Sunday, June 14, 2015

In every lovely summer's day

In case anyone was looking to follow up on what happened with our friend Buddy, I promise I won't leave you hanging for much longer. Today though, I want to touch on something else.

June marks six months since my father passed away; next Sunday will be my first Father's Day without him. I think about my Dad every single day.  To be honest, some days are very normal and routine, almost like it never happened. When this occurs, I feel a surge of guilt for feeling happy and wonder if he's looking down wondering if I forgot about him. However, there are nights I shed tears because I simply want to talk to him and I can't. I'm still processing his loss and am sometimes surprised at the emotions I'm experiencing. 

My Dad and I did not have a perfect relationship - in fact, we butted heads quite a bit.  We tested each other; both stubborn in our ways, but thankfully we were always able to work out these kinks. Though his life was cut short, he was able to make his dreams come true through steadfast focus and integrity. He was undeniably the most giving human being I've ever come across - generous, but not foolish. He was strong in his morals and didn't hesitate to stand up to deceitful behavior.  He was brutally honest; I learned to stop lying a long time ago when once he asked where my report card was (in my backpack) but I was afraid to show him because of a bad grade - so I told him I left it at school.  I knew I was in deep shit when he then replied 'Ok, I'll drive you to school so we can get it'.

Because of him, I am a better person; even in his absence, his hand on my shoulder continues to be a guiding force.  He said that I made him proud, and I want to continue to do so. We used to discuss what song we would dance to if I ever got married; I told him I'd always liked the 'I'll be seeing you' version by Frank Sinatra.

Yes, I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places that this heart of mine embraces - all day and through.

Monday, June 1, 2015

Unlimited Crabs & Ribs

Last night, I had a lot of time to think slash reminisce while I worked on pulling 50 bobby pins out of my hair. #Weddingseason, hayyyy.

Something about standing on a dock at high noon, surrounded by sparkling water brought me back to a few memories from last summer; due to length, this post will most likely be a two part-er. Before I go into details, I'm going to confidently assume that at least 99.9% of anyone reading this has carelessly given out their digits at a bar.  Why on EARTH did you commit such an act? I've broken it down:

1. You were drunk
2. You were bored (and drunk)
3. You're going through a break-up and need a confidence boost (and drunk)
4. You were drunk
5. You were drunk
6. You were drunk

So, yeah...the damage is done.  It's especially funny because in a lot of these scenarios, we'll gladly hand our phone to this person (stalker) so that they may enter their 'name' into your contacts. The following morning, you wake up confused when you notice you have a text from 'Cute Nick' or some turd bag nickname like 'J-Luv' - what? Let's face it, no one calls you J-Luv except yourself.  The message is your standard 'good morning beautiful' followed by a fugly selfie of said Cute Nick or J-Luv, sporting aviators and an Aeropostale polo with a mother fucking popped collar! Ahhhh! Honestly, the first thought that came to mind was if and how that store was actually still in business.

These conversations are usually short lived, and by short lived I mean non-existent.  We ignore it and in most cases, they take the hint.  Other times, they'll have a conversations with themselves like ''well, it was nice to meet you. I'll be in town for the next week if you want to chill!' Thanks but no thanks; in other words, you're looking for something to poke on while you're on your 'business trip'. What he should be looking for is a stylist to take him shopping for big boy clothing.

Don't worry; I'm getting to my point.  So, there's those guys...the 'J-Luvs' and the 'Cute Nicks' who are never cute but think they'll sway you anyway.  Sometimes, you'll meet an in-betweener - I really don't know what else to call it.  This guy isn't the worst, but you also don't want to be waking up next to him. You're not attracted to him physically, his personality doesn't make up for it either BUT hey, if you happen to run into him when you see him out - you won't decline a drink offer.  Got it?  We'll call him Buddy.

He's easy to dub this because he works part time at Buddy's in Annapolis aka place to eat seafood if you want your head in a toilet later.  Buddy is ALSO a real estate agent and kind of a big deal, as he feels inclined to mention every time he opens his mouth. Buddy was smitten with my friend immediately upon meeting; over the course of a year, we'd run into Buddy on occasion.  Though Buddy was told from the get-go that there was no chance for romance, he continued to show endless devotion with offerings of cinnamon whiskey. We wouldn't be in the bar for more than 10 minutes before he came barreling over with his hot, Fireball breath handing us shots. 'Hey sweetheart!'  That was his choice pet name.  Unless she's your girlfriend or you're a 1920's Prohibition era gangster, stop using that fucking word! 'Ya shee, schweetheart..I brought here shome bootleg whiskayyyy!!'

To be continued...