I admit it… I’ve been slacking on my posts. So much has been going on. In the last 2 weeks I lost 2 of my great aunts. Both of them lived long fulfilling lives but most of all they lived life on their own terms. And with the recent death of Paul Walker it has me thinking a lot about life and making sure we live it to the fullest and on our own terms. Lately I have been making it a point to enjoy life and every single moment we have here on earth. This isn’t a dress rehearsal this is the real thing. My biggest fear is waking up at the age of 60 and realizing I have let life pass me by. I will NOT let that happen. Okay I already digressed…
This is the time of year where there are birthday parties, holiday parties, and just the overall theme of getting together with friends. Because I have FOMO (fear of missing out) I usually attend everything regardless of how my body feels. Most people cannot go at the pace I go. But like I said, this isn’t a dress rehearsal this is the real thing. Not to mention, whenever people ask me how I meet the various guys I go out with, you’ll never hear me say, “He magically appeared at my house.” Why? Because you have to get out there and meet folks. The other weekend was one of those crazy weekends. One of my girlfriends was celebrating her birthday and the crew went out to Kiss N Grind. I know the name sounds real suspect. But Kiss N Grind is a party in LA that is usually once every 2 months where you go to dance and sweat. It’s not the typical Hollywood party where people are standing around trying to be cute. You put on your comfortable dance shoes and you just dance your cares away. In addition to the numerous glasses of Champagne I consumed that night and all the dancing. I partied like I was 21 again and the next morning I woke up with a massive hangover, swollen feet, and my mascara smeared all over my face. Funny thing is no matter how drunk I am I always manage to wrap my hair in my scarf. And another side note: what is it about champagne that makes me get so damn drunk and hung-over? I spent that day recuperating from the hangover. This encompassed starting the day off with a greasy turkey burger and fat fries from Fatburger and going to get my nails done and drinking what seemed to be gallons of water all day. I hadn’t been this hung-over in a long time. Lesson learned… I am no longer 21 I am a woman in my mid 30’s!
I finally felt like I was 85% to normalcy and head out to another girlfriend’s surprise party that evening. It was at a cool spot and very low key. While on the dance floor my friend’s husband grabbed a guy from the side and pulled him on the dance floor to dance with me. It was a pleasant surprise. He was tall, handsome, and he seemed real cool. We danced all night and talked. “Larry” walked me out to my car and even called me later on that evening. We talked on the phone until 1 in the morning. When I woke up the next morning I was greeted by a nice text message from “Larry.”
It was great meeting you. I look forward to hanging out with you again soon.
“Larry” was off to a nice start. When he called me later on that evening we made plans to go to Perch in Downtown LA the next evening. I loved that spot. It had great views of Downtown LA. He showed up looking good. We ordered a nice Bordeaux and proceeded to get to know each other. “Larry” was raised in…. Carson, CA. What the fuck?! Why did I keep meeting men from Carson? I tried not to pre-judge him based on my ex, and the last 3 guys I went out with from Carson. I really was practicing being open to endless possibilities. My inner loving devastated coaching me, Okay Monique, there must be a reason why you keep meeting men who are from Carson. God is trying to teach you something. BE open and for the love of God don’t roll your eyes!
As we continued to converse I discovered “Larry” sold car insurance and he was 49 years old! Oh boy! I was batting a thousand. I like dating older men but “Larry” was turning 50 in 3 months! And “Larry” had never been married, engaged, or in a long term relationship, and had no kids. When a man is 43+ and fits this criteria he already get side eye but when a man is almost half a century old and fits this criteria I’m looking at him like, “What the fuck is your deal?” As we sat there getting to know each other his phone started to vibrate.
Larry: I’m sorry this is my landlord. Let me get this real quick.
Did this motherfucker say landlord?! Was I really out with a man who was almost 50, never been married, and had no kids who didn’t own his own place. Now before you start judging me let me just say this. I get that LA is expensive. I’m not expecting a single man to live in a mansion. Also, when a man has been married and divorced with kids and is paying child support and alimony I can completely understand him having financial issues. But this man was almost 50 damn years old. What the hell was he doing? But again, I realized I was jumping ahead and quite frankly I Was being a judgmental bitch. Hell, I didn’t own my condo. This man was really nice and I had to tell myself to have several seats. We ended up having another glass of wine on the rooftop checking out the view and then “Larry” looked me in my eyes with the utmost sincerity.
Larry: I’m worried I am not going to live up to your expectations.
ME: What do you mean?
Larry: You seem like the type that’s used to dating big time corporate executives, doctors, lawyers, or athletes. I’m just worried I’m not going to measure up.
Me: I have in the past. But you’re college educated man. You’re no slouch.
Larry: I know. I just want to make sure I can be on the level you’re used to.
That was honest. Had I been so jaded and put myself in such a box when it came to dating that perhaps I was being too regimented? I decided right then and there that I would really be open and give this brotha a chance. So far he had been cool and very attentive. I wasn’t going to downplay the red flags but I wasn’t going to put on my running shoes yet and scratch him off the list.
“Larry” walked me to my car. He gave me a respectable kiss and he made plans to take me out again two nights later….
To Be Continued…
Disclaimer: If you are a man who is born and raised in Carson, CA or anywhere close to that area. Please do NOT read this post. You will be offended…
It was nice to have a little break and have a little bit of consistency with one person. But then again, a part of me missed the excitement and the newness of meeting someone new. I am keenly aware this is only because the last person really wasn’t the right person. I must believe that when it’s right it’s right. If I’ve said it once I have said it time and time again. I get so tired of TV shows, movies, books, etc. making it seem like it is so hard for a black woman to meet a man and go on a damn date. That is absolute bullshit. And some Simpletons are actually buying into that foolishness. STOP! Going on dates is the easy part. Meeting your soul mate, well that’s a different story. If you’re willing to be patient and have faith along the journey you will meet the right man. All in due time. Anyway, I am already digressing.
I was set up on a set up last weekend. My close girlfriend and her fiance were having a fight party at their house. When I arrived at their home and they let me through the gates I noticed a beautiful Range Rover sitting in their drive way. When my friend and her husband both came out to greet me I was excited for my friend. I assumed in addition to the massive diamond engagement ring her fiance got her, and the beautiful new home that reminded me of a resort they just moved into he had also bought her a brand new shiny white range rover with cream navy trimmed seats and wood paneling.
Me: Bitch!!! I see you got a new car!
Girlfriend: No that’s not mine, it’s your man’s.
Me: My what?
Girlfriend’s Fiance: I have someone I want you to meet inside.
Me: Oh boy! He better not be a fool.
Girlfriend’s Fiance: Now let me be clear. I just met him recently. But he seems like a cool guy. Let’s see what happens.
Girlfriend: Exactly. No pressure.
That’s all part of being single, the match making attempts by your well meaning friends. And I didn’t mind. It’s always nice for a man to come with references. I remember them mentioning him a few weeks ago. “Jerold” was a 46 year old, divorced sports agent. He was married for 15 years and had two kids. According to my girlfriend’s fiance he was looking to get married again and he was definitely interested in having more kids. After the last guy I dated I realized if I was going to date a man in his 40’s who had children of a certain age. I needed to know upfront if he was open to having kids. Just a side note for any man who is being nosy and reading my blog, if you do not want to have any more kids or if there is a shadow of a doubt that you want to have kids. Then you do not get the luxury of dating a woman who is younger than you who does not have any children. It’s downright selfish and ignorant. Seriously, you get to have your family and you have the audacity to think that you can convince a woman who does not have children not to have kids of her own? Have several seats! There I go digressing again!
They figured meeting him at their fight party would be less pressure that I straight up blind date. This way I could see him in his environment and observe him from a distance. Now that was a great idea. When you’re meeting a guy on a blind set up there are a few thoughts that cross a woman’s mind.
1- I hope this man is somewhat attractive.
2- I hope he speaks in complete sentences.
3- I hope this man isn’t a fool.
4- I hope I haven’t already met this man before and turned his ass down.
These thoughts crossed my mind as I walked into my girlfriend’s massive beautiful home. I sat down the wine and sweet potato pies I baked in the kitchen. I looked up and there was “Jerold.” He was about 5’10, stocky (luckily he didn’t have a massive gut), with a low fade. His nails were a little too buffed out. I would prefer that a man’s manicure not look like he had on clear nail polish (that’s just a shallow side note). My girlfriend’s fiancée introduced us. He smiled and it revealed silver braces. He had on a nice button down lavender shirt, with “diamond” cuff links and his full name (first and last name) monogrammed on the cuffs of the shirt, snake skin loafers, and jeans. I put my hand out to shake his hand. “Jerold” pulled me towards him and gave me a big hug.
Jerold: I don’t do handshakes. I’m a hugger.
As he hugged me he buried his nose in my neck.
Jerold: You smell good. What kind of perfume is that?
I told him. (I’m not revealing my secret perfume so a bunch of people start walking around smelling like me :-)). He saw my sweet potato pies and his eyes lit up.
Jerold: Did you make these?
Me: I did, from scratch.
Jerold: Your man must love your cooking.
I attempted not to roll my eyes at the sheer corniness. And he had a big smile on his face which exposed his mouth full of braces again. Has he never heard of Invisilign?! But my inner loving diva kicked in, Don’t be a bitch. He’s just trying to break the ice. Besides you always said you want a man that is well groomed. At least he’s trying to get his teeth fixed. I took a deep calming breath and decided to be open minded.
Me: Well, I’m actually single.
Jerold: I guess today is my luck day.
I just smiled. When the guys left the kitchen I told my girlfriend to pour me a glass of wine IMMEDIATELY. Sometimes a slight buzz can make any situation better. Actually I think that is always the case! I grabbed a plate of food and made my way into the living room where the two other couples were sitting and chowed down. Of course they set it up where I had to sit next to “Jerold.” So I decided to make the best of the situation. “Jerold” was born and raised in… Carson. YUCK! That was a complete turn off. My ex was from there. And had I nothing good to say about that area. It’s essentially two traffic lights from Compton. And generally speaking people who are from there think that they aren’t from the hood because it’s not Compton. But when you’re spitting distance from the hood, well, you’re from the hood. I damn near broke out in hives when he said that. But I was trying to be open. My inner loving diva chimed in, “Not all people from Carson are ignorant, close minded, fronting wannabes like your ex… Breathe.” I also looked over at my girlfriend who knew me so well and she winked and tilted her glass of wine as a signalfor me to have a sip and relax. Then “Jerold” informed us that Monday was his birthday.
Me: That’s exciting, what do you have planned?
Jerold: Originally I was supposed to be in Europe.
ME: Oh really which part?
Jerold: I was starting off in Paris and then heading over to London.
Me: Two of my favorite cities. I used to live in London.
Jerold: Which part?
Me: Camden Town. When are you leaving?
Jerold: The trip got postponed to the end of next week.
Me: So what are you going to do for your birthday now that you’ll be on town?
Jerold: I don’t know yet where would you like me to take you?
Me: You’re going to take ME out for YOUR birthday? That’s very nice of you.
Jerold: We should go to Nobu in Malibu.
Alright now, things were looking up! I could over look a railroad on someone’s teeth and over the top “diamond” cuff links for a man with good taste in restaurants. Braces eventually come off and I can tweak the hell out of a wardrobe!
Jerold: Let me call my driver so I can make arrangements for us to get picked up.
Jerold then took out his phone and proceeded to dial his driver right then and there on SPEAKERPHONE!
Jerold: My man, what’s up?
Driver: Who’s calling?
Jerold: It’s me, Jerold.
Driver: How can I help you?
Jerold: It’s my birthday on Monday and I’m gonna need two pickups.
Driver: Okay, just send me the details. It will be an extra charge for the additional pick ups.
Jerold: Have you ever had a problem with payment?
Jerold: You just said there was gonna be an extra charge. You know my money is riiiiight. I got you covered.
The driver hung up. And I sat there so turned off. Was I supposed to be impressed? Did he not realize I used a car service on the regular basis? And to make the call on speaker phone? Really? Typical LA guy. Typical fronting Carson guy! But I didn’t want to generalize. The fight was over and as usual when it is a group of men and women the conversation quickly turned to relationships. My girlfriend’s fiance was one of those men who enjoyed deep grown and sexy conversations. “Jerold” started talking about his divorce.
Jerold: My divorce cost my over $1M. My problem is I have a tendency to pick women who are like projects.
I swear my head spinned around in a complete 360 full turn like the fucking Exorcist.
Me: What do you mean by projects?
Jerold: You know what I mean. Women who don’t really know what they want in life. I help them find their potential. With the young lady I dated recently she wanted to start a clothing line so I helped her out. She just needed someone to recognize her potential and go from there.
Me: Well, what if a woman doesn’t need your help and she has her own shit. Then what?
Jerold: Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’m looking for a woman who needs to be guided. At this point I want a woman who has her own shit together. I’m like show me a credit report. If her shit ain’t on point I’m not taking it on.
Then my girlfriend’s fiance piped in.
Girlfriend’s Fiance: Wait a minute my man. You’re kind of contradicting yourself.
Jerold: How so?
Girlfriends Fiance In one breath you’re saying you have a tendency to take on projects to help a woman find their potential. But right before that you said if a woman’s credit isn’t together you wouldn’t deal with her at all? That doesn’t make sense. If you love someone you are going to try to help them reach their full potential my man.
Jerold: No that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying I’m all about helping someone reach their potential. I just don’t want to be in a situation where they don’t have shit and I’m doing ll the work.
That’s the thing about having these healthy debates with other men. They will ask the questions you want to know and check someone n a heartbeat if they aren’t making sense. I got to sit back and listen to what this fool had to say. My girlfriend’s fiance was like a brother and he knew exactly what he was doing. He was gathering information for me! I love when my friends marry men who have some damn sense!!!! We talked for a few more hours about relationships and life. “Jerold” was contradicting himself left and right. The night was coming to an end I was helping my girlfriend clear up the kitchen.
Girlfriend: What did you think? And before you answer, let me be clear, we don’t really know him too well. My honey just met him a few weeks ago and you know he got all excited when he found out he was single. He’s ready for us to take trips together and do double dates!
Me: What was up with calling his driver on speaker phone? What the fuck was that?
Girlfriend: I know!
Me: See that’s that New Money shit that I can’t tolerate. AND he’s from Carson?!
Girlfriend: I know you wanted to die.
Me: You know I did. Last time I went out with someone from Carson, I discovered they changed the numbers on their Mercedes so instead of the numbers reading S430 which was already a nice car it said S500 just so he could front. Of course I found that out after I was already married to his dumb ass.
Girlfriend: I know! I know! But just be open. He was just trying to impress you. You know the problem is a lot of these LA bitches are impressed by shit like that and men feel the need to keep doing that kind of shit thinking that it will impress all of us.
Me: Okay. I’m going to be open about this. We will see. Something just isn’t adding up. I can’t put my finger on it. But my antenna is definitely up.
My girlfriend and I had a good laugh and then of course the inevitable came. “Jerold” was heading out and asked for my phone number. Good Lawd. I reluctantly gave it to him. About an hour later he sent me a text.
Jerold: Hey MK! Great meeting you. Had a blast. Gotta pick up where we left off.
Me: Nice meeting you as well.
TO BE CONTINUED
Some of you are probably asking why in the world I would go out with a man who was unattractive and old. This was the first time in my life I was dating just to be dating. I spent my 20’s dating with one end goal in mind… To get married (and we already know how that ended up). So I wanted to date just for fun. I figured it was good practice for when I met a man I actually liked, I wouldn’t be dusty! “Jason” had a Saturday afternoon date all planned out. He gave me directions to his house in Venice Beach. Venice Beach can be a little tricky. There are places there that are absolutely stunning oceanfront homes. And then there are other places that are shy of being a crack house. It is literally those two extremes. The way, he described his tastes in art and furniture, I assumed he lived in one of those fabulous homes or condos on the beach or near the beach. After all this man was almost 50! You know what they say about ASS-U-ME-ing. As my navigation directed me to the Venice Beach area and had me make my final right onto the street and announced my destination was on the right hand side I just knew I had to wrong place. I checked the text message with the address one more time against my navigation system. The addresses matched. I was parked in front of an old ass building with chipped paint and bars on the windows. I looked to the right where there were dumpsters and there was a homeless man going through the garbage. He finally found a sandwich, began eating it, and walked off. Oh shit!!! There was no way I was about to park Freedom (the name for my convertible Audi) anywhere near this place. I called “Jason” to let him know I had arrived. I was hoping and praying he had accidentally given me the wrong address.
Me: Hey Jason. I think I’m here. Are you sure you gave me the right address?
Jason: Yeah. I’m on my way. I’ll be there in 5 minutes. You can park in the back of my building in space 5.
Me: Um… Are you sure my car is safe here?
Jason: (laughing) Of course! You’re fine.
Me: Okay, because I have a convertible. I don’t want anyone to rip the top off and try to steal it.
Jason: No you’re fine. My car is the silver BMW. Just park behind my car. I’ll see you in a second.
Alright, so he has a BMW. So I figured my car would be safe. I drove to the back of the building and looked for parking spot #5. I saw an old BMW parked there. When I say old, I mean old. The shit had to be from 1982. AND it was propped up where it appeared to be missing the front passenger wheel. What the fuck?! Just as I was about to put my car in reverse and get the fuck out of there, I saw a man riding a bike in my direction. I squinted my eyes and saw it was “Jason.” This fool was wearing some Sear Sucker shorts, a white button up shirt, a bow tie, and a straw hat. This bitch looked like Bojangles!
Jason: Hey there. Where are you going? You can park here.
Me: I was about to… Ummmm…
Jason: Come on up for a drink. I also wanted you to see the Dali painting I was telling you about. I had an interior decorator come and do my spot. Come check it out.
Me: You’re sure my car is okay?
Jason: What’s up with you and this damn car? I already told you, you’re fine! Come on, I have a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc chilling in the freezer.
Well at least this fool knew how to make my ass stay. Besides the traffic on the 405 was like a fucking parking lot. I had driven all the way up here, the least I could do was stay for a cocktail. I followed him up the steps to his spot. And he was describing all the detail that went into decorating. I figured, maybe this was one of those buildings that looked like shit from the outside but inside it was really nice. I tell ya I can be such a judgmental bitch at times. Anyway I digressed… We got to his front door and he opened it up. “Ta-da!” I stepped into the smallest apartment I had ever seen. It was smaller than a studio apartment although it was a one bedroom. The walls were covered in art, I’ll give him that. It’s was decorated very tastefully, I’ll give him that. But that shit was so damn small. This man was about to be 50 and this place would have been acceptable for any man in his 20’s but this made no damn sense. He walked me over to a sketching he had on his wall.
Jason: This is the Dali I was telling you about.
I walked up as close as I could. My nose was probably less than an inch away from the frame. My first inclination was to scream, “Either you’re a stupid ass and got, got. Or you think I’m a stupid as that can get, get!” There was no way on God’s green earth that was an authentic Salvador Dali piece. If this dumb ass could afford a piece of that type of artwork he certainly wouldn’t be living in this shoe box he called a home! But I decided to be nice and go along with the act. So we sat down on his couch and had a glass of wine.
Jason: I wanted to give you a present.
Me: Really? You don’t have to.
Jason: No I insist. I really appreciate you giving a brotha a chance and not letting age get in the way.
Me: As long as you’re up front with me we are all good.
Jason reached over and picked up the large 3 wick candle that was sitting on his coffee table.
Jason: I figured this would be nice and relaxing for you. It has a nice settle scent.
I started cracking up. Seriously, he was too funny.
Me: Jason, you are a fool! You crack me up!
Jason: What’s so funny?
Me: You pretending to give me an already used candle as a gift. That was a good one!
Jason: No I’m serious. I only used it once.
That’s when I realized he was dead ass serious. I was expecting Ashton Kutcher to jump out of his back room and the camera crew to hop out from wherever they were hiding. This really couldn’t be happening. When 30 seconds went by it settled I wasn’t on a non-celebrity episode of Punked!
ME: Thanks! Why don’t I just set it down here until I leave?
I had no intention of bringing that shitty candle home. Just as I slammed back my glass of wine. There was a car passing by with loud music. You know when a car is blasting its music so damn loud you can feel the vibrations in your house. It was that loud. I figured it would pass by but it sounded like it was getting louder and louder. “Jason” jumped up. “Our ride is here. My boy has his own cab and I knew we would be drinking so he’s giving us a ride to the restaurant.” He opened his front door I walked out and there was a cab waiting for us outside blasting gangster rap! “Jason” introduced us. I reluctantly got into the cab. As we passed various cars, the drivers and/or passengers looked over at the cab with disgust and rolled up their windows. With each mile we drove I sank lower and lower into the back seat hoping I would not be seen.
Jason: I remember you mentioned you like Oysters; I’m taking you to a spot in Santa Monica that you’ll love. Then we’ll walk down the street to the spot where I work.
Me: I thought you were a writer?
Jason: Well, yeah I do that too. But sometimes I… Uh… help out my friend at his bar and I’ll bartend if he’s shorthanded.
I gave him major side eye. I was no dummy. This asshole wasn’t a damn writer. He was a damn bartender. Now it made sense why his ass knew all the bartenders around LA. Typically when you are a waiter or bartender you know other waiters and bartenders and hang out and hook people up with free drinks! Oh my goodness. We pulled up to the elegant spot, loud music blasting. I hopped out of the taxi so fast and practically sprinted into the restaurant. I was hoping no one saw me and associated me with this foolery. Of course when “Jason” came in the first thing he did was say hello to the bartender before we were escorted to our table in the small packed restaurant. When we sat down the bartender sent us over a bottle of Rose. “Jason” was one of those men who liked to strike up conversation with people he didn’t know. The restaurant was small and packed so it was almost like a community table. “Jason’s” loud ass began to strike up conversation with a group of young ladies who were sitting at the table next to us. After he ordered our food a huge sampler plate of various seafood came to the table of the ladies sitting next to us. “Jason’s” bug eyes got even bigger as the waiter placed the tower on their table.
Jason: What’s that?
Lady at Table Next to Us: The seafood tower.
Jason: That looks real good. I might order that. Can I try some?
Lady at the Table Next To Us: Ummmm…. Uh…. Oooo-kay?
With that “Jason” grabbed his bread plate and proceeded to grab a few shrimp, crab legs, and oysters off the young ladies seafood tower and take some of the various sauces and pour a little on his plate. I wanted to die! I wanted to run out of the restaurant. Mortified doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt! He asked if I wanted some. I said no before he could even get the sentence out. There was a couple who was sitting at the table on the opposite side of us who observed this fiasco. They saw my face. I gave them a look of HELP ME!!! So the man tried to lighten the mood of the situation.
Gentleman: (to Jason) Your date is a very pretty woman. She’s a class act. You’re one lucky man!
Jason: Who her? She alright.
Gentleman’s Date: She seems wonderful!
Me: Thank you.
Jason: Naw. She’s just alright. (begins laughing)
That’s when I had officially had enough. Here I Was sitting across from a complete moroon and someone is giving me a compliment and all his ass could say was I’m ALRIGHT? With that I grabbed my purse and stood up.
Jason: Where are you going?
Me: I’m leaving.
I walked out the restaurant. And I forgot my fucking car was at his house. So I walked to the corner to see if I could hail a taxi. I didn’t see one in sight (this was before the Uber days). Shortly after Bojangles came out of the restaurant.
Jason: What’s wrong with you? We still have oysters coming.
Me: I’m done! How dare you just say I’m alright when someone compliments me? Who the fuck do you think you are?
Jason: You’re trippin’! I was just playing.
Me: The shit wasn’t funny and I don’t appreciate it.
Jason: (throwing his hands up in the air) Get the fuck outta here. You’ve been tripping all day with your bourgeois ass. Fine then go the fuck home! I don’t have time for this shit.
Me: Then bring your broke, wanna be Bojangles, 50 year old, living in a shack, waiter ass wanna be a writer ass back in the fucking restaurant. That’s what I get for associating with hired help!
Jason: Fuck you!
Me: Fuck you! I can’t believe I gave your ugly ass the time of day!
Jason: Fuck you!
I saw a taxi pulling up. Thank goodness. But I still had to have the last word because at that point I didn’t give a shit. As I grabbed the handle of the taxi to open the door I stuck him with my parting words hoping to cut him with my tongue.
Me: And by the way, give your son a call. On top of being an ugly ass broke fuck you seem to be shitty father too. Go fuck yourself and never ever call me again.
I hopped in that taxi so fast and prayed that he wasn’t going to try to reach in and grab me and kill me. I told the taxi to get me back to his address as soon as I could. I prayed that a) he hadn’t called someone to wait for me at his house to kill me or b) had someone vandalize my damn car. Why oh why can’t I learn how to just keep my mouth shut sometimes?! Why oh why do I always have to have the last word?! When we got to his house I had the taxi driver drive me to the back and wait for me until my car started and I was driving off. I even asked him to follow me until I got to the freeway. Thank God the driver was so accommodating.
I made it safely back to my home. I called at least 5 of my girlfriends and told them what happened. The reactions were all the same. What?! No way…. You gotta to be kidding me… what a stupid ass… I am so glad you are okay and weren’t hurt… And the conclusion that all of them came up with was… You gotta write a book about your dates!
The next morning I woke up. I was still in a state of rejuvenation since the Maui trip despite that little speed bump from the night before. I went in my mediation room and did my usual journaling, praying and meditation and sat in silence for a few minutes. And suddenly I began to have a flashback of that date, which was by far the worse date in the history of my 30+ years on this earth. I flashed back to all of the other dates I had been on in the last year, and in my 20’s. I flashed back to me and my girlfriends meeting up for drinks later on to discuss all the dates. The laughter, the disappointments, the lessons, the horrors, and it hit me… These stories must be shared if for nothing else pure entertainment or life lessons. I even thought back to the journey life had taken me on through my marriage and ultimately the divorce. I realized I could use my stories and hopefully help others through their journey and let them know they were not alone. And with that I began this blog and Confessions of a Serial Dater in LA was delivered….
©Monique Kelley and Confessions of A Serial Dater In LA, 2013-2017 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Monique Kelley and Confessions of A Serial Dater In LA with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. Copying my posts and changing some of the words is still plagiarism.