Talking to the Phone

After a bad night of poker I was driving home and trying to have Siri help me text my girlfriend. This was our conversation:

Me: Text Steph

Siri: I can send a text to Steph for you, what would you like it to say?

Me: I didn't win one pot.

Siri: Your messages says, "I didn't win one hot." Ready to send it?

Me: Change it.

Siri: What would you like it to say?

Me. I    didn't   win   one    Pot.

Siri: Your message says, "I didn't win one hot:" Ready to send it?

Me. Change it.

Siri: What you would you like it to say?

Me.   I     didn't    win   one     POT. 

Siri: Your message says, "I didn't win one hot." Ready to send it?

Me. Change it.

Siri: What would you like it say?

Me: I am glad I have you.

Flames

She was on her way to my house for the evening. I lit the three candles on my bedside table to help create a romantic and pleasant atmosphere. We had been dating a while now so things were relaxed and pleasant.

The two of us made are way to the bed and things were progressing nicely. Neither of us were paying particularly close attention to the arrangement of the bed’s pillows. All the sudden in the dimly lit room there was instantly a significant increase of light to my immediate left.

I don’t know why but I noticed the light before I noticed the heat. As I looked over my left shoulder I saw my pillow had quickly gone up in flames. I don’t know how big the flame actually was, but it looked huge. I immediately jumped up and grabbed the flaming pillow and ran into the bathroom. I threw it into the tub and turned on the water.

That was a mood killer.

She follows me into the bathroom laughing all the way. I admittedly was upset about losing my favorite pillow (the expensive one with the hole in the middle I bought from my chiropractor) and my matching pillow case. I wasn’t laughing.

In the end there was a slight mark on my bedside table, a slight stain on the bathtub, the loss of my pillow and pillow case, but the damage was minimal.

We opened up the house to let out the smoke and smell of the fire, and I don’t recall any more romantic activity continuing that evening.

The next day I considered cutting off the burned pillow and trying to salvage it, but I dropped it in the trash and bought another.

Back to Back

My date arrived complete with black and orange fingernails and a shirt she made specifically for the game. She was quite excited about going to her first Giants game of the season. That was a Tuesday night so I’ll refer to her as Tuesday-night-girl.

It wasn’t until about the third inning when we were talking about ticket availability that she reluctantly mentioned she was also going to the game the next day with a male friend, a friend that “she has known for years and was like a brother.” Somehow during that whole discussion I managed not to mention that I was also going to the game the next day and taking another girl. Honestly, if I wasn’t taking her I would have spent the night in the area and not had to drive back again the next morning. So I was being a gentleman by not mentioning it.

For both games I was using my friend’s season tickets. The seats to our left were empty, as they often were, and the seats to our right were again occupied by a couple of sisters that rarely missed a game. I was quite surprised at another couple that showed up in the seventh inning to the seats to the left of the empty seats. Maybe they were from LA. It turned out to be a great game and we enjoyed a victory complete with a Brian Wilson save. All together a good first date. Not our first date, but my first date of the week.

Now I wasn’t cheating on anyone or anything, but I did wonder if I would be able to pull off going to both games without mentioning the other woman either day. I was also wondering if one of the sisters would say anything when they saw me arrive. Maybe something like, “nice to see you again so soon.” However, on the way to the park Wednesday she directly asked me who I went with the night before (initially, when I invited her I gave her a choice of the two games, but I didn’t know she would remember that) so I had to tell her about Tuesday-night-girl. The idea of running into Tuesday-night-girl at the game did give us a few laughs. However, she had standing-room-only seats and was out in the outfield somewhere so it was unlikely that would occur.

I didn’t see Tuesday-night-girl for a couple weeks. We were talking candidly and freely so I said, “Okay, I have confession to make. You know the night we went to the Giants game…” She cut me off, “You went again the next day, with another girl.” I paused. I had a look on my face like, “how could she know that?” She continued, “I saw you.”

Apparently, with a large crowd at AT&T is pretty hard to find decent standing-room-only seats. She remembered the empty seats to our left the night before and thought she would see if they were available again. They walked up to the section. She looked up and saw me with my date grabbed her friend and ran back down the tunnel.

Oops.

Thought of the Week

I don't have a girlfriend. But I do know a woman who'd be mad at me for saying that.
--Mitch Hedberg

Uncensored

The other day I was texting with a girl...

Me: It is one of the six things I do well.

Her: Dare I ask the other five?

Me: Do you want to go out this weekend?

Her: Is that your way of avoiding the question or attempting to answer it?

Thought of the Week

I've been on so many blind dates I should get a free dog.
--Wendy Liebman

Thought of the Week

A woman in love can't be reasonable, or she probably wouldn't be in love.
--Mae West

Vanilla Ice Cream

Preface:
This song does not reflect my opinion of any girls I am currently dating or have dated in the past.
But... It is pretty damn funny.

I was just about to say that

The other day I picked up my date from her house. On the way to the restaurant she informed me, “I look lovely this evening.”

Oops.

*And she did look lovely. Despite my negligence in mentioning this right away, at dinner when I was sitting across from her I renoticed how nice she was looking in her dress and was sure to point it out in a sincere way. I think I mostly recovered.

My One Orange Bowl

“Do you love me?”

“I do enjoy spending time with you.”

That isn’t the exact words used, but it is a rough summary of the conversation. And I don’t think she was that surprised by my response, because there was a small pile of my things already sitting on her kitchen counter.

This was last summer. I had only been to her place a handful of times, but I had managed to leave a book, a deck of cards, and a large orange plastic salad bowl. We didn’t exactly call off the relationship at that time, but we agreed to continue in a diminished capacity. We also agreed that when I left I would take the salad bowl.

I left. I walked home on a pleasant summer night carrying my book, deck of cards, and large orange plastic salad bowl. I hit Capitol Avenue, my street. My house: three blocks to the right. The bar: four blocks to the left. It was a Sunday night. Probably not many people were out. I could even sit in the bar and read my book. After all I was already carrying it. I went left.

I got to the bar and calmly sat my orange bowl inside on the floor to the right of the door. The place was mostly empty, but I noticed two girls sitting at the bar. The one closest to me looked like she might be cute. (She was; they both were.) And it wasn’t like I was seeing anyone. I went to the adjacent spot to order my drink.

Her response was favorable and the three of us began chatting. Soon I found myself sitting at a table outside with two attractive single young women. The girls were fun, friendly, witty, loud, and crass. They made me seem like a person that was timid and reserved. (I know many of you find that hard to believe, but you haven’t met these girls.) I was feeling content and mellow that evening and just accepted my role for the night.

The conversation went well enough we decided to continue the evening to a location that had some music playing. I started to leave the bar with the girls, but then had to tell them, “Wait. My bowl.”

How am I supposed to explain that? Two cute girls I just met at a bar. After a couple drinks I’m about to leave with them in their car and I stop to grab a large orange salad bowl. In hindsight I think if I had just told them the whole truth they would have actually been impressed. I’m certain they were not intimidated. But I was feeling content and mellow. I retrieved the orange bowl from the floor of the bar. I had to say something.

“What? I always take it with me when I go out.”