The End of a Dream

I put the card on his car.  It was addressed to him.  I didn't leave my name in hopes that he would be smart enough to know the person who was sending this level of secret admirer type message to him.  Then, I saw him.  Sexy Sales Guy and I pulled into the parking lot of our place of work at the same time.  I have never wanted to avoid him more than that day.  It was a couple of days passed the day I gave him the card.  I was anticipating what was next, my heart was beating to the beat of a horrible rap song mixed with the ridiculous melody of DJ Tiesto and unbearable noise.  My stomach, knottier than the pubic hairs of a crack whore hooker.  The sweat started to slowly seep from my pores, and suddenly, I felt as if I had to go poop but didn't really need to.  I felt slightly nauseous and I suddenly realize that he isn't too far behind me and I must keep the door open for him.




***REWIND A COUPLE DAYS***

Just a day after I put the Happy New Years I Secretly Love You and Want to Bear Your Children card on Sexy Sales Guy's car, Ol' Blue Eyes decided to grow some.  After a couple of days passing messages back and forth via JackassBook, he asked me out.  Yes, and I replied with the fact that I'm an Arab and he's Republican and White and that I would probably punt him.  In fact, let me tell you what I put in my little Leave Me Alone message:

"Not that you're a bad guy, but I can see myself punting you if we dated, just being honest. I am an Arab and have strong political beliefs that side with what I call Palestine. You, as an American and through conversation, seem to have strong beliefs in what you would call Israel. Am I wrong? If so, please correct me. Yes, this is a major factor for me to decide my answer. "


I couldn't believe his response.  He was surprisingly (reminder:  he's Republican and very American...every Nutso's nightmare) fair!  He believes in the two state deal (not saying I do or don't...I'm extremely nationalistic with Palestine) and has some fair views on the topic.  I was shocked.  He then proceeded to give me his point in dating saying that it would be boring to date someone that is very similar to one another.  Another logical reason to never say no to someone very different.  He called me gorgeous.  Yes! Who does that?!?!?!? So then I told him the real reason I said no.  I told him about my "perusing" another person and how I don't believe in dating two guys at once and that my tactic of scaring him away didn't work.  In fact, here you go for shits and giggles:

"Ok, well i have to be honest with you. The reason i gave you the I'm Muslim schpeel was because I was trying to scare you off in a way. (in which I didn't, so kudos to you).

Here's why. I have taken on an interest in someone and have been for a while. I decided to grow some and find a way to let this guy know that. Although, it wasn't something that was directly said to him. If I were to go on a date with you, it really wouldn't be fair because someone else is on my head.

I just didn't want to say that to you because, well, i thought it was rude. I'm sorry if I came of crazy, it's because I sort of am."

*Footnote for later...keep this message in mind for future blog reference.*

***FAST FORWARD BACK TO SSG AND MY STOMACH IN KNOTS***

He was walking down the stairs to the entrance of the hell (aka work) and told me that I didn't have to hold the door open for him. I think it would quite rude if I just walked away, yes he wasn't very close, but not far either. I love him. I mean... 

I felt as if poop was coming out of my face at this point.  I told him that it's OK and it kills more time for me to hold the door open (horrible humor) so that I don't have to get back to work.  Then small talk.  "I'm going on vacation" says SSG and he tells me about the trip that he is oh so excited about.  For some reason, I also asked if he was from here (Chicago) and he tells me no.  He's from good 'ol Michigan (hence why he roots for them) and some more small talk.  Then the elevator hits his floor.  It illuminated the what was dim elevator and he stepped out.  He was gone.  Kinda like Houdini, the fucker left the elevator and said nothing! NOTHING! Nothing about he card!!!

I was slightly relieved and disappointed.  I thought to myself the following:

• No ring, so he is probably in a serious relationship 
• Oh my God! Maybe he's excited about his trip because he's going to propose to a longtime girlfriend
• He's really 40 and looks VERY YOUNG for his age (not likely...but any excuse will do) 
• He doesn't know it was me that left the card (C'mon...how couldn't he?  We had many conversations about my college of choice and his college of choice! In fact, he wears a shirt that says MICHIGAN on it when works out!) 
• He doesn't like me
• He is gay

Another week passes by and I haven't seen sight of Sexy Sales Guy.  When I dropped the card off, I thought they were moving in the beginning of February and it turns out it was going to be end of February. VERY uncomfortable to try to avoid the man I was mentally having sex with every day at least twice (note: we made beautiful children...mentally).  I then go off to lunch with Baldhead (co worker) and SSG is in the same lot as I and kinda in the way.  As I was pulling out (that's what he said) he continuously waved at me. 

Baldhead then says "Either he's gay and likes me or he's really digging you!" because of the constant waving in a matter of 2 minutes!

It's the end of February.  The last day of February would've been my day to say goodbye.  My last view of Sexy Sales Guy (that is, if he came to the ivory building...work) and I had to take off that morning due to an unfortunate circumstance.  At that point, I realized that I would never see or be with Sexy Sales Guy when I came to complete the day at work.  And I was right.

****

If the mat was on clearance, Sexy Sales Guy would not purchase it.  He would just laugh and pass it by while whispering "Happy New Year".

Hitching A Ride

As you recall, I left you two different stories about two different men.  I also peppered in a another one. That one doesn't really have much relevance, just yet.  He has plenty of relevance to my life.  I am just debating if that relevance is either good or bad.  Therefore, for the time being, he is skipped until further notice.

So I take you back one and two blogs.  Let's go back two blogs for a moment. I left you with Sexy Sales Guy.  This was the short one with the dark features who illuminated people's world for money and mine for free (although, it's not 'that' type of illumination...and not the dirty type either).  Enter confused face here.  I have, for about two years, had a crush on this man.  We had many chance encounters and learned a bit about each other with each encounter.  I also left you with an act that I committed.  I left a card on his car that was pretty vague, yet it referenced many conversations him and I had about the NCAA Basketball Championships of 2009.  Yes, I referred quite a ways back, but seriously, he couldn't have been that stupid enough to NOT know who it was. 

You will also remember Ol' Blue Eyes.  He was the one that I met a Smiley's Debacle and learned later at the Benefit that he asked out College Buddy's Sister.  I found this out at the Benefit in January of 2010.  Let's emphasize on this a bit more.  Now, Parole and Blue Eyes decided to stay at this venue and dance the night away with College Buddy and College Buddy's Sibling (the Debacle a year before).  Apparently, both Parole and Blue Eyes received a phone number of College Buddy's Sibling and both later tried calling her (the both of them at separate events).  Now, if you put enough liquor in one's system, anyone and everyone is gorgeous! Even the Parole child, who by the way has a child.  To my shock, he knows who the mother is! WOOHOO! Well, come time for the Benefit, we are all reunited except for the sibling.  Sibling, MIA.  I don't blame her.  Now, I was told of this story at the Benefit and wasn't really sure what was going on.  With the help of Instigator (Blue Eyes), he was happy to embark on the previous year's event that evening.  After many minutes of argument, and by far it was very entertaining to me, the conversation was over. 

Now, the Parole's ride was long gone (which was his mother, his friend, and his son who cannot drive but came because his father is the Parole) because he decided to stay and get drunk! As the Benefit's evening was coming to a close, Parole decided to volunteer a ride out of me, which wasn't happening.  I wasn't about to drive him anywhere and risk the chance of receiving any type of STD that was as drunk as the gifter of such a wonderful infection. 

Hey, the nice thing about herpes is that the memory of the person that gave it to you will never leave you! And if you forgot, a random burning feeling will let ya remember!!! YAY!  Well, I managed to escape. 

Later, I find out that Blue Eyes was left with such a gift, Parole.  It was very nice of him, and I am sure he enjoyed some hard core drunken action.  Well, think about it this way, the both tried leaving with someone, little did they know it would be with each other.

Any who, as Facebook allows, Ol' Blue Eyes found me thanks to mutual friends (whom I will kick later because of this) and sent me a message telling me he was stuck taking the drunken imbecile (Parole) to another bar! Who'd a thunk another bar?! Actually, I would and did think that. Shut up. There's always a beginning to another DUI story.  After a few messages, he grew up the nerve to ask me out.  I thought, "WOW! Persistent!" I had turned this guy down before because I was in a relationship, and he still asked me out a year later (and he knew I was no longer tied down to stalker boy...again...he'll have his day in another blog). 

There was a problem.

That same week he asked me out, I had placed the card on SSG's car!  I was waiting for what may have happened to that! So what did I do?  I said no.  Why?  Here was the excuse, he was Caucasian and a Republican and a devout Catholic.  Just in case we forgot here, I'm Arab, Democratic, and a devout Palestinian.  The Muslim thing doesn't affect me as much as being Palestinian. Can you imagine me bringing home a Republican?  "Hey mom, here's my Republican boyfriend!" and he introduces himself and asks why no one in the house goes by the name of Jihad. Although, that would be hilarious.  In fact, I would like very much for that to happen just for sheer entertainment. 

Again with the tangents. 

Ol' Blue Eyes gave me his two cents and it made plenty sense.  He tells me his view on the Palestine/Israel topic (which was shockingly great) and his belief of being different is great.  I thought after that, wow I'm screwed.  Here I am trying to get you off my back and you won't stop.  So I told him.  I said that I was persuing someone.  And that was the end of that. At least until I saw SSG the day after I placed the card on his car.

My mat is a bit damp tonight.  It's sweating from anticipation of what may happen next (even though it knows what happens next, but it doesn't want you to sweat alone).

Just Another Wedding

My friend, let's call her Smiley (she smiles all the time...through the good and the bad) had met her One and had a Debacle to celebrate the Mistake that she was about to make.  I, of course, was invited and went (2 hours late and left as soon as possible).  There was nothing wrong with the Debacle, it was just that this one was number 12 or so and I was a bit tired of them at this point.  Anyways, it was fun and very interesting to meet new folks and catch up with the old ones.

I was sat strategically at the Table O' Singles.  The Table O' Singles contained a lot of people that I knew from a while back, met then, and didn't realize were sitting there then.  One of those Singles was a guy that I knew for at least a decade before.  This guy had nothing going for him then and has nothing going for him now.  Let's put it this way, I don't want to drive him around on dates because his parole officer won't let him. On the other side of myself was another young fellow who seemed to be on the lookout that night. He stood many inches taller than I, I will assume 6' here. He had what seemed to be blue eyes, not pearly blue, but blue enough.  His hair stood about an inch above his head, light brown to be exact, and had what is referred to as the "Abe Lincoln Beard" that covered half his cheeky cheeks and cheeky chin.  His physique, also one of a tennis player, with a little less definition.  Some meat, but not SPAM meaty, meaty enough to fall of the bone and bear some marrow. His skin had the rugged cut of a man and a tone much lighter than what I am used to, although not light to where it was Casper-like, light to where I believed it could be considered just right for the good ol' white guy.

Ol' Blue Eyes also had a friend with him, male.  He was as tall as his host and much paler.  Not much to look at (for my tastebuds) but was very fun to talk to and make fun of Blue Eyes with.  I was content with my evening.  One thing leads to another and a group of us are talking (Parole Boy, Casper (pale friend), Blue Eyes, College Buddy (a chick I obviously went to college with), and the Sibling (College Buddy's sister)) and enjoying a drunken (except for me, wretched driving) conversation of how we met Smiley and why we were all mismatched on the Table of Doom, aka Table O' Singles.  As the night went on, Blue Eyes had taken a higher interest in me (yea, I know.  I'm wondering why, also) and we begin conversation about...um...well I forgot. I'm busy wondering why the hell I was in a Debacle for the umpteenth time anyways!  I really didn't care much about what he was saying.  Oh yes, I forgot, I was also busy thinking about how to get away from Friday.  Friday is another blog. But for now, we'll stick with Blue Eyes and his antics. 

He suddenly surprised me with "Would you like to dance" and I hesitantly agreed.  Now, I'm in the South Suburbs of Chicago.  Arab/Irish central.  White and Arab and Mexican and Black all live segregatedly as one in this area.  I'm kind of thinking in my head, "Great, some freaking camel jockey is going to walk in and see me with Blue Eyes and tell Nutso I'm pregnant" or something.  Digression:  The Debacle was held at a spacious venue with at least six other events in the same building that is open to the public.  If you are familiar with the area, you may have a tiny inclination about which "mardi gras" joint I am talking about.  Any who, we dance.  I'm slightly uncomfortable because I have Friday.  Now, Friday and I looked happy, but I was miserable.  Therefore, it was OK that I was dancing with Blue Eyes.  The end was coming for Friday as I knew it, and Blue Eyes knew he existed.  Therefore, Blue Eyes stopped pressing for my number and settled with a gentle 5 minute waltz to some oldies while Smiley and The One for her danced next to us thinking "Awwww, we made a match at our 'Debacle'." I thought to myself, "Back off, no you did not!"

Next thing you know, the song is over and our dance was done.  It felt nice to dance with Blue Eyes.  It was nice to be held by someone who found me intriguing, although I am sure he was sort of in a drunken fury at this point.  Although, I did have that somewhere else(minus the drunken fury), Friday's days were numbered...just like in the movies.  But, so was Blue Eyes' days.  I was then long gone afterward. I scatted out of the Debacle as fast as possible and found the closest watering hole I could find. 

And then, the truth came out.  It turns out the Sibling, College Buddy, Parole Boy, Casper, and Blue Eyes had a story to tell me.  It was what I found out at The Benefit that had me thinking otherwise, especially about Blue Eyes.

My mat is hanging by a thread on these cliffs I keep putting it on.

SSG

"Oh my God! I saw him today!" would be my normal reaction to a select group of friends that are in contact with me on a daily basis.  "He saw me and I saw him and we locked eyes and he waved! I'm in love with him.  Mentally, I'm pregnant and carrying his baby!" This would be my reaction every single time I saw this man.

Sexy Sales Guy was a stellar young fellow.  He stood a mere 5'7'' or 8'', yet had the phsyique of a tennis player.  He was not muscular in respects to being meat-head, yet toned and defined.  I speak of him in past tense. 

I work for a company that is housed in a building. It is a  building in which it accommodated four other companies.  Floor one housed two companies.  You are able to apply for a mortgage loan and file reports to the state on this level.  Floor two is home to the creative minds of McDonald's Happy Meal toys.  Floor three allowed you illumination to your homes with light and find doctor's offices with scanners that can save your life.  Finally, floor four strategically finds solutions for your financial institution with research and data analysis.  Each floor has its importance for everyone.  Typically one floor per person involved.  In my case, I was worried about two.  You see, as I scurried along with the working folk to floor four, I always found myself in a chance encounter with a stetson young fellow who illuminated one's world.  Not only did he do this for his clients, he did so for me.

One day, I had taken notice of this man who illuminated everyone's world and thought to myself, "Wow!" Now, not many people are able to put me in this "Wow!" frenzy, but he did.  He is Sexy Sales Guy.  Every time I took a glance at his chiseled, olive face, I thought to myself, "he's out of my league" and ended it at that.  My crush began to grow.  One day, as I was encasing my body with cancer, he pulls into the parking lot and brings a heavy case inside with him.  I, being prematurely finished with my cancer stick, head towards the door as if my much needed break was over and "by chance" (hey, sometimes you have to put fate in your own hands) help by opening the conversation with a crack at "You need help?" and end up opening the door.  The introduction begins, and names are announced.  Even a handshake was involved.  Some petty conversation rose and then, floor three arrived as we both said our goodbyes and I fluttered back to being a corporate lackey with a slight bit more of excitement in me.

Here and there we would run into each other.  More petty conversation.  He is a city dweller who rooted for the University of Michigan as I cheered on my Blue Demons during March Madness of 2009.  He loved to exercise, as he took runs during lunch, and sometimes wore clothes that made me wonder if he ever modeled for Express. I can imagine him in a white button down shirt worn under a black blazer and with black trowsers.  His shoes, must be from Aldo's.  The collar is stiff and covers his neck as he turns his head slightly to the right at me and tells me he loves me (ok, this was a figure of my imagination, but he would look great in that outfit).   His brown eyes and dark hair made me wonder his origins.  Are they Latin, Mediterranean, Middle Eastern?  It was this notion. Sometimes, when he would walk down a corridor towards me, as I was entering in from the opposite end, he would look at me and then look down. He would then peer up to me with his beautiful brown eyes and smile with a one eyebrow slightly raised and say, "Hello, how are you" shyly.  His boyish timidness never overpowered him.  He managed to begin conversation with me, regardless of the hurry or not. Even when I was in a bad mood, and he was able to tell, the conversation would continue and I never minded (although I feel that one time he probably took notice and thought he was a nuisance when in fact I felt a client had ruined my life...you see this potential Three's Company-like misunderstanding can revere ones mind in a different direction if taken the wrong way).  Never the less, the conversation, as petty as it was, was fantastic.  It was fantastic because this man took notice of who I was.  I felt a bountiful of importance, considering that I think he's out of my league, it's a compliment to me when we spoke.

Then one day, I decided to do it.  I found out that Sexy Sales Guy's company was leaving.  I didn't know what to do.  In a state of sheer sadness, I decided to do the ultimate act that no other girl would do for someone who had constant petty conversations with another man.  After the New Year, I decided to take things one step further.  I decided to buy him a "Happy New Years Card".  (Digression: Hallmark will do anything for a buck, Seriously, who the hey thinks of that?  I was looking for a leftover Christmas card and only found box sets.  Then, I was given the direction of the Happy New Years card...WOOHOO! Saved!).  This card was simplicity at its finest.  On the cover, it had some bear with a star under "Happy New Years" and inside had some shit like "Wishing you a Happy New Years" blah blah blah.  Very friendly, no references for me wanting to give him my hymen.  Nothing.  Just a simple Happy New Years.  I proceeded to add in a reference of conversation.  "Maybe this March you can root for the DePaul Blue Demons instead of Michigan :)"  We have had many conversations about our colleges and where we both came from.  I thought to myself, he has to be an idiot not to know who this is. 

And so, I placed the card in the envelope, wrote his name neatly on the cover of the envelope and placed it on his car as I had planned un-strategically and constantly that began just three weeks prior to the act.

Thanks Nutso, Thanks

Really, what is it with mothers?  Why is it that they are excited to get all prepared for a debacle?  I was recently at my homegirl's Pre-Debacle Debacle (in which was really fun, actually...so thank you) and Nutso (guess whose mama) tells my main homey (I roll, that's right bitches, I roll) that she doesn't think that I'll make the Mistake with someone that SHE wants.  Are you effing kidding me?  You're freakin' nuts! She told my best friend this! This just came to light, well, because I am most likely going to bring her someone that isn't of Nutso's standards. 

Nutso's Standards (aka, Unimportant Acquaintances Perception of How "Happy" Your Shitty Family Really Isn't)

Like all the rest of the assholes we try to impress, The One must be of Arab descent, same religion, good family, blah blah blah. Read The One for a refresher. Nutso always has someone in mind for me that she would like to see me with. As for all the other Unimportant Acquaintances, they just keep babbling Ukbal 3ndik.   The Nutso's One must be a stellar man, successful, preferably a doctor or lawyer or engineer, must have a good family name, must be Muslim, and most importantly...must be Arab. She is terrified that I will bring her a non-Arab.  In fact, I have brought her a non-Arab, a Muslim non-Arab, but he still stayed a "non" to her.  He was absolutely nothing. 

Nutso's standards does not finish here.  He must be able to handle her craziness.  The fact that he can understand her swears when she yells at me in front of him is a must.  There must be many embarrassing moments that I will have to endure at one point with Nutso. Every Mom is a Nutso, it's a matter of fact that all our Nutso's are different with their nagging.

Well, what if I don't have the Standard of Nutso on my arm.  If you haven't noticed in the past blogs, I've tried with these fucks.  In fact, I haven't had any luck.  Just ask their wives, girlfriends, parole officers, or shrinks.  They'll tell you, I've tried and had NO LUCK.  But, it doesn't matter what I think.  I'm not going to be making babies with this guy or anything.  It's not like I''m going to be living with this person.  He'll be living to Nutso's standards and what I have to say is obsolete.  Why, because the Unimportant Acquaintances have congratulated Nutso for doing a job well done with raising me.

Digression Alert: Jay Leno is an asshole.  I miss Coco!  Horrible jokes, Leno.

OK, so here is my solution to making Nutso and other Unimportant Acquaintances happy with themselves when talking about me behind Nutso's back.  Honestly, I can give to flying fucks that they say anything. Marry an Arab....just for show. Live in seperate homes.  When our Nutsos want to come over, pick the mutual home that we "live in" together, be fake, when they leave...go to our seperate homes, get wasted at a bar, fuck the hell out of some random dude, and be on your marry way.

And who said I can't compromise?

My mat is saturated of gin.  It's at the bar waiting for me after my dinner party with Um Who Gives A Fuck.