The Chef

I’ve always been a fan of great food, especially expensive, high quality food I couldn’t often afford, so dating a chef had always been an appealing idea. I just wasn’t sure how to meet one. I mentioned this one day to my friend Mary who worked for a high end, fancy hotel. Mary is the type of person who is blunt, to the point, and gets things done with no fear or shame. When she told me she would find me a single chef, I believed her. Sure enough, she called me a week later and told me she’d spoken to not just any chef, but the head chef at the hotel, who happened to be single. I was thrilled. Until she said, “but there is just this one thing…..” uh-oh. There always has to be a “but.” She told me he was a little on the older side. I asked her if by older she meant a few years ahead of me or had he gone to high school with my grandfather. She said she wasn’t sure, but if she had to guess, he might be 50.…possibly older. I told her I was past the “date someone old enough to be my father” phase and 50-ish was too old. She talked to me more about it, trying to change my mind over the next couple of weeks. She’d apparently told him all about me and he was dying to set up a date. He’d already left a message for me, to which I hadn’t yet responded. I explained to Mary I didn’t see the point in starting something that clearly wouldn’t go anywhere. She said he looked young for his age, expressed to me again what an exceptional chef he was, and mentioned that some of the staff had run into him on the beach while he was surfing (hmm, a surfer, that doesn’t sound like a grandfather.) They’d told her he had a great body and that he seemed so youthful and fun. Well, maybe I could give it a shot, I wouldn’t want “dating a chef” to end up on my bucket list.

I decided one night while I was pretty tipsy (always when I make my best decisions), that I would call him and tell him I’d love to meet for dinner. He sounded thrilled to hear from me and said he’d love to meet up. So we scheduled a date.

We decided to meet at a sushi restaurant he recommended. I started to get excited, thinking maybe this fancy chef who surfs, has a hot body, looks young, makes a great living, and can whip up a lobster dinner for me might just be a great thing. Maybe I’d been too judgmental about the situation. Then I saw him. Maybe not. We said hello and sat down. I had seen only one picture of him from his hotel’s website. He did not look like that picture. He wasn’t terrible looking, but his face had so many more wrinkles then the deceiving picture had shown, his hair looked like a small child had cut it using a weed whacker, and his teeth were a little too big for his mouth. But I was determined not to judge at first glance. I told myself the wrinkles were from all of the surfing he does. Then when I asked him about his surfing, he looked confused and said he’d never been on a surfboard in his life. Apparently the surfer chef was one of his employees. I wondered if that chef was single, while I silently cursed Mary for all of the misinformation. I decided to make the best of the situation. As we chatted I found out he had been divorced not just once, but three times, and had a child from each marriage. Wow. So at least he didn’t have any baggage. More sake please.

After 3 shared bottles of sake, a glass of wine, and a shot of tequila, I was actually enjoying my night with the old, divorced, funny haired chef. He asked if I wanted to continue the night at a nearby bar which had a live band. I said sure, why not. We talked more, drank more, danced a little, then went back to his apartment since it was right near by. He said he was going to use the restroom and would be right back. I sat on the bed which is the last thing I remember before the sake and tequila infused buzz took over.

The next thing I know I’m waking up in a bed, confused as to where I am. I’m fully clothed at least, and I’m laying on someone’s arm. It’s hard to remember who at first through my hazy hangover. Damn you tequila. I looked around and started to remember. Chef looked at me and smiled, and I asked what had happened. He said he came back from the restroom and I was out cold on the bed, so he just let me sleep. He said he wasn’t used to anyone sleeping in his bed, but it had been nice, and told me to rest while he went to get us muffins and coffee. He was wearing outdated looking glasses, and I watched him put on a ridiculous looking visor and Hawaiian shirt (which were both things my dad wore growing up) and as I listened to the 50’s music playing on his radio, I realized this just wasn’t going to work out. After he came back with coffee and muffins I said I needed to get going. He kissed me goodbye and told me how excited he was to spend time with me and said he couldn’t wait to see me again. I didn’t want to burst his bubble so I just smiled and said goodbye.

Chef called the next day to ask when I’d be free so he could make me dinner, and while tempted to see what amazing dish he’d whip up, I said I was busy all week. I figured I’d just slowly blow him off and he’d eventually get the hint. He didn’t let me off that easy. He called again the next evening and lured me in with the promise of a fancy homemade meal full of things like filet mignon, mussels, and homemade dessert. I finally agreed to dinner that weekend. I thought, why not get at least one great meal out of it before I move on. He did seem like a nice, normal man after all. That is until the next evening when he called again, and he seemed pretty intoxicated. He wasn’t making a whole lot of sense, he kept calling me baby and slurring , and was acting lovey-dovey and a bit too serious. I decided it would probably be best to cancel the “harmless” dinner date. While I tried to figure out how to get out of the date, he proceeded to not only call me often, but also email me as well. More often then not he seemed drunk and out of it. I realized this could quite possibly be the reason he’d been divorced 3 times. He may have been an amazing chef but, it seemed, a closet drunk as well.

After procrastinating until the morning of our date, I finally called to cancel. I told him I wasn’t feeling well and was so sorry I wouldn’t be able to make it. He seemed really disappointed and told me he understood and looked forward to rescheduling. He then called later to leave a long, drunken message telling me about the fancy dinner he’d had to eat alone, and mumbled some other things I couldn’t quite understand. After that I started avoiding his many calls, and he finally left a message one day saying, “Hey Parker. So if you don’t want to see me anymore, or if this isn’t working out for you, then just tell me. I mean, just call me and tell me. Let’s just be honest with each other here.” Be honest. O.k. You’re an old, thrice divorced drunk who has hair like a chia pet, teeth resembling a rabbit's, and you dress like my dad. You came on way to strong and you’re acting like we had a relationship even though it was only one date. One date, on which, I had to get liquored up in order to enjoy, and I can’t remember the end of the evening because I passed out on your bed. Oh, and since we’re being honest, I only agreed to go out with you, despite your age, because I’d been given false information and thought you were someone else who was supposed to be younger, hotter, and more fit. You should change the picture on your website because you don’t look like that anymore and most of the time I don’t understand what you’re saying because of all the slurring. That's what I wanted to say. What I actually said to him was that my life was very busy at the moment and if I had any free time in the future I’d let him know. He finally stopped calling after that, though Mary told me he’d ask about me from time to time. I heard recently that he is still single (shocker) and still seeking wife #4. I do still have an appetite for delicious food, but I decided it may be best to pay my compliments to the chef from afar.

The Inflight Boyfriend

It was on a flight from California to New York that I met Miguel. I had claimed him during boarding as my I.F.B. or “inflight boyfriend” (which is a term flight attendants use to describe the boys or men we find attractive and secretly hope to flirt with during the flight.) He was tall dark and handsome, and dressed in a suit, (which was a bonus since I’m a sucker for a man in a suit.)

After we’d taken off, I was disappointed to see that he was completely knocked out. He was so fast asleep that when I walked through the aisle, and accidentally kicked him in the leg so hard I was certain I must have broken a bone, he didn’t even budge. Then, when I walked through later, his long leg was once again in the aisle and I accidentally kicked it again even harder. Oops! I opened my mouth to begin apologizing profusely but he was still out cold.

An hour later, while walking through the aisle, I saw that my I.F.B. was finally awake. I asked him if his leg was sore, and when he looked confused I explained the encounter I’d with his leg while he’d been passed out. I told him I was shocked he hadn’t woken since I’d kicked him so hard…twice. He laughed and told me he wouldn’t hold it against me. I asked if I could bring him a cocktail as a peace offering for roughing him up, but he declined. He said he’d had quite a bit to drink at the wedding he’d just come from and needed to recover. I told him, in my most flirtatious tone, to let me know if he changed his mind.

A while later I was in the galley chatting with my coworker about my I.F.B, and telling her it was a shame I'd more than likely never see him again. While there were plenty of attractive men on our flights, most of them didn't usually ask us out. Just as I was complaining about this fact, my I.F.B walked up right behind me. My coworker stifled a giggle and made an excuse to leave us alone. He formally introduced himself, his name was Miguel, and then he proceeded to ask me out to dinner. I was thrilled. I said I’d love to and gave him my number.

A couple of days later Miguel called and we made dinner plans for the following evening. We met at the restaurant and I almost didn’t recognize him out of his suit. He still looked cute, but in his t-shirt and flat rimmed ball cap, he appeared to be about 10 years younger then I’d originally guessed he was. When I asked, he told me he was only 23, but said he truly felt age was just a number. I wasn't completely sold on his 'age is just a number' theory, but he was charming on our date, and a gentleman when he paid the bill. We ended up having a great evening and we even made plans for the weekend. His friend was having a party and I told him I’d bring my single girlfriend Taylor.

On the night of the party, Taylor and I got decked out in our party dresses and heels. I told her there should be some cute single guys there to mingle with so she was excited. That is until we got to the “party.” We walked in and my first realization was that we were ridiculously overdressed. Miguel’s original suit attire had been deceiving, because he apparently had a uniform of a t-shirt, ball cap, and sneakers. As did everyone else there, (and when I say everyone I’m referring to the 5 other people that attended.) Miguel greeted me with a kiss and I introduced him to Taylor, who was shooting me a look that said: I cannot believe you dragged me to this, you owe me big. (I’d known Taylor for years and we’d become very good at having full conversations without speaking a word.) I shot her a look back that said: I know, I’m so sorry, we won’t stay long I promise.

Miguel asked if we’d like a drink, and in unison Taylor and I too quickly said, “Yes please!” (One of the other things I loved about Taylor was our mutual appreciation of alcohol, especially when it was needed to assist in an undesirable situation such as this “party.”) Miguel had us follow him to the backyard where he pulled 2 cans of Bud light out of a cooler, which was located next to the beer pong table. Oh holy f*ck, I’m at a frat party. And really beer in a can?! Sigh. I refused to make eye contact with Taylor, who was now pinching my arm, since I knew exactly what her look was going to say. I was determined to try and make the best of the situation, so I finished my can of beer and dragged Taylor with me on a hunt for some real liquor, while Miguel was busy setting up for beer pong. We found a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen and proceeded to down enough to make us forget we were about to play beer pong in heels.

After the night of the "party," I decided Miguel was just too young for me and I was going to blow him off. He didn’t make it quite that easy. He could tell I wasn’t thrilled with his age, the party, etc., and insisted I let him take me to dinner again. He was very persistent so I finally agreed. I began to think I may have been wrong to judge, that perhaps despite his age and attire, he was a guy worth giving a chance to. Then I met him at the restaurant he suggested for our date, and walked into a “Taco Tuesday” themed night where the tacos were 3 for a dollar, and drunk people were already spilling their beers on me as I walked by. When I found Miguel he gave me a hug and introduced me to his friend from work, who was apparently joining us for dinner. Umm, first of all, tacos aren’t dinner and not only does inviting a friend from work make this no longer a date, but this friend was a female who had the most obvious crush on him. Really?! Why did I agree to this and why was the double shot of tequila I’d ordered not here yet?! After enduring as much as I could take of feeling like a third wheel on my own date, I told Miguel I had to get home. He looked slightly surprised and told me he’d call me later.

Miguel did try calling but I never called him back. I decided I’d prefer to carry on solo in my journey of finding a man who: A) doesn’t look like he rides a skateboard to work, B) agrees that 5 people playing beer pong is NOT a party, and C) who understands that a date is not an appropriate place to invite a female coworker who clearly wants to see you naked.

The Kiwi (Part 3)

As I landed on the ground I felt horrible pain in my leg, so I was pretty sure I was alive, but was convinced my leg must be broken. Ted came running over asking if I was o.k. I couldn’t respond with anything other than a moan. Ted’s dad wasn’t quite as sympathetic. I heard him say, “Give her a minute, just give her a minute, she’ll be fine.” When I finally opened my eyes, all I wanted to know was what happened to my leg. Despite the fact that several men were standing all around me, I stood up and said, “I’m sorry, but I need to see what happened to my leg,” as I proceeded to drop my pants. I was reminded then, by the breeze hitting my ass, that I had chosen to wear thong underwear that day. The men quickly turned their heads away, and I heard the farm hands snickering, but my focus was on my leg which did not appear broken. Thank God. There was a huge lump and bruise forming which, as the day went on, turned black as night and covered my entire thigh. Needless to say the horseback riding was done for the day. Ted’s dad drove us back towards the house, stopping along the way to herd in a few sheep. Not only did he seem unconcerned about my leg, but he had Kylie and I help guide a few sheep into their proper place. I wasn’t the biggest help with the huge limp I’d now adopted, but we were guests on the farm, so I didn’t want to be rude.

Over the next few days Kylie and I decided to go off on our own for 2 weeks without Ted. I figured I owed her some girl time. She’d been such a good sport about the new relationship I was devoting most of my attention to. We rented a car and mapped out the towns we would stop and stay in. The first destination we’d picked was a pretty far drive. We decided we’d save money on a hotel by driving straight through most of that night and sleeping in the car for a while when we got tired. When it got too dark on the roads (which didn’t have street lights) we decided to pull over, park, and try to sleep. With the car off it was absolutely freezing. We must have put on every piece of clothing in our suitcases, and about 5 pairs of socks each, but it barely helped. We concluded if we wanted to stay warm without leaving the car running all night, we’d have to cuddle. So that’s what we did, and through chattering teeth we swore to never again discuss this night. We also promised we’d book hotels for the rest of our trip.

When I woke up in the morning, I sat up to see where we’d parked, and saw children peeking in to look at us. Oh crap, where the hell were we? I saw the sign and quickly realized we were parked in front of an elementary school, not in the parking lot, but right on their front lawn. I woke Kylie up and started the car. We drove off just as the teachers were walking over to reprimand us.

Over the next 2 weeks, I called Ted often and we discussed how much we missed each other. When the 2 weeks were finally up, we joined Ted again, this time at his friend the Reverend’s house. Kylie warned me that if the Reverend turned out to be boring and preachy we were leaving again on our own. I agreed. The Reverend turned out to be a blast. Before we’d even put down luggage he was handing us stiff cocktails. By the end of the evening he had started a living room dance party and encouraged us to follow suit as he skinny dipped in the Jacuzzi. He was already an excellent host in my book.

The next day Ted had to go visit with his daughter. He kissed me goodbye and said he’d see me later that night. When Ted returned I instantly sensed the change. He was cold and distant. When I asked what was wrong, he said he’d had a conversation with his ex he didn’t feel like discussing, but that nothing was wrong. Liar. The next few days became torturous. The Ted that adored me never returned. He continued to pretend nothing was wrong, yet he wouldn’t make eye contact, or kiss me, or do any of the endearing things I’d grown accustomed to. I was completely heartbroken. Kylie tried talking to him and, though he wouldn’t tell her much either, she concluded it had something to do with his ex and his daughter. That maybe she'd heard about his new relationship and perhaps wanted him back, or made him feel guilty. Kylie also thought he seemed scared about his developing feelings since he knew we’d be leaving soon. I knew it would have been tough to maintain any type of relationship, being from opposite ends of the earth, but I was willing to do whatever it took since I believed I’d found what I was looking for with Ted. I didn’t want to show my hurt and disappointment, while he seemed to be managing just fine, so by day I pretended to be happy and at night would cry myself to sleep. Kylie knew how I truly felt and suggested it might be time to head home. I gladly agreed and we set up our flight.

Our last day in New Zealand was spent at an annual wine and food festival the Reverend insisted we go to. I decided I wasn’t going to let Ted ruin my last night in this beautiful country and made sure I drank enough wine to pretend I didn’t notice all the girls he was flirting with. Kylie and I had a blast with the Reverend, and even managed to encourage him to get a tattoo at one of the booths. He agreed and decided he’d get it on his ass, since he could hide it that way if he wanted to. He even let us pick it out. I suggested a dove holding an olive branch, since it was holy. I told him if Reverends in America were more like him I’d probably start going to church.

Towards the end of the festival, I sat by myself and watched the sun setting over the gorgeous green hills, and reflected back on the adventure I’d had here. I decided maybe it was for the best Ted had shut me out. While this country was stunning, I enjoyed living where there were more people than sheep, and I realized I deserved a man who would care enough to be there for me in a way Ted was obviously incapable of doing.

The next day we said our goodbyes. Ted pulled me aside and apologized for the way he’d acted, told me he'd been scared of the feelings that had developed since I lived so far away. He asked if he could keep in touch. I told him I would’ve appreciated this apology a lot more if it had been a week earlier, and that it was probably best at this point if we went our separate ways.

On the flight home Kylie asked how I felt about everything. I told her I felt great, and it was the truth. I would always remember this as one of the most amazing and memorable trips I’d ever taken, and Ted was a part of it all, so I’d always be thankful for that. I did, however, decide from then on that if any kiwis were going to be in my future next time I’d stick to the fruit.

The Kiwi (Part 2)

The next morning Ted picked us up bright and early and, when he saw our luggage, said he wondered if we’d left anything back home in America since it was obvious we’d brought nearly everything we owned in these suitcases. To avoid any further sarcastic commentary, we didn’t tell him we had 3 even larger suitcases we were temporarily leaving in Auckland at the place we’d been staying. He stuffed them into the back with his assortment of pots and off we went.

We drove south and the drive was stunning. I had never seen so much green. Or sheep. New Zealand had more sheep then you could possibly imagine, far more sheep then people. It was borderline disturbing. We stayed each night at a hotel on the way down to the farm, courtesy of Ben’s pot selling job. We all had a blast together, and Ted and I really started to connect. We became sort of an instant couple. When he began to feel really comfortable with us, he shared some important news. He had a 3 year old daughter from his ex-wife. And there it was: The baggage. I knew there had to be something wrong with my seemingly perfect-thus-far kiwi. (You’d think living on opposite sides of the world would have been enough for me not to let myself get attached, but apparently I was oblivious to red flags.) I decided I was o.k. with it since he seemed like a good father and we were so smitten with each other. I was having the time of my life. At one point Ted and I were discussing the topic of love and he told me I was someone he could definitely fall in love with. Uh-oh, now he’d done it. I was officially falling for my kiwi.

We finally made it to his father’s farm, which was different then any farm I’d ever seen in the states. When we first arrived, Ted took us for a ride out into the picturesque green rolling hills and stopped in the middle of one. He told us to be quiet and look to our left. We did and saw a pack of wild horses running right by us so close I could’ve reached out and touched them. It was stunning and I couldn’t help but gasp while Ted smiled at me and hugged me tightly. I was in heaven and already wondering how I could commute to my job in the states after I’d moved to New Zealand.

Later that day Ted’s dad was taking us horseback riding. When he asked us if we’d ever ridden a horse before Kylie quickly said no. Thinking it’d seem impressive to Ted, I unfortunately decided to be cocky and say that I’d done it many times before, and was a great rider. I had to mention that when riding I’d always liked to gallop ahead of everyone else because I loved riding fast. This was true but I’d only done this on trail horses, horses that were used to strange people riding them constantly, and it had also been years since I’d even sat on a horse. Me and my big mouth. I found out later that the horse they gave me to ride that day was known to be crazy and mean. The only reason they let me ride him was because: A) they thought I was a skilled rider and: B) they thought the horse was tired out from a long day and therefore wasn’t as dangerous as he normally would have been. They were wrong on all accounts.

Kylie got onto her horse, which was safely contained inside of a round fence, and was content just riding her horse in slow circles. Ted helped me up onto “crazy horse” and asked if I was o.k. I told him of course I was, that I just needed to get my bearings since it had been a while. Before that could happen crazy horse immediately sensed I had no clue as to what I was doing and panicked. He started to trot up the hill quickly. I began feeling a little nervous and tried to guide him back down. He wouldn’t listen to me, all he knew was that he wanted this foreigner off of his back. We were now at the top of the hill looking down at Ted, his dad, a couple of farm hands and Kylie trotting around in circles. Then it happened. Crazy horse started galloping down the hill towards them all as fast as he could with me on his back, my arms flailing wildly in the air, bouncing around trying desperately not to fall off, and screaming in a high pitched way that was more than embarrassing. We were getting closer and closer to the fence and crazy horse was not slowing down. Oh holy f*ck, he’s going to jump the fence. As we got to the fence I braced myself and closed my eyes, but at the last second he made a sharp right turn and stopped suddenly, sending me flying off of his back, onto the fence, and then onto the ground.....To Be Continued

The Kiwi (Part 1)

The first 10 months of my flight attendant career were spent on reserve. This meant that I was on call and had little to no say over my schedule or my life. After almost a year of this my closest flight attendant friend Kylie and I were extremely tired of being on reserve to say the least. Our airline was coming up on their slowest months of the year and, in order to avoid paying more of us then they’d need to, offered what they called R&R. A rest and relaxation period of 1 to 2 of months unpaid vacation. Kylie thought we should request the 2 months off and leave the country. I reminded her we wouldn’t be getting paid and asked how she figured we could live for 2 months without a salary. She said we’d get a job that paid us “under the table” and that we’d make it work. It took about 3 days on her part to sway me into agreeing to this crazy idea. We put in our request for R&R and waited to see if it would be awarded to us.

The following week Kylie called me ecstatic with the news that we’d gotten approved. We’d have the next 2 months off and would be heading out of the country. She suggested we go to Australia and I agreed since I’d always wanted to go there. One of our roommates was from New Zealand and told us that, if we were going that far, we had to stop in her hometown on the way. She set us up with a place to stay in Auckland and 2 weeks later we were on a plane heading to the other side of the world.

Our first night in Auckland, New Zealand, we weren’t too impressed. It just seemed like another typical city. We agreed that perhaps we should leave in a couple of days and head on over to Australia. That is until the next evening.

We stepped into a random bar to have a beer and were standing next to a couple of cute New Zealand men who, when they heard our American accents, asked if they could buy us a beer as a welcome to their country. We thanked them and began chatting. The one I found attractive introduced himself as Ted. We began flirting a bit and it turned out he was as charming as he was handsome, and while I could only understand about every 3rd word he said with his thick accent, I found it irresistible nonetheless. He asked if I’d ever met a Kiwi before I’d come to New Zealand. I was confused since I wasn’t sure why he was asking me about fruit, and he explained that “kiwi” was a slang term they used to describe natives of New Zealand. I told him that other than the delicious kiwis I'd come across in my fruit salads, no, he was the first. He gave me an amused smile and told me I was in for a real treat then.

We discussed our occupations, told them what we did, and then Ted told us he sold pots. My initial assumption was that he sold marijuana, which I was shocked he was promoting so freely, but turned out he actually sold pots. As in pots that hold plants. I couldn’t believe that was an actual job but apparently he did well selling his pots. He had the perk of getting to travel around the country while being put up in hotel rooms and also made a decent living. When I asked if they might hire two American girls to sell pots “under the table” he just gave me a look I took to mean fat chance silly American. He then turned to Kylie and I and abruptly asked, “How would you two Yanks like to see the real New Zealand? We’re leaving Auckland tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. sharp and heading down to stay on my dad’s farm with a few stops along the way. You’ll have a free place to stay as long as you’re with us. What do you say?” Kylie and I took a moment to look at each other and knew what our unanimous decision was without having to say a word. I knew we were both thinking the same thing. How often do you get a free tour, plus accommodations, in a foreign country?! I was also secretly thrilled because I had a crush on our hot tour guide Ted and this would give me an excuse to pursue that as well. We told Ted we’d love to go.

I wondered what we had in store for us and hoped it was more adventure then trouble but, with my luck, the latter was more than likely to occur............To be continued

The Pilot

One of the first rules I was taught in my earlier days as a flight attendant was to stay away from the pilots. I was forewarned that many of the pilots, who were more often than not married, would try to prey on the young attractive girls who didn’t yet know better. The rule was simple, basically stay away from them while off duty, on a layover, and especially while intoxicated. Unfortunately following the rules had never really been my strong suit.

It was one of my first layovers in San Francisco, and we’d had an extremely long day, the kind that made you desperately long for a cocktail by the end of it. So that’s what our crew collectively decided to do. There were two crews that got in at the same time to the hotel and we were all disappointed when we found out that the bar was closed. One of the pilots said he was going to have the hotel driver take him to the nearby liquor store and buy some beers for us, and told everyone to meet him down in the lobby in 10 minutes. We changed out of our uniforms and met down in the lobby where the pilot had set out not just beers for us, but also the biggest bottle of tequila I’d ever seen. Uh oh, this was definitely going against the rules. We all had a great time (how could you not after several shots of tequila,) and by the end of the evening things were beginning to get a bit fuzzy for me. The last thing I remember distinctly was standing on the table singing some song from a musical, which couldn’t have been a very pretty rendition after that much tequila. The rest of the crew were doing an equally terrible job singing backup for me. I also realized I was being a little too flirty with the cute-but-married pilot so decided I should at least attempt to follow the rules and head off to bed…alone. I knew I wouldn’t get away easily from the drunk crew and that they’d attempt talking me into staying up longer, so I decided I’d be sneaky and tell them I just needed to get something from my room and would be right back. That’s when the tequila blackout must have happened.

The next thing I knew I woke up in my hotel bed, which wouldn’t have been as disturbing if I hadn’t felt a foreign arm around my waist. Damn you tequila. I racked my brain and tried hard to remember anything at all from the previous night, anything after the point when I’d retreated to what I’d thought was the safety of my room. Blank…nothing…can’t remember a thing…DAMN YOU TEQUILA! I wasn’t in the same clothes I’d worn down to the lobby, I had apparently changed into just a t-shirt at some point. I still had no idea who was attached to this strange arm which was spooning me, oblivious to my panic. I decided there was only one way to find out. I turned around to look and, as I’d feared, there was the cute-but-married pilot smiling at me. I groaned and turned over, told him I was feeling ill from the drinking when he asked what was wrong, not sharing that I was actually feeling ill because I couldn’t believe this was happening. I decided I needed to know how this had come about and he may have been the only one who’d know. So I asked.

Here’s what allegedly happened after the tequila had thrown a dark blanket over my awareness. After I’d left the cute-but-married pilot had wondered what was taking me so long so he’d called my room. I answered the phone and told him I was staying up in my room and not coming back down. He asked me what room that was exactly and then I’d given him my room number. Brilliant idea. He’d come up to my room and knocked and apparently I’d let him in. After he’d finished the recap I asked if anything else had happened, and wondered when I had changed into the t-shirt (secretly hoping it wasn’t when he was in the room.) He told me I had already changed before he’d gotten to my room, (at least I had that going for me) and that while he’d hoped for more to happen (ew) he was a little disappointed that I’d passed out almost immediately (thank God for that.)

I told him I needed to go back to my room and recover from this hangover on my own. He reminded me we were already in my room. I told him in that case I needed him to leave my room so I could recover on my own. He looked insulted and a little pouty but he got up to leave. He sat on the bed and looked at me before he left and said, “I like you Parker, and I just have to tell you…” I prepared myself for the I’m married so don’t expect this to go anywhere speech I’d heard about from other flight attendants, and hoped he’d hurry up about it so I could nurse my hangover in peace. “I’m not looking for just a fling, I’m looking for a relationship.” He can’t be serious. I looked at him with a smirk ready to laugh but he actually was serious. “But, um….you’re married.” He told me he was “basically, for the most part” separated for now. I told him that when he was “basically, for the most part” divorced maybe we could have a different conversation but for now I really needed sleep. He stormed out, clearly not happy with my response.

I realized in that moment why the stay away from pilots rule had been put into place. I decided from then on I’d avoid tequila on layovers and make sure I wasn’t followed to my room by any cute-but-married-but-basically-for-the-most-part-separated pilots in the future.

The Flight Attendant (Part 3)

My ex-boyfriend pulled up to the airport to drop me off, got out to help me with my bags, and gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. When he stepped away from me, to get back into his car, my stomach dropped to the floor as I saw who was standing just a few feet away. Staring at me, looking crestfallen and like he’d just seen a ghost, was Ben. Damn, damn, damn. Really with my luck?! I stood there for a moment, debating whether or not to run as fast as possible in the other direction, but seeing Ben’s sad face I knew I had to deal with this situation. He came up to me rattling off questions I didn’t know quite how to answer, such as: What the hell is going on? Why wasn’t I out of the country like I said I would be? Who was the man that had just dropped me off? Did I realize how confused he was and that I was breaking his heart on his birthday? Oh my God…it was his birthday! Shit, shit, shit…I completely forgot! I’m a terrible, horrible person. I could not for the life of me think of how to rectify this situation. I told him I was so sorry that I was ruining his birthday, I'd never meant to hurt him. I tried explaining why I hadn’t called, trying to help him understand it was because I needed time to sort things out. Then I told him I had to go if I was going to catch my flight back to New York but we could talk later if he wanted to. He said he couldn’t believe that he had to feel this way for the next 5 hours without being able to talk to me more about it. I tried to give him a hug, which ended up being one sided since he wouldn’t hug me back, and boarded my flight feeling horrible about hurting Ben.

When I landed in New York, Ben had already left me 2 messages sharing some of his thoughts and insecurities which had now developed, and asked me to call him as soon as I landed. I procrastinated that conversation until I was back at the crash pad sipping a double vodka on the rocks. Ben and I proceeded to talk and argue for about 2 hours straight, the end result being I thought we needed to end things, and he was heartbroken about it.

Since we worked for the same company, and obviously had a good chance of running into each other, we remained as friendly as possible under the circumstances. That is until a couple of months down the road. Ben had a layover in New York and asked if I wanted to meet up for a drink while he was there. I met up with him and made the mistake of kissing him at the end of the night. To Ben this apparently meant we were back together. I heard through a mutual friend that’s what he was telling people. Since it was clear we couldn’t be just friends, I began to avoid Ben’s calls. I’ll admit, it wasn’t the best way of handling things, but I was out of ideas and avoidance seemed like the most appealing option.

I also began to rekindle a romance with the previously mentioned ex-boyfriend, the one who was present during the accidental birthday encounter. I had a California layover and invited him to come stay with me. I happened to be flying with my good friend Vince on that trip. Somehow Ben had heard I would be there, and decided he’d show up to confront me, since I wasn’t responding to his messages. I found this out while I was laying in bed next to my on-again-ex, and out in the hallway I heard my friend Vince on his cell phone, asking someone if they knew what room I was in. I pulled a sheet around me and peeked my head out the door. Vince saw me and asked me in a whisper who I had in the room with me. I told him who was in there and asked why we were whispering. He shook his head and told me Ben was down in the lobby trying to find out what room I was in. My eyes widened in slight panic but Vince told me not to worry. Ben had been trying to get the front desk to tell him my room number to no avail, and when he’d seen Vince had looked relieved, thinking he would point him in the right direction. Ben didn’t realize Vince couldn’t stand him and that there is no amount of money that could have swayed his loyalty to me. Vince had looked at him with a smirk, and told him it would be against the rules to give out that information, which frustrated Ben even further. Vince told me if it had been anyone other than me he would’ve loved to have given out the room number, grabbed a bowl of popcorn, and pulled up a chair to watch the show. I thanked him for fighting that cruel urge and not throwing me under the bus. I went back into my room and the hotel phone started ringing relentlessly. The front desk wouldn’t give Ben my room number, but they obviously had no problem connecting him to my room over and over again. After making up some sort of lame excuse to my on-again-ex about the disruption, I unplugged the phone.

After that day, Ben finally stopped calling. I heard about him from time to time through mutual friends, mostly about him hating me, and eventually that he had left the company. I was glad that we wouldn’t be running into each other at work anymore, but was also a little sad that we couldn’t have remained friends. He was part of a huge turning point in my life, and I would be forever thankful for his assistance in helping me find my new career. But it was time to move on to bigger and better things, because as it turns out, sometimes size does matter.

The Flight Attendant (Part 2)

If I wanted the job I had to move to New York, and in time hope that a slot opened up in the California base. I decided, what the hell, and accepted the offer. I put my belongings into storage and left Arizona. I wasn’t sure where I was going to reside yet, but since they were putting us up in hotels during training, I had a month to figure it out.

I spent a little time in California with my family and friends before I headed off to training, and I also spent time with Ben. We had been talking almost every day. He definitely had more of a romantic interest in me than I did with him but he seemed o.k. with just being friends. I expressed to him that I’d semi-recently gotten out of a far too dramatic relationship so I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I only wanted a friendship, nothing more. He told me he understood completely and said he was totally o.k. with that. Then we slept together…so there went that plan.

It happened one night while we were hanging out at Ben’s apartment drinking way too many cocktails, (which is always a bad idea by the way, ) and somehow we ended up in his bed naked. Aside from the fact I’d just broken my “we can only be friends” rule, there was now a new problem. There was a bit of a size issue. I’d always been a believer in “size doesn’t matter”…..that is until I slept with Ben. Without getting too graphic I’ll just say this: if you are unaware that you’re having sex until a few minutes into the act, that is a huge problem. I tried my best to pretend I didn’t notice, but I’m not very good at hiding my expressions, so there is a fair chance he knew exactly what I thought. I did continue to date him despite this setback. I had become attached to our friendship so I overlooked his tiny problem for the moment.

We didn’t see each other very often for the next month when I went off to training, but he became my flight attendant mentor, so we talked on the phone constantly and he answered every question I could come up with. He was exactly what I needed at that time, which was a friend I could trust and count on to be there for me. Looking back it was probably selfish on my part, since I knew he was falling for me, and I also knew that I didn’t feel exactly the same way. I still constantly told him that we were just friends, that I didn’t want a boyfriend, and he still pretended to be o.k. with that. I’m pretty sure he thought I would come around eventually on that topic, and since I wasn’t dating anyone else and called him several times a day, he didn’t take my words too seriously.

After months of trying to pretend we were just friends, I finally gave in a little, and stopped objecting when he called me his girlfriend. I even began referring to him as my boyfriend and eventually, when he said he loved me, I surprised myself by saying it back. I did love him, but more in the way that you love your favorite blanket. I felt safe with Ben. Safe in that I knew he wouldn’t break my heart and that he was always there for me. He knew exactly how to calm me down in any stressful situation and I appreciated how simple and uncomplicated our relationship was.

Towards the end of my month long flight attendant training class I started getting frustrated with Ben. Frustrated with the fact that I was now living on the opposite side of the country from him and frustrated with the realization that this wasn’t the guy for me and I knew it while he didn’t. Since I was hoping a slot would open up and allow me to transfer to the California base, I didn’t have a permanent home just yet, so I was temporarily living in what’s called a “crash pad.” I shared a room with 6 other flight attendants so this didn’t help my frustrated mood much. We started fighting more often and I told him I needed some space and time to figure things out. I planned a trip to Europe with a friend and told Ben I really needed to think about everything while away. He told me he supported whatever I felt I needed and we agreed to talk next when I got back in a few weeks.

Two days before my friend and I were supposed to leave she had a family emergency and we had to postpone our trip. I debated what to do next, whether or not I should tell Ben I hadn’t left the country after all. I ultimately decided against it. I figured we’d already said our goodbyes, I told him I needed time to think, so it was best to just take the time for myself. I decided to fly to California and visit family and friends. At the end of my California trip I ran into an old boyfriend and we spent a couple of days catching up. Nothing romantic, just catching up as friends, so I saw no harm in it. When I had to get back to New York, he offered me a ride to the airport. While I didn’t think it was wrong to let Ben assume I was out of the country, even though I didn’t go, I definitely didn’t want to run into him either. He didn’t usually work weekends so I figured the chances of running into him at the airport were slim to none. Of course I had forgotten that even the most impossible scenarios always seem to find me. What happened that day, I’m pretty certain, would only happen to me.......Stay tuned for The Flight Attendant finale

The Flight Attendant (Part 1)

I had an old friend who’d recently moved to New York and started working as a gate agent for an airline. She invited me to New York for a visit, and gave me a free flight pass. On that flight I watched the flight attendants and started daydreaming about what their job would be like. I’d always thought flying for a living would be a fun occupation. Even as a little girl I’d loved flying, watching the tiny world below from 35,000 feet in the sky, feeling the thrill of going somewhere new and exciting.

One of the flight attendants, whose name was Ben, looked very familiar to me. I asked him at one point if we knew each other from somewhere, and he said he didn’t think so. He lived in L.A. so we thought we might have a mutual friend, but in the end couldn’t make a match. We did, however, spend the rest of the long flight chatting. I had a ton of questions about being a flight attendant and he was very helpful with information. The more I discovered about his job, the more I thought this was something I should pursue. I was definitely seeking a change for my life and this seemed right up my alley. I began to sense his agenda was a bit different from mine when he started making flirtatious comments. I didn’t think he was terrible looking, but he definitely wasn’t my type. He was on the shorter, scrawnier side, and even though I was considering becoming a flight attendant, I didn’t actually want to date one. By the end of the flight, I’d decided it would be in my best interest to keep in touch with Ben, in hopes he’d put in a good word for me with his superiors. I gave him my number and told him to give me a call.

Ben did call and, since I wasn’t living in L.A. anymore, we got to know each other via telephone. During this time period his airline called about the resume I’d submitted. They wanted to fly me out to New York for an interview. It appeared they wanted to test the applicants on their ability to function with little sleep and jet lag, since they had me scheduled to fly out on a overnight red eye, then heading straight from the flight to the all day interview. Someone suggested I take 2 Tylenol p.m. at the beginning of the flight. They said it would help me sleep so I’d have energy when I got in. The night of the flight I followed that advice and I’m not sure if it was because I’d taken it on an empty stomach, or if I had some sort of allergic reaction, but I ended up in the lavatory most of the flight vomiting and cursing the friend who suggested the medication. By the time we landed in New York I was exhausted and feeling like death. I was trying desperately to find the energy necessary to plaster on an all-day-long smile and show my flight attendant enthusiasm. I pulled myself together as best I could, drank about 7 cups of coffee and as many saltine crackers as I could stomach (about 2), then headed to the interview. I don’t remember many interview details but I must have done something right because, about a week later, I got the call congratulating me on my new occupation. They wanted me to start training in a month, and they would be placing me in the New York base. Umm…live in New York? That wasn’t part of my master plan…....To be continued

The Brit

During the 3 months I spent living in Arizona, (yes, I only lasted 3 months…do you know how hot it gets there?!) my best friends Gavin and Raven used to come out almost every other weekend to visit. Partly because they missed me, and partly because I now had an apartment which made every day seem like a vacation at a nice resort. The rent in Arizona was ridiculously cheap, so I was able to afford an amazing place that almost had me believing I was extremely wealthy. We’d spend those weekends by the pool during the day, and out dancing and mingling with cocktails in hand by night.

One of those nights we were out dancing at a popular place in Scottsdale, only it wasn’t a club and there wasn’t really a dance floor. After our 3rd martini, we decided it was our responsibility to all tipsy people, ourselves included, to create a dance floor. So we did. Not only did we create a dance floor, but Raven and I must have also thought we were filming a music video since we created an entire dance routine and eventually we had an audience. At the time we thought it was because we were so hot and doing so well with our dancing, looking back I’m pretty certain everyone was just making fun of the drunk girls. Gavin was amongst the spectators, and enjoyed watching us make fools of ourselves while taking many pictures to use later for blackmailing purposes. During our dance routine I noticed a very cute boy standing off to the side watching me and smiling. I smiled at him and pulled him onto the “dance floor” with me. He seemed flattered and he was a good sport about dancing with me. When the song was over he asked if he could buy me a drink so we went over to the bar. It was when we started talking by the bar that I detected his British accent. His name was Sean…from England. That’s how he introduced himself, “I’m Sean, from England!” “Well, hello “Shon from In-glend!” I’d said, trying to use my best British accent while repeating his catch phrase. He seemed to think it was adorable. It was most likely not at all adorable and actually quite obnoxious, but he was seemingly smitten so it apparently didn’t matter what I said. I told him he looked exactly like Hugh Grant. He didn’t look anything like Hugh Grant, but with drunk goggles on, all I could make out clearly was the accent. He also had a very high pitched voice for a man which I overlooked at the time. We chatted for the rest of the evening until finally Gavin and Raven were ready to leave. I told them I didn’t want to leave, that I wanted to stay with “Shon from In-glend!” They did not seem nearly as amused as Sean had by my attempt at a British accent. They pulled me aside and asked if I’d be alright with this guy if they left me, I told them I’d be fine and to take my key. They made sure they got Sean’s phone # and then left.

After the bar closed we decided to walk off the alcohol. We walked and talked for what must have been hours. I can’t be sure of exactly what we discussed, I just know that we did quite a bit of comparing words that we said differently, for example trash can. He called it a litter bin. He talked about us being “pissed”, and I thought he meant angry but he meant drunk. These comparisons were so cute and funny to us then, so on our meaningless conversation went. At one point we ended up at a park where we proceeded to make out on a park bench until I noticed the sun coming up and told him I really needed to get home. He asked if he could take me out that day for lunch because he was leaving that evening to go back to England and just had see me once more. I told him he could come by later after I’d slept for a while.

When I woke up I’d almost forgotten about “Shon from In-glend,” due to the attention I had to put on my massive headache and hangover, until there was a knock at my door. It was Sean, standing there with the biggest and most beautiful bouquet of flowers I’d ever seen. Wow. He handed them to me with a boyish grin on his face. He told me he knew I must get flowers every day but he wanted to bring me some anyway. (Umm…sure…every single day….had he ever met an American man?) I told him I’d woken up late but would meet him in just a little while after I got ready. We spent some sober time together before he left and, while he was still fairly cute, without the alcohol I found we didn’t have a whole lot to talk about. There’s only so many times I can discuss how adorable it is that I say trash and he says rubbish, so I was slightly relieved to say goodbye to Sean. After our goodbye kiss, he said he wouldn’t wash his lips so that my kiss would always stay with him. Was this guy for real?

A couple of days later, I got a call from Sean. When I answered he said, “Parker! It’s ‘Shon from In-glend!’, calling you from England!” and he chuckled. I tried not to gag. We talked for a few minutes, and I couldn’t believe he was paying international fees to make more jokes about litter bins and rubbish. Does this guy have anything else to talk about? He did have more to talk about. He told me he was now unable to walk by a park bench without thinking of me. He sighed and told me he hadn’t been able to eat anything but half a biscuit since he left, he couldn’t sleep either, all he could do was think about me. Can we go back to talking about litter bins please? I told Sean he should really eat something, that it wasn't healthy not to, and that I had to run but thanks so much for calling all the way from England. He sighed and said I’d be in his dreams. Groan. I said my goodbyes and told him we’d talk soon. I didn’t really mean that, but he took it literally and called the next night. This continued for a while until finally he asked if he could come back out and visit me. I had to come up with something quick for this not to happen. I knew I wouldn't be able to stand days on end of “Shon from In-glend” and his lack of conversational skills. The charm of the accent had begun to wear off and, while the flowers were nice, this whole “I can’t eat, sleep or wash my lips” thing was a bit much. I told him the first thing that came to mind. That I had a boyfriend. I’d met someone after he left and it was getting very serious. Since my serious boyfriend lived in America, I felt it important for me to pursue this relationship. He asked what his name was. I named my fake boyfriend Matthew. He got very quiet, then asked me if he had been “Shon from America” instead of “Shon from In-glend”, if things would be different. I sighed internally, then lied and told him yes, things would be much different. I told him I had to go, Matthew would be waiting, but to take care of himself.

A couple of days later I got another call from Sean saying he wanted to talk to me about something very important. I braced myself. He said he’d been thinking a lot, (that was his first mistake), and he wanted to come live in the states for a while, to really give things a go with us. He said he didn’t have anything tying him down in England and he couldn’t bear the thought of always wondering what could have been if he’d only tried harder. After one drunken night in a park? Really?! I told Sean that, while I was flattered, I really couldn’t do that to Matthew. It just wouldn’t be fair or right. I hoped my fake boyfriend appreciated what I was giving up for our relationship. Sean said that he understood, even though it made his heart feel sad and lonesome, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to eat for a bit. I wished he would stop saying things of that nature.

Sean stopped calling for the most part after that, wanting to be respectful of my “relationship”, however he did call me on my birthday, which I thought was so sweet of him to even remember. And to this day “Shon from In-glend” still sends an email to me on every single birthday. He may not have been the guy for me, but I have to hand it to him for always being a true gentleman. If only he’d been a little less of a girl, his voice had been lower, he actually had looked like Hugh Grant, and he learned how to have a real conversation, we could have really had something there.

The Snoop

I was invited to my at-the-time agent’s Christmas party, and wasn’t going to attend since I usually hate those industry parties full of all-about-me actors. The day of the party my friend Raven heard about it and insisted I go and take her as my date. With a sigh I agreed. After being at the party for about 10 minutes I was bored and ready to leave. I had left Raven to say my obligatory hello to my agent, and when I scanned the crowd to find her, I saw she was being hit on by a cute blonde boy. I went over and after she introduced us I told her I was ready to go when she was. To blonde guy’s left I saw his friend standing there staring at me with a big smile on his face. He introduced himself and shook my hand.
His name was Alex. He was an actor who was also represented by my agent. He was very cute, but I was in no mood to chat and was very ready to exchange this party for my couch and a movie. He wasn’t giving up so easily though. He asked me all about myself, and I had no choice, since Raven seemed perfectly content chatting away with his friend and oblivious to my rescue stares, but to carry on a conversation with him. He asked if I’d like a drink and I figured it might help my mood so I said I’d love one. We sipped our vodka tonics and after a while I started really warming up to Alex. At one point he got pulled away for an introduction to some producer, and after he was gone for at least 10 minutes, I decided it was time to leave this party. Raven and I were heading out the door when he grabbed my arm and said, “Wait! Where are you going?” I opened my mouth to say home, but Raven blurted out that we were going to a nearby bar for a change of scenery and that he should join us there later. I gave her a dirty look and he smiled at her then asked for my number. I gave it to him and he said he’d love to meet up later on.
We left and Raven started talking about how cute he was, while I pointed out that he was still an actor, which I don’t usually date since they have a tendency to be egotistical narcissists. We went to the bar and I tried to hide the fact that I was secretly hoping he’d show up. When closing time rolled around with no Alex, I told Raven I was heading home. On my way home, as I tried telling myself I wasn’t disappointed he hadn't shown up, Alex called. I answered with a big smile on my face and we talked for about an hour. He told me he was so sorry he couldn’t join us, but our agent had him running around a bit for her, and he couldn’t get out of there as quickly as he’d hoped. At the end of our conversation he asked if he could take me to dinner and I said of course.
The next evening he picked me up and took me to an amazing steakhouse where we drank martinis, had a delicious dinner, and some of the best conversation I’d ever had. By the time he dropped me off and we'd had our first kiss, we were both obviously smitten.
For our next date he wanted to make me dinner, and when I showed up at his place he answered the door with a huge bouquet of flowers and made a fantastic meal. He was scoring big points. As I was looking around his apartment later on, I saw a picture of him dressed in a tux which appeared to be taken at a wedding. I asked whose wedding it was and he said it was his. Umm...Red flag. Your wedding?! After I gave him what must have been a horrendous look, he quickly explained that he was divorced, and proceeded to tell me about her having an affair, and the other reasons the relationship hadn’t worked. I was disappointed he'd been previously married but relieved that he wasn't still. By the end of the evening we had both decided we wanted to take it slow as far as sleeping together since we wanted it to be special and really get to know each other first.
We spent the next month becoming the best of friends (the kind of friends that make out a lot). We were inseparable and having the time of our lives. By the time we finally did have sex, it was the best of my life. We were falling in love but I was definitely not going to be the one to say it first. That is until the night someone drugged my drink.
We were out with our friends and at one point I left my drink unattended. The next thing I knew I woke up in the morning next to Alex. I had a massive headache and remembered nothing, but had only had 2 beers. Apparently I went from fine to falling over within the hour. At the time Alex was confused and took me home, carried me up the stairs, and at the door I looked at him and said “Alex, I love you sooo much”, right before I passed out completely. When he told me the story I had a look of horror on my face and told him I hadn’t planned on saying that. At least not before he had and preferably not under the influence of drugs. He told me he’d said it back which helped a little. After some detective work we realized someone must have slipped something in my drink due to all of my odd symptoms.
Our relationship continued to grow stronger and I thought, Finally! This is the normal, healthy, loving relationship I’ve been waiting for! And then Alex’s demons started to reveal themselves.
The first occurrence happened one day when I had to go to work early and Alex had spent the night. I didn’t want him to have to wake up early, so I told him to sleep in and lock the door on his way out. Later that evening when he came over, he seemed really upset. I asked what was bothering him and he told me that he’d seen a Valentine’s Day present on my dresser, (an early present from my Mom, she gives me one every year and makes me wait until the holiday to open it) he told me he’d seen the card which had “From your biggest fan!” written on it, (my Mom is my biggest fan), that he’d opened the bag and seen a picture of me and “some guy” in it, (my brother Kyle and I which my Mom had framed), and after he told me all this he waited for my response, clearly thinking his snooping would be overlooked since he’d caught me red handed. I looked at him and told him he was about to feel like the biggest jack ass on the planet, and proceeded to tell him the truth about what he’d found. He looked down sheepishly and began to apologize profusely. He said he apparently still had some trust issues. Gee, you think? I expressed how disappointed I was. I told him I didn’t do well with the jealousy, invasion of privacy thing, and that if our relationship was going to work it couldn’t happen again. He said it wouldn’t, apologized again, and I dropped it. But then it did happen again.
We had just gotten back from a weekend getaway and I hadn’t unpacked my bag yet. The following weekend I stayed at Raven’s house for a couple of days, and the day after I got back from her house, Alex spent the night. I left him in my apartment while I went to work and that night he came over upset. He told me he’d looked through my overnight bag and wondered why, if I’d only been at Raven’s, I had packed sexy lingerie. I told him he was an idiot, that was the bag from our trip I hadn’t unpacked yet, and that I was through with his shady snooping. He again apologized and we dropped it but as more things of this nature continued, it began damaging our relationship. We began fighting quite a bit.
Then came the fateful day when our relationship really fell apart, and also the day I realized tequila and I could never be friends. I was in a play and had developed what I thought was a harmless crush on the director. It was closing night and Alex came to the show with a buddy of his. I asked him to stay after the show for the cast party. It was being held at the theater since it had a bar built in. He said he was going to a party instead with his buddy. I was pissed. This was a last straw kind of moment for me, and what I should have done was to tell Alex we needed a break. Since I apparently wanted to make things more complicated for myself, this is what happened instead. Alex left after the show and the cast and crew started drinking shots of tequila. Most of the cast started to leave until there were only 4 of us left, including myself and the director. Alex called and I told him I’d be leaving shortly and that I’d come over when I was done. The next thing I know the shots of tequila took over and I woke up lying on the couch next to the passed out director. I heard pounding on the theater door. Uh oh. More knocking as I tried to clear my head and remember what had happened and how I’d ended up on this couch. I began to get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I had flashbacks of the only scattered moments I could recall from the evening. Shit, I made out with my director. I knew it was Alex pounding on the door and I panicked as I tried to think of what to tell him. The truth seemed way too frightening, but the only lie I could think of was: Alex, I am actually at home in bed right now. This isn’t really happening, you’re just having a nightmare. I didn’t think he’d buy it. I woke up my director and told him he had to hide, my boyfriend was at the door and it would be in his best interest to not be present when I opened it. I opened the door to a furious and worried looking Alex. He asked what the hell had happened, why I hadn’t come home. I told him I passed out, I’d had too much to drink, I apologized. He looked around and asked if someone was there, if something had happened. I told him nothing had happened, I just fell asleep on the couch, and asked him to just please take me home. He didn’t look convinced but finally agreed and we left. The next day I realized that, due to the fact I’d made out with my director then lied about it, I should break up with Alex, at least for now until I could clear my head. I told him I thought we should take a break for a while. He didn’t want the break but reluctantly agreed.
During this break I missed Alex, but felt that we would get back together when we both gained some perspective and could start fresh. What I didn’t realize was that one of the 4 people who had been at the cast party was friends with Alex’s roommate, and she had seen me making out with the director. Small world. I was caught in a lie but didn’t yet know it. I knew something wasn’t right when Alex wouldn't return any of my calls. I finally went to his house and when he saw it was me at the door he wouldn’t even speak to me. He closed the door in my face. I pushed it open and refused to leave until he told me what was going on. It wasn’t fun to hear that he knew I’d lied and cheated.
I called a couple of days later and apologized profusely, and asked if we could try again. He actually agreed to give it another try, however he never let go of what had happened. I finally told him that he either had to let the past go, or let me go, because otherwise this wasn’t going to work. What he did, instead of letting it go, was cheat on me. He had sex with a girl he worked with. The last thing I’d ever expected from Alex was cheating. When he told me what had happened I felt devastated. At this point the obvious and best choice would’ve been to put an end to this clearly damaged relationship full of mistakes, but instead I decided to give him another chance. I figured, in my screwed up logic, that now we were even. That maybe since we had both messed up we could start fresh and move forward. Of course I was wrong.
Our relationship continued to get even worse. Now neither of us had a solid foundation of trust, and Alex continued to blame me not only for my mistake but for his mistake as well. Anytime a fight would come up, he’d throw what I did in my face. When I’d point out that he’d also cheated and on an even bigger scale, his defense would be that he would never have cheated if I hadn’t done it to him first. I couldn’t win. So I decided for the both of us that we needed to break up. We remained “friends” and did that thing couples sometimes do, where they still see each other from time to time after breaking up, pretending it’s a normal, healthy thing to do. Then I started seeing someone else I’d recently met and started distancing myself from Alex, and Alex became a bit of a psycho stalker.
Gavin was over one day and we thought we heard something outside on the lawn. We peeked out through the curtains and saw Alex standing behind a tree in my front yard trying to look in through my window. When he saw the curtains move he ran away. I found out that he had a neighbor who worked as a private investigator and Alex actually hired him to follow me. When I stayed overnight at the new guy’s house I came out to find a note on my car that said: I hope this guy is worth it since he’s destroying our relationship. He obviously forgot that we had broken up. He had somehow gotten new guy’s phone # and left him a voice mail, warning him about all of the things that were wrong with me and told him to be careful if he was planning on dating me. How thoughtful of him to be so concerned about new guy. I decided it was time to cut all ties with Alex. We had really destroyed something that seemed so amazing initially. It seemed like such a shame, but I guess that’s life for you. Live and learn, and that’s what I decided to do. I moved on, literally. I up and moved to Arizona where my sister lived. I decided I needed a change of scenery and to flee the scene of the crime seemed like the best way to get it. As angry as I was with all of his actions, I still cared about Alex. I hoped in time that we could be friends again one day but that was wishful thinking. I realized the past belongs in the past and in order for a new door to open, you have to close the one behind you first. So that’s what I did. I closed the door on a great love and looked forward to seeing what I had in store for me behind the doors of the future.

The Sober Bartender

There was a local bar where my friends and I had become regulars. Part of the reason we loved it was because of Bill the bartender. Bill had a huge crush on me which he was not shy about expressing. We never paid for a single drink while he was working which was the main reason we went there so often. He flirted with me relentlessly and would always ask me to go on a date with him. I always playfully refused. I told him I didn’t date bartenders, which was partially true, but there were a couple of other reasons I didn’t want to go out with him. Reason 1: If it didn’t work out with Bill, I didn’t want to ruin our favorite hang out spot. Reason 2: Bill was kind of old. Not grandfather old, but old enough that people might possibly mistake him for my father. I was trying to date men closer to my own age these days, and while Bill wasn’t terrible looking, I wasn’t all that attracted to him. He did have a great sense of humor and always knew how to make me laugh, which I found to be his most attractive quality. He wouldn't give up on trying to coax me into a date. He would do things like tell the other bar patrons that I was his future wife. He would write me little notes on bar napkins which said things like, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I hope our children look just like you.
Eventually one day he wore me down and I agreed to go on a date with him. We decided to go bowling. Here’s the thing about bowling. I’m very competitive and don’t like to lose, which is a problem when I bowl since I am by far the worst bowler of all time. Usually the only way I enjoy it is after I drink several beers. When Bill and I went to order drinks at the bowling alley bar, I ordered the largest beer they had which came in a very tall plastic cup shaped like a bowling pin. Bill ordered a Sprite. When I looked at him funny, he told me he doesn’t drink, that he’s in AA. Really? A bartender….that doesn’t drink. This should be fun. I didn’t really know what to say to that so I just quietly sipped beer from by bowling pin cup. We started to play and, once we got into it, I had a really fun time. He made me laugh a lot which eased some of my tension. At the end of the night, he walked me to my door and kissed me goodnight. I can’t say I saw fireworks, but it wasn’t terrible.
We went out again shortly after that, this time to dinner and a movie. While I liked Bill, I just wasn’t that attracted to him, so I started to blow him off a bit after that date. I just became extremely busy. Busy enough that I didn’t have time for dates, but not too busy that my friends and I couldn’t stop by his bar for free drinks here and there.
I figured Bill understood that he and I dating just wasn’t in the cards, and thought it was great that I could still come into his bar for flirting and free drinks. It seemed like the perfect situation to me. That is until Bill became a little creepy.
It started when I wasn’t coming into the bar as often, and didn’t call him back right away after he’d left me a couple of messages. The messages went something like this:

Message 1: “Hey Parker, it’s Bill. I know you’re super busy but if you get a chance to call me back, the kids would like to hear from you.” (He liked to joke about the non-existent family we had as well as me being his future wife. I thought this was cute and funny.)

Message 2: “Parker, it’s Bill. Call me back when you get a chance. I’m thinking we need a bowling rematch. I can’t have it getting out around town that I was beaten by a girl drinking beer out of a bowling pin, it would ruin my reputation. Call me.” (Ha ha, funny Bill, I thought. I should call him back soon.)

Message 3: “You know, Parker…we’re all busy, and I know you have a very busy life, but maybe there is more than meets the eye to the fact that you haven’t called me back. I don’t know, call me when you get a chance. “ (Hmm..that message was a bit odd.)

Message 4: "Hello Parker. (There was a sigh, followed by a long pause.) You know, let’s just be honest with each other here. The New Year is coming up, let’s start it off the right way and just get everything out in the open. I can't pretend I know why it is you won’t call me back. Maybe you are just so unbelievably busy, maybe you know that secretly I do want more than a friendship with you, maybe it creeps you out, maybe you think I’m way too old, I don’t know. (Um, how about all of those things plus now you’ve entered psycho stalker territory.) I just want to clear the air here and find out the reasons behind all of this. Call me back. (Hmm, real tempting to call you back now.)

Message 5: “I mean, I don’t get why we can’t just clear things up. If you get a minute, give me a ring. This is Bill again.” (Really, I hadn’t guessed.)

Message 6: “Heeey Parker….so I still haven’t heard from you. I’m sure you have your reasons. I’m sure that someday you’ll come back into my bar for a drink and we’ll chat, but it’s pretty frustrating not being able to talk. Well you take care of yourself over there. I can’t say I understand. I mean, I don’t know why you can’t just be honest. I guess I’ll see ya. (Wow)

At first I wasn’t going to respond, but the more I thought about the little comments he made in his messages, the more angry it made me. I mean, we only went out twice, and I thought it was pretty clear to anyone paying attention that I just wanted to be friendly acquaintances. The message I ended up leaving for Bill went like this:

Message to Bill: "Heeeey Bill. It’s Parker. So, yeah…I got your messages. About that “being honest” comment. I don’t really know what the f*#@ you were talking about, but here is some honesty for you. I don’t appreciate your insinuation that I have lied about anything. By not saying certain things I was probably trying to spare your feelings. But since you’ve pushed me to this point, here you go. The reason I didn’t call you back at first was because I was actually busy, and in the free time I did have, my priority was to first call back people who were more important to me than you. If you’d like to “get it all out in the open" then I mostly come into the bar for the free drinks. Also, yes it does creep me out that you secretly want to be more than friends, and yes, I do think you are old. If this doesn’t “clear things up” for you, let me know. Take care.”
I never heard back from Bill after that message and, I have to admit, I’m a bit sad that I can never show my face in his bar again. It just goes to show, there is something to that old saying "Don’t sh*t where you eat." In this case, don’t go against your instincts and agree to a date with your favorite bartender. I have yet to find anyone who makes a better martini.

The Two Minute Man

During the days when I was dabbling in acting, I was cast in a very low budget theater production in a starring role which allowed me to have solos in singing, tap dancing, and swing dancing. I was very proud at the time, so of course I forced all of my friends to come and painfully sit through it. I’m pretty sure most of my friends snuck out early which, looking back now, I can’t really blame them. I believe my friend Raven even gave the back handed compliment of “Parker, you were by far the best thing about that show. I think the show itself was more painful then having my wisdom teeth removed, and if you hadn’t been there it might have been the first time I’d ever thrown things at a stage.” I managed to muster up a "Gee, thanks".

There was a boy in the show that I didn’t talk to much but developed a huge crush on. His name was Charlie. His character was charming and adorable and my favorite part of rehearsals became watching his scenes from backstage. After our final performance we had our cast party at a local bar and after a few martinis I found myself feeling very bold and chatting with my crush. By the end of the evening the rest of the cast had left the bar aside from me and Charlie. After making out for a while and realizing we were getting dirty looks from the bartender, we decided to leave the bar. He asked me if I’d want to have dinner the following evening. I agreed to meet at his place around 7 and with one last kiss we went our separate ways.

The next night I was at Charlie’s house around 7:20, only 20 minutes past the scheduled time which was pretty damn early for me since I was prone to tardiness. He’d called me earlier to ask if I’d mind him making dinner instead of us going out. I thought this was a sweet gesture, pretty romantic actually. That is until he opened the door shirtless, gave me a kiss, and asked if I’d mind stirring the macaroni and cheese on the stove while he ran back to change. I said I didn’t mind and proceeded to stir the mac and cheese. Not homemade but the kind you get in a box that costs about a dollar. As I stirred I tried not to be judgmental about the fact that, while he had a hot body, I didn’t see why he hadn’t had the time to put a shirt on before answering the door, or the fact that there didn’t appear to be anything else cooking on the stove other than the “gourmet pasta” I was stirring. He was, after all, a poor struggling actor. But just then I saw something I couldn’t help but judge. I looked over at the computer monitor sitting on his desk and saw his screensaver. It was his headshot bouncing around on the screen. Apparently he wanted to be able see his face from any area of the apartment in case he didn’t have time to make it to a mirror. I mean, wow. Talk about full of yourself. He finally came back to the kitchen and asked if I liked fish. I said I sure did and brightened up a bit at the thought of some salmon or halibut he was possibly going to make and then he opened the can of tuna. Sigh. We had a meal consisting of tuna mixed with mac and cheese and cheap wine. Thank God for the wine because the dinner was quite painful aside from just the food. Turns out I was way more attracted to Charlie’s character in the show than I was to the actual Charlie. At least that made him a good actor, so he had that going for him.

After plenty of wine, and when I’d had about as much of his self centered actor talk as I could stomach, I figured what better way to shut him up then to make out with him. After a while we ended up in his bedroom (which also happened to be the living room in his studio apartment), and after it seemed clear where we were heading with this he put on a condom. Literally 2 minutes later we were finished. The worst part is he looked so proud of himself and I couldn’t help shaking my head. We fell asleep shortly thereafter and in the morning he wanted a repeat of the night before. I was a little hesitant but figured maybe since the first time was out of the way he’d be able to step it up a notch with the longevity. About 1 ½ minutes in he stopped and looked at me with wide eyes. I asked him what was wrong and he said um, I think the condom fell off. Fucking really?! What do you mean it fell off, I asked. How does a condom just fall off? He got very flustered and I could tell he felt badly but I couldn’t help the irritation that was growing. After about a half hour in the bathroom trying to find the escaped condom, I gave up. I came out and told him I had to go. He asked if there was anything he could do. I snapped back at him that unless he could rewind to the time before I ever came over last night then no, there was nothing he could do. I was even more irritated because I was leaving the next day for a week long vacation to Mexico, and there was no way I was leaving the country in this state. I told him I had to run and make it to my doctor’s office before he was gone for the day and I left.

At my doctor’s office I had to embarrassingly tell the receptionist what I was in for, and repeat it when she asked me to speak up since she couldn’t hear me. I’m certain at least 3 people in the waiting room heard me and snickered. As I lay in my robe on the examining table wondering how in the hell I got here, thinking it couldn’t get any worse, my doctor came in and told me medical students were there that day following him and asked if I'd mind them joining him for the examination. Really?! Today?! Right now for THIS appointment? Why couldn't there be students shadowing him when I'd come in to have my throat checked out last month?! At this point I was certain I was dreaming, that this was the kind of thing that only happened in movies, but I assure you...this happened. I didn’t want to be disagreeable so I mumbled something about it being fine. So there I was with not 2 but 3 men witnessing one of the most embarrassing moments I’d ever have.

After I left the office I went home to pack and Charlie called me. He asked how everything went and I told him things went swimmingly, thanks for asking. He seemed hurt by my sarcasm but for some reason I couldn’t force myself not to blame him. I didn’t want to tell him that the sex was sooooo not worth all this hassle. He told me to call him when I got back from Mexico, I told him to take care. That was the last time I saw Charlie. He tried calling a few times but I decided it best to ignore him. I figured it’d just make it worse if I told him I couldn’t see him anymore since, because of him, I’d had the worst 2 minutes of my life…twice. Some things are just better left unsaid.

The Confused Guy

At yet another of the many restaurants I used to work in, I’d become close friends with 3 of my co-workers. There was Janet who was a fellow server and my partner in crime. Jake was the openly gay bartender/model who made me laugh like no other. He was so ridiculously good looking you wouldn’t have blamed him if he was a snob, yet he was surprisingly down to earth. Then there was Brian. Brian was the general manager that I began secretly dating. Everyone knew Brian and I were friends, but we figured it’d be best to keep the fact that we saw each other naked most nights after work a secret. Jake and I also became closer and closer the more time we spent together. He was so easy to talk to that sometimes hours would go by of just chatting about life. There weren’t many moments when we weren’t laughing together since we had the same sense of humor. We loved to drink wine and people watch and point out the hottest guys that would go by. Sometimes as a side job, Jake performed as a drag queen. On Halloween since we both had to work, he came dressed in one of his drag outfits. It was a patent leather thong leotard with fishnet stockings, black stilettos, a long brown wig. He wore make-up that made him look like the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Not only was he the most attractive man I’d ever met, but he also made a more attractive female then most of the women I knew. I told him it wasn’t fair, only one gender should have to feel envious of him. He laughed and told me I definitely didn’t need to feel any envy since I was the most beautiful girl he knew. I told him flattery would get him everywhere. He always seemed to be my biggest fan and was so complimentary.

A few weeks later the secret relationship Brian and I had was exposed. We’d been out together one night and a co-worker had seen us kissing. Of course that meant within 2 days the entire restaurant staff had heard about our relationship. Including Jake and Janet. Janet told me she had suspected something might have been going on and was happy for us since she adored us both. Jake didn’t react in quite the same manner. I assumed he was upset that I’d kept a secret from him so I apologized for not telling him sooner. He shrugged, mumbled something about being really busy behind the bar and avoided making eye contact with me. I felt badly that he seemed upset I’d been keeping a secret, but figured he’d get over it by the end of the evening. At closing time, Jake asked if he could speak to me privately in the back room. I followed him there and he closed the door. He looked at me with sadness in his eyes and began to tell me how when he’d heard about Brian and I, he had been a little heartbroken because he really liked me. I told him I liked him too, that I was sorry for not telling him but that this didn’t change our friendship. He said “Parker, you’re not getting it. It hurts because I like you so much. I wanted to be the one to date you.” Ummmm…..??? I started to smile thinking he must be playing a joke on me, that is until he leaned in and kissed me. I couldn’t speak because of the state of shock I was now in. I just stared at him for a moment until I found my voice then said, “But Jake…you’re gay. Remember?” He said that he goes both ways, he likes boys and girls. I reminded him that we’d spent many hours pointing out the hottest guys that would walk by us. He reminded me he’d also pointed out hot girls. I told him I’d figured he was looking at their clothing as inspiration for his drag show attire, not because he wanted to get in their pants. Then he got frustrated and said it was all a moot point anyway since I was now dating Brian. He said he hoped we were happy and then he left the back room leaving me to be stunned in silence.

After that Jake and I didn’t really hang out anymore. He was friendly enough at work, but the relationship was never the same. Sometimes I wonder what I would have done if Jake had told me how he’d felt and I hadn’t been with Brian, and what it would’ve been like to date a mostly gay man. On one hand it’d be nice to date someone in touch with his feminine side, on the other hand I don’t think I could be with a man who’d be borrowing my high heels, and who’s ass looked far better in a thong than mine ever could.

The Almost Husband Part 2

.....I got caught up in that beautiful moment and found myself saying, Yes! Yes, of course I’ll marry you! The wait staff was snapping our picture and everyone was smiling. Here we were on this beautiful island, I had the most gorgeous ring on my finger and this man who loved me. It was a happy evening. We called our families to share the news of our engagement. Then we got back home and reality sunk in. I loved Drew but I wasn’t sure I was in love with him. I began to panic. This panic led to an escape to Paris for a month long study abroad program with my best girlfriend Raven. She was getting married in 3 months and wanted a last hurrah while I needed time away to sort out my thoughts and feelings. Drew was completely supportive of this trip which only made it harder to realize the possibility of this not working out.

During my time away the main thing that brought me to the harsh realization that my love for Drew was more of a non romantic love was the fact that I didn’t miss him, not really. Not the way a girl should miss her fiancé being apart for a month. Also the fact that I had to stop myself numerous times from cheating with several cute boys who were closer to my age and very persistent. At the end of the month Drew was meeting me at a hotel he’d booked in Paris, and we were going on a Mediterranean cruise to celebrate his birthday. On the day he arrived and knocked on the hotel room door, I was sitting in a robe drinking champagne out of the bottle and crying. I acted like I’d been watching a sad movie so he wouldn’t know I’d been crying about our doomed relationship. What should have been an amazing cruise turned into a time of many arguments. I started picking fights and I felt badly for it yet couldn’t seem to stop myself.

When we got back home, a funny thing happened. As I was trying to figure out how I was going to break up with Drew, he turned the tables and broke up with me instead. For some reason I felt devastated. Here is what I thought I’d wanted yet when he said the words out loud it didn’t seem right. I tearfully tried to give back the ring, and he insisted I keep it and sell it. For some reason him breaking up with me sent me into panic mode and instead of accepting this as the right thing, I fought it and after many talks convinced him to give it one more shot. I decided I would become everything he seemed to want in a future wife. I would become the domestic housewife type if it killed me. I even tried to host a dinner for his best friends, and I made the only thing I knew how to cook. A chicken and cheese casserole which consisted mostly of canned soup and precooked chicken. Looking back that was pretty embarrassing. During this process I became insecure since I was trying to be something I wasn’t, and he became irritated and realized the things he loved about me he wouldn’t want to change after all, it’s just that we couldn’t seem to work together. The moment I snapped out of my Stepford wife phase was one afternoon when we were arguing right before we stepped into Drew’s brother’s birthday party. He snapped at me and yelled “you’re just so goddamned insecure!” Right then his brother opened the door and I had no choice but to blink back the tears that were forming and ignore the anger that was beginning to burn in the pit of my stomach. I said my hellos and faked good spirits, all the while hearing his comment ring in my ears. No man had ever called me insecure. I had never been that insecure girl who changed herself for a man. I was so angry that he would say that to me, and even more angry that he was sort of right. I had become someone I was not a fan of, however he was way out of line in his delivery.

As soon as we left the party I turned to him and told him that he was way out of line and I would never again be spoken to in that way. He looked surprised by my reaction and apologized. Then I told him that he was right when he’d tried to break things off, that this obviously wasn’t working. I told him I should never have tried to change myself. That night we broke up for good as amicably as any two people could have. I sadly sold my beautiful ring and used the money to move into a new apartment, and that’s where I began the next part of my journey in this crazy thing called life.

The Almost Husband

For a few months I worked as a cocktail waitress for a blues club which I’m not sure could be classified as “work.” We had quite a bit of lenience since our manager was more like a friend than a boss, and many nights instead of cleaning up at the end of the night we’d end up on the dance floor with a cocktail in hand. One night a private party for a law firm came in, and I half joked that I was going to bag myself a rich lawyer. I did end up chatting and flirting with one of the lawyers, who I found out later just happened to own and run that law firm. He definitely wasn’t the best looking man I’d ever seen. He appeared to have permanent dark circles under his eyes, a slightly crooked nose, and looked a bit like a cross between Billy Joel and one of the trolls from Lord of the Rings. On top of that he looked at least 15 years older than me, but there was a confidence about him I found very sexy. He told me his name was Drew and asked if he could take me out sometime. I figured what the hell and gave him my number.

He called me 2 days later and asked if I would join him to watch a UCLA basketball game and go to lunch. I agreed and we had our first date. He picked me up in his Porsche, and took me to a fancy restaurant where we got to know each other a little better. Drew told me about his past, how he'd joined the army to get his degree and lived off of student loans and top ramen while he went to law school. Instead of joining an already established law firm he took a risk and started his own personal injury practice which ended up being a huge success. I told him a bit about myself, and how one of my passions was to travel the world but at the time I hadn’t been able to travel much yet. He looked me in the eyes, smiled and asked if I would mind if he changed that. I smiled and thought to myself, nope, don’t mind at all!

He was a man of his word and by the time we’d been dating for a couple of months we’d already been on a cruise around Mexico as well as two island vacations. When I’d told him I was only 22 on our first date he thought I was joking and even chuckled until he realized from my silent stare that I was serious. He made a joke about how his friends, after meeting me, would now definitely know he was having a midlife crises. I thought he shouldn't worry about that, since I was pretty sure they’d already guessed by the tiny black Porsche he had parked outside. He had seemed concerned about the age difference at first, but then hadn’t mentioned it again until things started getting more serious. We started having argumentative conversations about marriage and kids. We had slightly different views on the topic. He had a plan of wanting to be married with children within the next couple of years. When I thought about being married with children that soon I had to stop myself from throwing up a little in my mouth. His plan sounded an awful lot like a prison sentence to me and I wasn’t sure why it would appeal to anyone. I just wasn’t ready to think about those things yet and eventually he told me he was going to have to date other people in order to find someone who was ready. I told him to go ahead if that’s what he wanted to do, and I didn’t think it would really bother me. I was having fun with him but didn’t think he was the one for me. That is until one night when I asked what he was up to, figuring he’d be around to hang out with me as usual, and he told me he had a date. I felt my heart sink, and I realized just how much it bothered me and how much I actually cared for this man.

A few days later I sat him down and pleaded my case to him about how I thought we should really give this a go, that I didn’t want him to see other people, and that it was illogical to try to find someone to plug into your pre-existing relationship plan. I told him it makes more sense to find someone you love and build a life plan together as you go along, to see if a relationship works first and then fill in the blanks. I felt pretty proud of my argument, especially when he agreed with all that I’d said and wanted to give it a another shot. From that point on we became pretty inseparable, and then one day Drew told me he was in love with me. I hadn’t realized I loved him too until I heard myself saying those 3 words back. I came to learn both the best and worst qualities about Drew. The best being his drive, generosity, and humor, as well as being down to earth despite his success. The worst being his need to control, his temper, and his attachment to smoking pot every night. Our age difference proved to be a bit of an issue at times as well. We didn’t always see eye to eye or want to do the same types of things, and I wasn't fond of the moments when people assumed Drew was my father.

My most vivid memory of this was the day he bought me a car. Right before the dealer closed the sale, Drew stepped away to take a work call and the dealer asked me if i lived in the area or was just visiting 'my dad' from college. I turned us away from Drew and whispered that if he wanted to sell this car it'd be best to keep any further comments of that nature to himself. I’d never dated someone so successful and wealthy before Drew, and I won’t say that him having an amazing 3 story mansion on the beach wasn’t incredible. And I’d be lying if I said that money never being an issue wasn’t a great perk, since it allowed for things like last minute tickets to the super bowl or jumping on a plane to Vegas for a VIP weekend. I never used him for his money like some women had in his past, and I think he respected that about me.

Several months later after much persistence from Drew I moved out of my tiny Hollywood apartment and into his beach house. When we were nearing our year anniversary a couple of things were happening. 1) I was beginning to wonder if I loved Drew more as a friend than romantically or sexually. 2) He was constantly bringing up the topic of getting engaged. I kept telling him I wasn’t ready for that, I thought it was still too soon. We were arguing more than we had in the past, and I started feeling the age gap more than ever. Our lives were just so different. I still liked to go out drinking with friends and was figuring out what I wanted to be when I grew up while he was already settled in his career and enjoyed smoking pot , eating twinkies, then falling asleep in front of the T.V. every night. Whenever he’d bring up getting engaged and I’d object to the idea, he would just brush off my protests and tell me I was only nervous because I worry too much. The more hesitant I became, the more pushy he got until one vacation day in Key West, we were off on a tiny island having an amazing 5 star dinner, and it was time for dessert. I remember the moment this way. The waiter brought out some sort of chocolate dessert and I remember thinking, I didn’t order this, that’s odd. The waiter then opened the chocolate dessert, which turns out was a heart shaped box made of chocolate, and I remember thinking, Is that rice? Why would they put white rice inside of chocolate? Turns out it wasn’t rice, it was rock salt and while examining the dessert I somehow didn’t notice the enormous diamond ring sitting in the middle of it. I looked around and wondered why everyone appeared to be staring at me, then noticed Drew to my left down on one knee. Oh my God. My heart started pounding as realization started to creep in, and the next thing I know Drew is saying something like: Parker, will you make me the happiest man on earth and be my wife? It felt difficult to breathe and I couldn’t seem to think clearly. This was such a beautiful moment and I had no idea what the next word out of my mouth was going to be……
To be continued……..