If it's the thought that counts... you can't count

So, on my non-date (out with a friend) on Valentine's day (still way more fun than a bad date), she was feeling pressure that I wasn't going to have a good story to blog about.  But we did talk about past boyfriends, funny (and sad) break-ups and BAD gifts.  I've gotten bad gifts from several boyfriends, but up until Sunday night I thought my grandma won for worst gift(s) - who gives a six-year-old an ashtray?  An alcoholic, stingy grandma, that's who.  Although she was a chain smoker so maybe she really was giving from the heart. 

 But anyway, back to the worst birthday gift ever from a guy to a girl: hub caps.  Yep, hub caps. Unfortunately they had already broken up so she didn't get to break up with him for that reason.  

This same girl also got from another guy (whom we originally thought was a good catch) a bread maker for Christmas and pots and pans.    She also got (from another boyfriend) a thrift-store suede jacket (she already had the same jacket, only newer).  Hmmm...what is the thought behind those gifts? She really needs to publish a wish list (Amazon has one - it's like registering for single people!). 

Another friend said her boyfriend was going to get her a NY Times Subscription. At least it's not the Readers Digest subscription my dad keeps sending me.  It makes me feel old to get one.  Or like I'm at the dentist's office.

I had an old boyfriend who used to give me books for birthdays.  One year he gave me a book on massage and some massage oils.  And no massage.  So does that mean I'm supposed to give him one?  I guess I shouldn't have said anything, cause then one Christmas he gave me - surprise! - an engagement ring. [I know, I know, I'm going to hell in a hand basket.]  

Rivets in Rwanda

Rwanda - In February 2009 I visited Kigali for work.  I didn't know what to expect since really the only thing I knew about Rwanda was the presence of gorillas, and the genocide.  

Outside of Kigali, there are policemen stationed every few miles to make sure people aren't speeding.  Or maybe something more.  We're not aure how they would know since they are just standing there (no cars or motorcycles visible) and don't have equipment, but P. says she got pulled over once because of the 'sound of her engine'.  Although they can't chase you they could radio ahead to the next guy, and so on.  Cops & robbers chase scenes here would be very different than in American movies. 

It is gorgeous countryside - hilly and green - farmed within an inch of its life. From above it would look like a quilt with several cats under it.  The roads are very good.  We are told they were paid for and built by Chinese -- which could explain the bike lanes. We ride behind a heavily laden truck for a while and there are two men on bikes holding on to the bumper for help up the hill.  


There are goats in the sky.  They have pens on stilts and they can climb up ladders to get to them.  I think it's to protect them from predators.  But also to be able to collect their poop for fertilizer.  Ingenious. [I'm not sure WHY there are goats on the roof in Georgia.  This is for real]


While Kigali feels safe and calm (there are sidewalks many places and drivers actually slow down for people in the crosswalks), there is some crime. One of our colleagues (a Canadian expat) lives across from the police station but still the mirrors were stolen from her (well, really the organization's) brand new SUV. She filed a report with the police, who suggested she go to a certain place in town to find them. It was called "Toyota." She gave the date and location they were stolen from and a few minutes later a man came out.  "Yes, I stole your mirrors-would you like to buy them back?" (and the police know all about it?) So she did.  She has created a market for her own car parts.  


But cleverly she asked him what else would be valuable to steal. He told her and then helped her rivet all those items on - including the mirrors of course, and the trim, but not the antenna. A cracked mirror is not valuable to the thief, so they cracked it. The trouble now is that with the crack and the rivets the mirrors are unusable.

No date is better than a bad date

I admit it.  I'm single. It's Valentine's Day.  I don't have a date for tonight.  I don't think I'm bitter.  I don't really even like chocolate anymore.  I get more excited about a nice cheese.  

I am one of those girls who would rather have no date than a bad date.  And if you've read previous blogs you know that I tend to make out with someone before I get his number.  Have to make sure a date would be worth my time.

Let's see, the last time I went on an actual first date was a couple years ago.  I was at a restaurant bar at a sort of mixer hosted by a friend.  I was sober because I had a race the next day, but my friend wasn't.  She was letting a guy flirt with her - to the point that she gave her number and insisted he call her right then.  He did, but she forgot by the time we got to her car (I drove), saying "He's never gonna call me." (I think the next day she was glad he didn't - not her type.)

So, anyway, back to the bar: the friend of "her" guy toodled up to get me out of the way.  When he said "give me your number" (later I found out he learned that from a dating advice tape - yes, really, that along with the "PD" - putdown - to get a girl's attention).  I gave him my number (reluctantly: he wasn't my type and by that I mean that I didn't find him attractive), and hoped he wouldn't call.  He did, the next day.  I thought that was against the rules?  I tried the tired "I'm going to Kenya" line (and I might never come back), but he was persistent.  We ended meeting for one drink before my other plans.  

Somehow he got on the topic of his many breakups.  I am pretty sure that that is NOT recommended on the dating tapes, but he seemed proud of his stories.  Some were dramatic.  All were pathetic.  (I kept thinking if all those girls didn't want to go out with you, why would I go out with you?)  There was one about having a loud argument in a restaurant in Spain (I think he made her get her own room after that), and that might have been the girl who was supposed to go on a cruise with him. So he made a website for girls to compete to go on the cruise with him.  I still can't decide if that's funny or sad.

So why, you would ask, did I ever go out with him again?  Well, this might also be a pathetic story, too. I did go to Kenya, and when I came back I was jet lagged, had no food, and was too tired to go to the grocery store, so I accepted his an invitation to dinner.  A couple of bottles of wine helped to smooth the awkwardness.

So why did I go out with him again?  Well, to be honest, my bottle of the wine and the jet lag combined so that when he sat me on my sofa and tried to kiss me, I fell asleep.  While he was kissing me.  I remember the look on his face when he left.  It's that face of disappointment that gets me every time.  It's probably why I got married (to someone else, long ago - it didn't stick).    So somehow I felt an obligation to date him to make up for my being a bad kisser.

I had to go out with him for a while to find an appropriately dramatic way to break up.  He came to visit me during my assignment in Beijing (during the Olympics) and I broke up with him then.  It worked. I've heard from friends of friends that I am referred to as "the Olympic girl."   Better than being known as "the bad kisser."

As they say, bad publicity is better than no publicity.  But no date is better than a bad date.  

My first date...ever...and why sometimes it's better to be single

People seem to be pretty upset by Valentine's Day.  Is it because even if they have a "Valentine" they feel pressured by commercials to have the best time ever?1    

Is it because if they don't have a Valentine they feel MORE lonely?  No, no, my theory is that Valentine's Day makes us think about our romantic lives.  So, thinking about the beginnings of my romantic life.... Does my crush on a cadet at West Point count?  Maybe not, I was 6 or 7.  But I do still have a thing for fit men with short hair and uniforms.  It could be any uniform, really, these days.  UPS man?  Taco Bell employee?  Caliente!  

But technically the point where you could actually call it romance2, it began in seventh grade.  Alfred3 at Hicory Elementary4 asked me to be his date to the 7th grade graduation dance5. 

I was mortally embarrassed to be only one with a date Looking back I should have been proud. Well I was sort of the new kid in town. After the embarrassments of too-short pants - called 'floods' by a classmate - and being told I needed a bra in music class6, I guess I showed those bitches.  

To make it worse, my mom laughed at me about it.  When I came home from school the day he asked me7, my mom asked what was wrong and I said she had to promise not to laugh.  Well, I told her and...she laughed.  I can't blame her8; I think I was being pretty dramatic.  

To make it worser9, he gave me a corsage!  I think it was the kind with the flowers on a wristband.  At least he didn't have to get near my boobs (in a bra) to pin on the corsage.  I don't think I even thanked him, or talked to him. Yep, it was probably the most awkward dance in the world. I'm pretty sure I never spoke to him again. Poor guy, wonder if he was as tramautized by the whole thing.10   

It didn't get much better for a while.  The first guy I remember having a crush on was Paul. We met in church.11 He was into my mom. Or gay?12  I still don't have have gay-dar.

And then two proms (mine and his) senior year with Gay (I mean Jay) Montgomery.13  Maybe that's why I make out with a guy before deciding whether to date him. Just to make sure...

Well, this was therapeutic.  Looking forward to St Patrick's day.  Nobody gets upset about that one.

1 - Of course, by this line of thinking, we should also be mad about the pressure to buy a mattress on President's Day.

2 - Well, potential for romance - hey, have you ever noticed if you type too fast it's "romacne"?

3 - Not his real name

4 - Not its real name. But the real name was a mis-spelled tree name. And I thought it would be funny to use a tree named after a hick as the pseudonym.

5 - Yes, there are so many things wrong with that - but I guess in the south you have to celebrate that achievement just in case you don't make it through the rigors of high school.

6 - Also, looking back, something to celebrate - someone noticed my boobs!  It might have been the last time. Oh wait, this is supposed to be funny.

7 - I just remember my face getting really red, I have no idea what I said but it must have been close to yes.

8 - Now.  I did for years.

9 - I know this is not a word.  But neither is "nother," as in "a whole nother," and everyone says that.

10 - Who am I kidding? He probably went home after the dance, spanked the monkey,and never gave it a second thought. 

11 - I KNOW, right? Who would ever believe I went to church? Obviously, it didn't stick.

12 - He WAS in all the church musicals.

13 - That is his real name, and I don't care to protect his privacy - the asshole never gave me the photos and I know I looked good in that red strapless dress my mom made. And he didn't even have the decency to try to make out with me (or let me make out with him) in the room with 18 other teens at the Peachtree Plaza.14 

14 - Did my parents know I was there? How did that happen?

Notes from the Snuggie Pub Crawl

Some of you have missed my blogs from far away places.  [if you haven't, don't read further.]   In the interest of learning more about this strange world called "Atlanta," I participated in a burgeoning winter ritual called the Snuggie Pub Crawl. A few anthropological notes from the field:

 1. A"Snuggie" is a cheap, ugly blanket with sleeves designed for people who like to lie on the couch and eat Fritos. It is not well designed for walking around in bars with yuck on the floor. No-one wants to admit he or she owns one because it admits that you might be fond of lying on the couch and/or eating Fritos.

2. Because it is voluminous and brightly colored or (in my case) patterned, it is possible to hide a multitide of figure challenges from a potential mate. Thus the new social terms "Snugly" and "Beer Snuggling."

 3. There are only three ways to wear the Snuggie: open in the back, hospital style; open in the front, pub crawl style; and Snuggie-on-the-ground style - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Yx9P9sV7Z0&feature=related.

 4. If you and your friends are witty, or just plain insecure about actually owning a Snuggie, you will be tempted to make lame jokes like "Snuggies not Huggies" or accidental tongue twisters like Puggie Snub Crawl. You might say wearing your Zebra-patterned Snuggie backwards makes you an "Arbez". Don't be fooled by all the drunken giggling. These are not funny. 

 5. If someone attempts to mate with you: be flattered. He must think you have a great personality (see #2).

 6. If you try to be socially responsible and take the bus to the pub crawl, wearing your Snuggie instead of a coat, you will be mocked by people in passing cars. And the bus will not show up. It will be too cold (and too embarrassing) to stand there waiting for the f-ing bus.