Serves Me Right

A couple of weeks ago I was driving my senior citizens in our big fifteen-passenger bus (we have upgraded from van to bus, and it’s a hoss) to dinner, and when I stopped at a red light I got out my lipstick.

“You never know when you are going to meet the love of your life,” I said as I caked it on. Pink is a good color for me.

I didn’t think another thing about it because we were headed to Tenn16 over in East Nashville which everyone knows if full of hipsters wearing skinny jeans, and everyone knows I am not going to find myself in a relationship with a man who wears skinny jeans. Ever.  (God, hear me on this.)  During dinner I noticed that Jan, me in thirty years, was talking to a man at the bar.  Since I like to make new friends in bars and restaurants my own self, I thought nothing of that either.

Later, after food was consumed and plates were cleared, Jan got out her lipstick and caked it on. Mauve is a good color for her.  She motioned for me to do the same and once that chore was accomplished, she invited me down to her end of the table.

“Jimmie,” she said, “I have someone I want you to meet. That man behind me at the bar?  His name is Jerry.  I went to high school with him and while I’m furious with him for aging better than me, I want you to meet him.  Here’s what I think I’m going to say:  This is Jimmie. She’s looking for a hookup.  Are you interested in going out with her?”

Y’all. Y’all!  Jerry is 70 years old.* Open up that floor and swallow me whole.  I’ve got to keep my mouth shut around Jan.

In other related-but-not-really news, I recently lost my driver’s license in Key West. This story would be far more exciting if I were able to tell you that I lost it in the bar or on the beach, but alas, I believe I lost it in the grocery store buying something boring like cheese. Anyway, I had to go through TSA twice with no ID of any kind and unless you count a pat down so thorough I felt like I needed a cigarette after, it was not a pleasant experience.  Getting a new license was not a pleasant experience either but I was rewarded with a new license photo that makes me look like a melted piece of cheese (apropos, no?).  Also, it looks like every chin I ever had in my life showed up for that photo.  I suppose that is what I get for losing my license, although I feel good about replacing it so soon because I can speed again.  Was terrified to do that without one.

In final related news (not really), in our last blogging episode I threw my dear sister, Martie, under the bus. In retaliation, she threw me under the bus and in a display of her pipes and creativity, she wrote me a song.

Please enjoy her non-warbling-nor-screeching tune written rightfully at my expense. For the record, I feel about Willie Nelson much like I do about Patsy Cline.

In Which Martie Throws Me Under The Bus; Or, A Song By Martie

Ain’t we great? That is some sisterly love right there.

*I feel I should defend myself here – while I’m not opposed to an older man, I think maybe five years is my limit. Seven, tops. (God, hear me on this.) I’d like for our wrinkling pattern to be roughly the same.

Dating at 42

June – Conversation with a snappy dresser

Dandy:             Would you like to go to dinner and movie?

Jimmie:           Sure, I’d love that.

Dandy:             Great.  Meet me there. Do I need to bring money for you?

Dandy:             Oh, and wait.  You’ll kiss me, won’t you? I don’t go out with girls who don’t kiss on the first date.

July – Series of conversations with a lovely, tall man

Tall Man:         Jimmie, I am so glad that Freddie introduced us.  You are amazing.  I’ve never met anyone like you.  <grinning and blushing the whole time>

Jimmie:           I . . . thank you.  I’m glad she introduced us, too.  <also grinning and blushing the whole time>

Tall Man:         Gosh, I like you.  This is crazy.  It’s wonderful.

Jimmie:           Hee!

Tall Man:         Also, I’m 90% sure I just want to be friends.

Jimmie:           Huh.  In that case, I’m 100% sure I don’t want to be friends.  I already have a lot of friends.

October – Texts with a man with whom I had one perfectly innocent date months ago

Delusional Pervert:     Hey . . . .

Jimmie:                       Hey

Delusional Pervert:     I miss you

Jimmie:                        . . . . okay . . .

Delusional Pervert:     Are you busy tonight?

Jimmie:                       Not particularly.  What were you thinking?

Delusional Pervert:     I could come over . . . .

Jimmie:                       Uh, no.

Delusional Pervert:     But, XOXO

Jimmie:                       You know what, no.

Delusional Pervert:     🙂

Jimmie:                       What is my name?

Delusional Pervert:     Sweetie, XOXO

Jimmie:                       I’m serious.  You’ve been texting me randomly for months, clearly my number is in your phone, and you haven’t once said my name.  What is it?

<Five minute pause>

Delusional Pervert:     I don’t remember . . .

Delusional Pervert:     Look, we can be FWB.  I just really want sex.  XOXO

Jimmie:                       You’ve got to be kidding me.  I’m not your girl.  Get lost.

Delusional Pervert:     (and this part just slays me) Okay

November – Emails with another lovely, tall man

Man:                Email, email, email, question?, email, hahahaha!

Jimmie:           Chat, chat, chat, question?, question?, Chat, email, smiley face

Man:                Oh, email!  Email! Haha, love it, email!

Jimmie:           Blather, blather, blather, talk, email, blather, haha!

<This continues for some days.>

Man:                Email!

Jimmie:           Email!  Also, I know you’ve seen my blog and all my pictures but here’s one we just took today at the beach.

<radio silence> <dead air> <fade away blow off>

Show me the sexy in this.  There is no sexy in this!  There’s no sexy in me at all, is there?

Other dating posts here, here, and here.

UPDATED: Date Night With Pee-Tah

Pee-tah said to me on Saturday night, “Jimmie, this is terrible. We are perfect together except for the whole part where we both like boys and/or your being female. I mean, I’m taller than you and everything.”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I know. You don’t even have a stupid name and I bet you barely know what NASCAR is.”

We looked at each other resignedly for a minute and then put on our matching hoodies and went to the grocery store.

For the record, my date nights with Pee-tah are the best date nights I’ve had since . . . . er, I’m trying to think here . . . . . okay! I have a story.

A long time ago when I lived in Alabama, I had that group of friends that I wrote about recently, and in that group was a guy I’ll call Lee-Lee. Lee-Lee was just about the nicest man ever, kind of shy, a little endearingly awkward, and significantly taller than me. He was a member of the National Guard, having joined years before as a means to support himself while he earned a degree. One of the perks of that military program was a military ball, and one year Lee-Lee found himself without a date. It was on a random Tuesday night that he called me and said, “Jimmie, can you help me? I need a date for this ball and I’d like to ask someone who will be fun, someone I really like, but someone who also understands that this is a friend date, not a romantic date.”

“Oh, sure,” I yelped as soon as he took a breath, ever helpful. “What about Julie? She would look very pretty in a ball gown and you know how nice she is. Everyone would love her.”

“Well –,“ he started, and then I said, “Or! What about April! She loves to play dress up. She would look gorgeous and would love to hang out with a bunch of men in uniform.”

“Yes, but –,“ he tried again, and I then I hollered, “Hey, what about Jana? She really likes you but you could just tell her that you aren’t looking for a date date, just a friend date. This might make her get over you actually –“

“Jimmie!” he barked. “Stop, would you? I’m asking you if you want to go. Will you go with me to this ball, please?”

Y’all, I seem to have always had trouble seeing myself as desirable, even just as a friend, which is stupid as I’m the most fun person I know. But anyway, I said yes and then I rented the prettiest gown you ever did see, paid money to have my hair put up in pin curls and bought the tallest fancy shoes I could find. Lee-Lee showed up at my door in his uniform and escorted me to the ball in high fashion. We had the best time dancing and laughing, and as I took the 1,000 bobby pins out of my hair that night, I sighed in contented happiness. It was a perfect date. I went out with a gentleman who enjoyed my company, just for me. We laughed and talked and ate and never once did I worry about my safety, my virtue or what he thought when I consumed everything on my plate.

Dating Pee-tah is like that. Every night we spend together watching Bourne movies is a night spent sighing in contentment.

This is what that looks like:

Matching Hoodies!

Matching Hoodies!

Comfort option #1

Comfort option #1 (see below for details)

I love a man in the kitchen

I love a man in the kitchen

Speaks for itself

Speaks for itself

Pee-Tah serenading me from the Methodist Hymnal

Pee-Tah serenading me from the Methodist Hymnal

Studying the BDIYET Recipe

Studying the BDIYET Recipe (also see below for details)



Pee-Tah, the man who thinks eating is a waste of time, does occasionally get hungry, and when he does, he’ll whip out his repertoire of three recipes which includes only comfort foods (spaghetti, tator tot hot dish, and chicken and rice) and let you choose the one that would make you happiest. He then dons an apron and begins to cook, all the while discussing earnestly with you which dessert you’ll make together in his Kitchen Aid mixer. We picked wedding cake and The Best Damn Icing You’ve Ever Tasted. Remember it? It was the icing that I tried to make for Freddie’s birthday which failed miserably?

Icing Failure

Also, remember that Freddie had moderate success with that icing later in the year, making me look like a total novice in the kitchen. Still, it was never quite perfected and Pee-Tah, being a detail-oriented engineer, could not rest until he mastered it. He came as close as anyone will, I suppose, thanks to 45 minutes of whipping sugar and butter in the Kitchen Aid mixer. Our cake was small but completely smothered in icing and was the most delicious cake I have had since I last had cake.

Absolutely magnificent


Later that night, as I took my ponytail holder out of my hair, I sighed in contented happiness. I had just had the perfect date. I went out with a gentleman who enjoyed my company, just for me. We laughed and talked and ate and never once did I worry about my safety, my virtue or what he thought when I consumed everything on my plate as we watched Jeremy Renner beat the snot out of the bad guys. Absolutely perfect.

UPDATED:  The day after I posted this, Pee-Tah sent me a text message that read:  How much do you pay monthly for your cell phone?  Wondering if you and I shouldn’t jump on the same plan.

And then last night he came over and did this.


(Yes, it was broken again.)

You just don’t find men like this much anymore.

It’s Not Complicated (At Least Not Anymore)

I have news. If I were that kind of girl, I’d have announced it on Facebook by changing my status from “single” to “in a relationship” and then added a bunch of hearts and exclamation points and smiley faces.  I’m not that kind of girl but can I get a “Hell, Yeah!” anyway?

This has been a long time coming.  I missed a lot of signs, it seems, because I don’t understand it when someone likes me just for me.  Everyone else saw it and told me all about it but again, I’m a little slow on the uptake.  Apparently he is too, because we’ve walked around for the last five months claiming we are “just friends”, even as we snuggled up on my floor in front of the Christmas tree lights.  You couldn’t get paper between us, we were so close, yet we called it “fellowshipping” and “listening to Christmas music”.  (Lest you leer at me with an <eyebrow waggle> over the “snuggling”, “fellowshipping” or “listening to Christmas music”, please remember that my Daddy-O reads this blog.  Pervs.)

In the time it took us to get from “you are a nice person” to “making out with you sounds like a great idea” we spent a lot of time hanging out and getting to know each other – always ideal.  I should have known something was up, though, because every time we left each other, I felt lost and confused yet hopeful.  And when we did finally talk about whatever this was becoming over the last month or so, I left every conversation with an answer that was clear as mud.  This was not an easy road.

However, the bridge has been crossed, the path determined, the fork . . . . what exactly do you call it when you decide which way to go at the fork?  I’d like to now tell you about him and how he wooed me.  Truth is, you already know him. I’ve written about him. Why don’t I run down the list and let you see if you can guess.

  1. He is taller than me. (Yay!)
  2. He does not have a stupid name.  (I prolly won’t tell it, either way.)
  3. He does not live with his mother.  (Have mercy, what a relief.)
  4. His heart beats for God. (Hallelujah!)
  5. NASCAR has never been on his list of fun things to support.  (<heavy, relieved sigh>)
  6. He has lovely hands and teeth.  (I’m a sucker for lovely hands and teeth.)
  7. More than once I’ve found him washing dishes in my kitchen, towel draped over his shoulder and suds up to his elbows.  (As an aside here, men, I’d like to give a word of advice.  Women almost never, ever find it sexy when you send naked junk pictures to our phones, nor when you describe in detail what you would like to do with that junk.  We do, however, find it incredibly sexy to find you sweeping the floor without being bribed or asked.  A man with a broom in his hand? MEOW!)
  8. He told me that he likes my big hair, that he likes my talking and that he likes it when I’m sort of loud and bossy. (I don’t get it either . . . )
  9. He bought me flowers and a candle and stuffed donkey.  (A donkey!)
  10. He’s as nice to me as Pee-tah is.  (For those of you wondering if Pee-tah was the one, if he made the switch, please know that as awesome as I am and fabulous as we are together, he is and will always remain Not Interested In Women.)

An extra bonus:  Madre and Martie like him. As do Pooh and Tigger.  (Crucial bit of acceptance.)

Any guesses?  First one to get it right gets a prize.  Wait, first one who didn’t already know the answer gets a prize.  Martie is going to help me pick it out because she’s good at that sort of thing and I’ll either mail it to you (if you are a stranger) or deliver it to you over lunch (if you aren’t).  And then we will gush over this new relationship of mine that I’ve waited eons for and I’ll tell you all my stories.  Then we can gush over whatever stories you want to tell me in return.

Also, in conclusion:  Hell, Yeah!

Pop Quiz! Or, There’s Nothing To See Here, People. Everyone’s Virtue Is Intact. I Think.

1.       Lynnette’s husband is a handsome man.  He is tall and has no unaddressed dental issues.  He’s also a snappy dresser.  He fully and faithfully belongs to Lynnette.  Jimmie met him once and treated him with respect and friendliness, talking to him and including him in the conversation and festivities.  What is your assessment of Jimmie’s behavior with Husband-of-Lynnette?

          a.      She was being true to herself by being friendly and chatty, hoping to include Husband and make him feel welcome

          b.      She is a dirty filthy skank who was clearly hitting on Husband and is the reason why Lynnette never brings him to parties and such

2.      Freddie’s husband is a handsome man.  He is tall and has no unaddressed dental issues.  He’s also very generous in lending his bicycles out to his friends.  He fully and faithfully belongs to Freddie.  Jimmie met him once and treated him with respect and friendliness, talking to him and including him in the conversation and the festivities.  What is your assessment of Jimmie’s behavior with Husband-of-Freddie?

          a.      She was being true to herself by being friendly and chatty, hoping to include Husband and make him feel welcome

          b.      She is a dirty filthy skank who was clearly hitting on Husband and is the reason why Freddie never brings him to parties and such

3.      Martie’s husband is a handsome man.  He is tall and has no unaddressed dental issues.  He’s also one of the nicest men you’ll ever run across.  He fully and faithfully belongs to Martie.  When Jimmie first met him she treated him with respect and friendliness, talking to him and including him in the conversation and festivities.  What is your assessment of Jimmie’s behavior with Husband-of-Martie?

          a.      She was being true to herself by being friendly and chatty, hoping to include Husband and make him feel welcome

          b.      She is a dirty filthy skank who was clearly hitting on Husband and is the reason why Martie never brings him to parties and such

4.      Casual Acquaintance’s date is  . . . .  interesting looking.  He is tall and has loads of unaddressed dental issues.  Loads.  For starters, the teeth he does have are not a normal color but more blackish. He’s also greasy and shy.  He fully and faithfully belongs to Casual Acquaintance as far as Jimmie can tell.  Jimmie met him once and treated him with respect and friendliness, talking to him and including him in the conversation and festivities because he seemed intent on holding up the wall for the duration of the evening and she felt kind of bad for him.  What is your assessment of Jimmie’s behavior with Date-of-Casual Acquaintance? 

          a.      She was being true to herself by being friendly and chatty, hoping to include Date and make him feel welcome

          b.      She is a dirty filthy skank who was clearly hitting on Date despite the fact that unaddressed dental issues turn her off completely and the fact that men who are already romantically attached hold no appeal for her.  Her behavior was so bad that she deserved an email stating that she is the reason why Casual Acquaintance never brings him to parties and such. 

If it helps, you can do this test Open Book.  The Book reads like this:  All husbands and attached men are 100% safe around Jimmie, even the hottie ones like Dwayne Johnson and Tom Selleck and Denzel Washington.  No exceptions, especially for ones with very bad teeth. 

BONUS QUESTION:  Jimmie was at her café, writing and being quiet and obviously busy.  A man who smelled quite strong although not unpleasant arrived and set up shop near her.  He worked diligently at his computer for a while and occasionally peeked back at Jimmie.  He asked a question or two of her, and when she was packing up to leave, he started a full blown conversation.   

“Can I get your help with something?” asks the man.

“Sure, what’s that?” asks Jimmie. 

“Come look at this?” he says and points at his computer screen which is emblazoned with the header for DATEHOOKUP.COM.  A profile has been started.

“Oh,” Jimmie says faintly.   

“You see what I’m doing here?  My wife, well she left, and I don’t want to be alone.  What should I say here?”  he says, looking up with hopeful eyes.

“You see what I’m doing here?” he says again. 

“Ah, put your picture on it, leave out the baggage because no one wants to date someone who talks about how their spouse did them wrong all the time, and talk about what you like to do. Those are my suggestions. Good luck.”  says Jimmie.

“You see what I’m doing here?” he asks. Again.

“Yep,” says Jimmie and she left. Quickly.    

What say you – was she hit on?     

          a.      Yes, of course.  Stop being so naive.

          b.      No, of course not.  Ego is out of control.

For real, Jimmie has no clue.  Please weigh in.  

Anatomy Of A Pick-Up Line: Men, This Is Not How It’s Done

If you want to hit on my sweaty hot mess of a self at the gym with the flushed face and just-rolled-out-of-bed hair (and why wouldn’t you – it’s an alluring package), please use the following guidelines to do it correctly. The guy from Tuesday should probably have read this before attempting.

Be taller than me:

We have established that this is important to me. 

Ooh, he gets one point

Be cute: 

You don’t have to be conventionally pretty by the world’s standards. 

You just have to be pretty to me. 

Yummy, he gets one point 

Be friendly: 

If you are a stick in the mud, we aren’t going to have a lot to talk about. 

Fantastic, he gets one point

Have giant muscular arms:

I like the gun show.

Purr, he gets a point for each arm.

Don’t hit on me after you have hit on all my friends: 

Minus one point per friend.

Yeeaaaaahhhhh . . . In this case, he loses three points 

Be positive:

When I say I’m gross, you say “Stop saying that.”

I like it, score one point for him

Be original:

“How much longer do you have on the treadmill?” queries he.

“About six minutes,” reply I.

“When you get done, come to the steam room,” commands he.

“What? Why?” query I.

Responds he, whilst staring at my bosoms, “So you can give me a hug . . . I’d like to ‘try that’ <leer>.” 

Minus one point for every time he has used the same pick up line on a friend.

Euw, in this case, subtract three points

But who cares?  He’s a million points down just for skeeze.  

I don’t think he will ever pull it back out of the negative.  His loss. 



Also, two funnies for you. 

Seamus would die if he knew I posted this picture.


And, a conversation between co-worker Hulk and Jimmie 

Hulk:  I would share my umbrella with you but your hair is too big.  It won’t fit.

Jimmie:  My hair is too big?  Really?!  That is FANTASTIC!

The Dating Game

Apparently I struck a nerve.  It appears that I am not the only person who is passionate about the height of the men I date.  I post one little thing about a guy being too short, and receive more comments that I ever expected: here (although these were the nice ones), on Facebook and personally.  It seems only flashing people at public swimming pools gets me more feedback but since I’ve already done that and already died a little, I don’t think I’ll venture down that road again. 

I suppose it is time to talk about what makes me tick on a more personal level, on a dating level.  I tell you about funny stuff that happens to me, and sometimes sad stuff.  I tell you about people I luff. But it’s possible that telling you those things still don’t let you “get” me.  Now I want you to “get” me.  We all may be sorry.       

To begin, I’m going to tell you that I’m no stranger to dating.  I’m no stranger to marriage.  I’ve done my fair share of the romantic relationship, sometimes to my detriment and sometimes to my joy.  Secondly, and at the risk of sounding like a floozy (which I am not), I will tell you that I have dated an assorted cast of men.  I’ve run the gamut from older to younger, stoner to business professional, intellectual to . . . not so intellectual.  There is an entirely new story to tell within those parameters, but I’m thinking more of “book” than “blog post”.  I will have a lot to say. 

For now, I want to set the record straight.  I have dated men shorter than me, for a significant amount of time even.  I have given it a shot, let my guard down and given in.  And I hated it.  Despite the fact that most of those men were very nice and charming and whatever, I felt awkward and uncomfortable.  While I am 39 now, surely an age where I’m mature and happy with who I am, I can still feel awkward and uncomfortable with the best of them with no help at all from a shorter boyfriend.   I choose not to deliberately do that to myself.

Shorter-than-me is not indicative of non-hotness.  I know this.  Look at Lenny Kravitz – Meow!  Michael J. Fox – adorable!  Mark Wahlberg – yummy! Dammit Todd  and Rickkster – I nod at you here.  I give these men their due.  I can look at these men on the big screen and drool with the best of them.  But cuteness only goes so far for enticing me to want to make out with you.  There are so many other qualities that you must possess before I take an interest, and so many things that can turn me right off of even the tallest man.  Shall I share my list with you?  Indeed, yes.   

Before I begin, I should inform you that I’m an equal opportunity discriminator.  I realize that there are millions of men who have millions of fabulous qualities that should counteract my stringent requirements.  I’m not saying that these men don’t deserve a second look.  I’m just telling you they won’t get one from me.  I have every right to do this seeing as how I have been discriminated against more than once for my height, my weight, my dislike of certain recreational activities, my age, etc.  You name it, I’ve been there.  Plus (and not to beat a dead horse here) I’m 39.  I have earned the right to be picky.  Lord knows I should have been picky MANY times in my life but chose not to for whatever reason.

So on to my list.  If you want to be my new bohunk, please read carefully.     

If you don’t love God more than you love me, do not apply.

If you smoke anything at all, do not apply. 

If your name is Gerald, do not apply.  Wait, I’m not done here.  If your name is any of the following:  Phil, Herbert, Chauncy, Dwight, Melvin, Barry, Chuck (or any variation of Charles), Kenneth, Ralph, Larry, Moe, Richard, George, or Howard and/or you have an inmate number after your name, do not apply. Dwayne was on the list originally but then Dwayne Johnson got those big old arms and those pretty teeth and I had to remove it from the no fly list.   

If you think watching NASCAR on television is a nice date, do not apply. 

If you still live with your mother because “It’s awesome”, do not apply.

If you have unaddressed dental issues, do not apply. 

Ah, a big one!  If your feet are smaller than mine, do not apply. 

If you think a comb over actually hides your bald spot, do not apply. 

If you are currently attached to someone else romantically, do not apply.

If you think video games are “amazing!”, do not apply. 

If you eat cloves of raw garlic daily in the name of good health, do not apply.

If you are an axe murderer, do not apply. 

If you want me to birth children, do not apply.

If you are not old enough to rent a car, do not apply.  Honestly, it is shocking how many young men are willing to embrace the Cougar phenomenon.  Shocking.   

Yes, I realize how picky I sound at this point . . . tough.  It’s my list. 

Lastly, and we have covered this, if you are my height or shorter than me, do not apply. 

I think that is a tidy list.  Please understand that I reserve the right to add to it as I see fit.  I hope I have offended no one, but if I did what are you gonna do about it?  Not ask me out on a date?  Been there, done that, your loss.