dark. If I could continue to carry my torch and admire him from afar I would be grateful. In this guy I see who I would want as my partner, if only I weren’t so ugly and broken.
It’s Tuesday around 4:30 p.m. and stupid me has gotten trapped in the rush-hour snarl of traffic that is N Federal/Sunrise/Broward to 95. I am singing along with the radio, Take That’s “Back for Good” which is embarrassing enough to admit, when I feel someone’s eyes on me. I immediately stop singing. A man is staring back and down at me from a generic SUV of some kind. He is cute…well cute to me. Admittedly my taste in men is most particular and unique and discerning : Michael Emerson, Chris Parnell, Jesse Tyler Ferguson…Atticus Finch…Father Mulcahy…Tim Gunn…Jack Coleman…Donald Rumsfield…? see, my list could go wrong, wrong at any time!!
This guy looks like a 40-something Jim Boeheim, which is good (to me). He is cruising me so hard, flat-out staring. I stare back and smile, give him a little wave. We inch along in traffic. Throw me something mister. Jim points at me, makes a circle with his left hand, opens his mouth and bobs his head up and down. WTF?! I am a little stunned. I mean things are understood, implied, negotiated…but this guy, I’m embarrassed for him, and for me. What should I do? I mean, he’s nerdy cute, waspy, glasses…but he has the nerve to offer me a blowjob, without a word spoken, just sitting in traffic, so…
In an effort to be the bigger person and maybe get a blowjob, I’m gonna carpe diem! this moment. I roll down my passenger side window and Jim does likewise.
Me: “How you doing?”
Jim: Nods his head
Me: “You maybe want to get a cup of coffee or something at the Starbucks up on Federal & Broward?”
Jim: Shakes his head, No, and holds up his left hand, showing me his wedding ring. Then he rolls his window up and starts intently watching traffic, good day
So Jim was more than willing to perform that most special act that us gay mens is famous for, any ole place I assume, at Winn-Dixie or his backseat or in a 7-Eleven bathroom…but can’t risk anyone seeing his ignorant ass sitting with me at Starbucks?
That’s okay, I mean Jim obviously found me attractive and alluring as he saw me singing all talented and whatnot…due to my masculinity and manliness and intimidating look, he probably got scared thinking I was all straight and maybe he was in danger of getting gay-bashed or something…I am almost certain no one can tell I am a member of the gay community just by observing me (singing)…right?
I’ve met someone (online) who might just be Mr. Right. He’s such a gentleman in his correspondence, he can spell and knows all his words, he is cute, short, smart and best of all he has dogs, who look lovely in their picture. He said I was a gorgeous, sensitive guy….he might be a perceptive gay genius! Tonight we are meeting for dinner at the Chimney House. This man I’ll call “Peanut” but that’s not his real name, anyway Peanut had informed me like a week ago that he was recovering from “major surgery.” I quite naturally assumed mid-50’s, hip replacement, but I didn’t ask. Anyways, he said he was mobile, spry enough to drive downtown for the date.
I am soo excited and looking forward to the night. Peanut & I agreed to “take things slow” and “do it the right way” i.e. cow/milk free. Plus I have realized that I almost immediately lose interest in a guy if we hookup. Chillout, patience, maturity I needs ’em all…all the things that I’m not! but must utilize and implement to catch and keep this guy.
I am useless at work and slip out around 1 p.m. When I thought Peanut had a broken hip or whatever I went out and bought him some books to read while on the mend: Running with Scissors, Life of Pi & Me Talk Pretty One Day. I buy wrapping paper and a bow and a card at Target. I then proceed to wrap the books up in a horrible, crumpled fashion, try again, this time I just wrapped the paper around and around the middle of the books, good enough. The card is a Thank You! card with a bulldog. This is what I wrote:
Hi Peanut, I wanted to say Thank You for lifting my spirits. Just knowing we are going out, that I have a date, that someone is thinking about me…has put the spring back in my step and it feels good.
I go and get a pedicure and a haircut. I invest in a green Polo shirt from Marshall’s that matches my eyes. Bam! I look good…Peanut had mentioned in an email how much he would like to see me in some red Speedos. For the next 2 1/2 hours I search everywhere for red Speedos, Sports Authority, Dicks, TJMaxx, Target…nothing. The gay guy at SA just laughed when I inquired about red Speedos, saying “We can’t keep them on the shelf, men love ’em, it’s almost like a fetish or something.” They had black and purple, but no red, so Good Day, moving on. Plus, they were $36…:(
I splurge for this cucumber mask from Bed, Bath & Beyond, a luxury item, expensive as fuck, but I have a date with Peanut, Mr. Right (maybe)…I need to look as youthful as possible.
The Chimney House is actually in my neighborhood, like 1/4 mile away. We had agreed on 7:30. This is Peanut’s email to me:
I’ll be there at 7:15!! What will you be wearing so I can know it’s you. I’ll alert all the waiters to be prepared for your grand entrance.
I leave my house just after 7 p.m., flying high on optimism, I got a date with Peanut, the dog days are over, he likes me he really does. Maybe after dinner we will go walk on the beach and it will be cold and we will cuddle up & I will get my first kiss! I know the meal will be fine, I am supremely confidant in my conversational skills and have an opinion to share about everything…
I prop the half-ass wrapped books on the hood of my car, against the windshield wiper. My car is facing Las Olas. When Peanut brings me back to the house I will say something all cute like ” Look the book fairy” or I don’t know…and he will get his books and say How Thoughtful! This guy is special (good special) I also leave the house a straight mess, dirty dishes in the sink, dirty dogs, dirty clothes…all of these measures implemented to make sure Peanut can’t come in, not an option, I am not the strongest when it comes to taking it slow…I want this to work with Peanut soo much, leave nothing to chance.
I remind myself to quickly tell Peanut that I talk too much when I’m nervous or excited, in case I turn into chatty Cathy. I am amped, jazzed, as I start walking I am picturing Judy Garland on that mountain sending “The hills are alive with …” I am also singing “Love Will Keep Us Together”, having heard it earlier.
Maybe walking was a bad idea. I break into a sweat and now I’m worried my forehead will be all shiny when he first sees me. I walk into like five spiderwebs, one went in my mouth. I get to the restaurant at 7:27 p.m. I tell the waiter that I’m meeting Peanut, who I know is waiting on me, all excited and whatnot probably, I know he got there early…the hostess tells me Peanut hasn’t arrived yet. I go to the bathroom, I’m still good, baby faux-hawk, gauges, green on green, ya heard?
It’s 7:35, 7:40. I start to feel a bit uneasy. I realize that in all our emails we never exchanged phone numbers. I don’t know Peanut’s last name. I can identify him in a line-up or at an adult book store or something like that. I walk across the street and sit on the curb to check my yahoo, and there it was, time-stamped 1:36 p.m. Thursday 10/31/12:
Sorry John, but In have to cancel tonight.
Just the one grammatically incorrect sentence, no had an emergency, sick, fell again and broke other hip, sun-downing and confused…nothing.
I am very briefly angry, then as the stereotype that I am, I start to cry as I walk home. I walk into like three more motherfuckin’ spiderwebs. I think how stupid I must look, how sad. 15 minutes ago I was practically skipping toward Peanut, nothing but blue skies, so naturally high in the moment, in the possibility, in the brief, brief, happy, happy. I had given Peanut all these positive personality traits, what I wanted him to be…my knight in shining armor, so smart, such a gentleman. I don’t know, Peanut could be a murderer or 300-pound white lady, who knows? Peanut knows, but not deluded, manic-y John.
I pick my probably-wouldn’t-appreciate-them anyway books up from the car’s hood. I call Domino’s and order a large pan with bacon & ham & pepperoni & also order two chocolate-molten lava cakes. I turn off all the lights and kind of fall asleep/catatonia/shock…PTSD? When the food comes I shovel it down, greedy, ugly, not even tasting it.
I pick Cricket up and try to rock her like a baby, but she squirms and bucks and head-butts me on the chin, wanting down. I feed them small pieces of the pizza crust. Squeak is drooling. They love human food. When they look up at me with their bulging eyes, when they are waiting for me at the door when I get home from work , dancing around and barking and happy…they are saying “I love you, I love you.” Two furry little gremlins love me, I am special to them, if to no one else.
Last night I wandered around the Manor for like 3 hours, spent $33 on 3 drinks, tried to dance but the DJ sucked kept dropping out…I was admired and “bumped into/groped/assaulted” etc…by some of our most offensive stereotypes…and standing on the 2nd floor watching the dance floor my alcohol-addled brain figured out my husband was NOT in the building, shakin’ his groove thing at 3 a.m. I felt bad when I got home because I had promised Cricket & Squeak I would find them a new daddy tonight. Late, too late the DJ slightly redeemed himself by playing Angie Stone’s “Wish I Didn’t Miss you” I like to think just for me.
My move to Fort Lauderdale is a resounding flop so far. My job is not fun. I have tried to make two different men the object of my affection, failing miserably. The first guy appears to be in a happy, committed relationship with someone else. wtf? My clumsy attempt to romance him led to one of the most embarassing nights of my life. I truly thought we were on a dinner date. He said no, just friends, good day! Later on in the date that he said was not-a-date, I tried to lean in for a romantic kiss. He ducked away, gave me an are-you-crazy look, and left soon after. The second guy just flaked on me. He acted like meeting me was no big deal, so casual, whatever. I am beginning to realize that gay men here are of such quantity and availability and promiscuity that he probably doesn’t have to work hard to catch someone, why should he? He lives in a “gay village” with thousands of swinging dicks at his perusal. He lives right on Wilton Drive, walks to the bars and shit, and shares a condo with his “ex ” wtf?
So Friday I’m out doing a daycare visit to see one of my children, I am sad, low, pessimistic, depressed. I am resigned to being alone, alone. Is Mr. Right out there for me? Probably not, and let’s face it, what man ( who fits my criteria & type ) would put up with all my bullshit and eccentricities and neediness? I’m in the hood somewhere near Pompano and like Commercial Blvd. I see a thrift store sharing a parking lot with a pawn shop and a check cashing store and decide to check it out. I find almost brand new hardback copies of House of the Scorpion by Nancy Farmer and The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls, .50 cents each, $1 !!! I’m a little surprised by how happy finding these books makes me…but I’ll take what I can get. I’ll also concede there’s probably not a man out there who would appreciate my appreciation of these books.