SOS: Internet Dating

Once again, joining in on Soap Opera Sunday, hosted by the lovely Walking Kateastrophy this week. Read my previous entries here and here.

How many of you cringed from the bad memories brought back by that title? Come on...I know I'm not the only one! Two of my siblings met their spouses through the Internet, even. I wasn't that lucky.

Back when the Internet was new and innocent, I thought it was so much fun making "friends" online. We'd chat for hours and then exchange emails when not on at the same time. Some made it to phone calls and a select few I met in person. Wanna hear about the first one? Of course you do! Because here you are, reading my blog and giving me complete control over it's content. Silly you.

I met Darrel online. I am pretty sure we met in an AOL chatroom because that was the only place to go and chat those days. He was smart and I liked being around smart people. Also? He laughed (or LOL'd) at my jokes, so he was practically perfect, right?

He was a little older than me. I was just starting my first semester of college and he was a junior in college. We went to different schools but our parents lived fairly close to one another so we knew about the same places. He told me where he worked and I told him that I didn't have to work (because I was a spoiled little Daddy's girl). He was studying computers and I was studying flirting - uh, I mean, communications. We both roomed with our best friends from high school. He was not LDS but remembered seeing a commercial once. I was a good little Mormon girl. Oh so much in common.

We talked for weeks, then months. Emails and on the phone. He was on the shy side but I always liked that about guys. Too many wallflowers suddenly found themselves at the center of my attention. I probably scared them. Darrel was amazed at my habit of starting conversations with perfect strangers.

"How do you know what to say?" he asked, bewildered.
"I usually start with a question, something that fits the situation," I shared my vast knowledge so freely.
"Like what?"
"Well, in grocery stores, in the freezer section I'll ask them what's their favorite flavor of ice cream."
"I could never do that," he replied. "I'd be too embarrassed if they didn't say anything back."

Not answering my innocent little question? Unthinkable! In fact, it had never happened to me. I was cute.

Then came that fateful day...we had talked about meeting face to face for a while but never could get our schedules lined up (and I had a boyfriend so I kinda avoided it). But then I switched colleges in the middle of the year, left behind my full-ride scholarship and my boyfriend, changing to Darrel's university, as it was the closest one, which allowed me to live at home. I was free again and starting a whole new chapter. Shortly thereafter, Darrel mentioned he had to work on a particular Saturday. Well, that day, it just so happened that my BFF and I were out driving around. We just happened to be in the same area as Darrel's illustrious job at Best Buy. I convinced my friend to stop...I had to see what this guy looked like! And besides, I was looking cute that day and wanted to take advantage of the fact. We would sneak through the store, trying to find him and then bail if he wasn't a cutie. No harm, no foul, right?

Inside the store, I scanned name tags on every remotely cute guy we passed on the way to the computer department. No Darrel. Back amongst the computers, there was a hottie with streaked hair and I have to admit, my hopes rose. Unfortunately, his name was not Darrel. But being me, I just had to strike up a conversation. Darrel was still nowhere in sight and I could only hang out amongst the PCs and monitors before someone got suspicious. So I enlisted Mr. Hottie's help. I asked him if he knew a Darrel that worked here. He said he did but Darrel was in the back, hardly ever worked on the floor. Oh. Then I explained why I was there. The look on the guy's face should have tipped me off, especially when he looked me up and down and continued to look surprised. But he offered to page Darrel for me. He wasn't subtle. Darrel knew immediately who was waiting for him. So I tried to look nonchalant and at home amongst the motherboards when really I was starting to regret this decision.

Then Darrel showed up.

I don't think he ever described himself to me, other than the basics: brown hair, brown eyes, average height. And those were the high points. His hair was already thinning on top, despite his young age. While he wasn't overweight or covered in pimples, he was not cute. Not at all. And the first thing he said to me?

"Hey, what's your favorite flavor of ice cream?"

So smooth.

Mr. Hottie watched my reaction carefully and gave me a pitying smile.

"I always wondered what one of these meetings would be like," he said, when I could not find anything to say to Darrel, the real Darrel, not some imagined one that I can constructed through all those sweet emails.

I left shortly thereafter. I think my friend probably laughed the whole way home and I don't blame her. What was I thinking? I still talked to Darrel but I didn't flirt anymore. We even saw each other on campus a few times and I interviewed him (over the phone) for an article I wrote for the student paper. However, I promised myself no more meetings without getting a photo of the guy first. But I still didn't swear off the whole "we met on the Internet" idea. Silly, silly me.

Product Review: Sesame Street Fizzy Tub Colors

Anyone else tired of the bath time wrestling matches? Anyone else have a child that willingly plunges themselves into the nearest outdoor puddle or plays in the sink until everything within six feet is drenched but then shrieks in terror at the mere mention of a bath? Yeah. I was kinda sick of it, too.

Me, I love baths! When we bought this house, the one thing that I was adamant about was that the Master Bath have a jacuzzi tub. I have spent many a relaxing moment in that tub with music, candles and a mug of hot chocolate. It's exactly what I need when stressed out, at the end of my rope, dealing with a painful situation or all of the above. And the jets are loud enough to drown out the pitiful wailing of neglected kids as the lay crying outside the bathroom door.

My children have not inherited this love of the tub. Da Boo doesn't mind baths. She likes them more now that I let her wash herself and told her she could pretend to be a mermaid, but they are not her favorite thing. But the Boy...well, the Boy we refer to as "the Kraken." For good reason. The Man usually has to give the Boy his bath, seeing as how he has two working arms and can better contend with a slippery escapee.

Then my long-lost good buddy, Kate, posted about something new on her blog: Sesame Street Fizzy Tub Colors. Her kids were even more afraid of the tub but would jump right in when there were funky colors. I wanted to try that! On my last grocery store trip, I found them! They were on the shelf with the other kid-themed bath washes and such. Couldn't wait for bath night!


The Boy got to choose first, since he's the first one in the water. They come in blue, red and yellow. He wanted yellow.


Ewwww...it was a little disconcerting, that yellow color in my bath tub...Da Boo chose the red tablet (it looked purple in tablet form and took some convincing before she believed me).

This is the tablet when I first dropped it in.

About a minute later...

...and after the tablet was fully dissolved, which didn't take very long at all and kept my kids completely enthralled the whole time. It actually looks like a pretty pinkish-orange.

The kids loved having the colored water! There is a warning on the container that it might irritate eyes but they did not seem to have a problem, happily splashing like mad. It did, however, turn the white washcloth a slightly pink color. I expect it to come out in the wash as the color is very subtle.

Like I said, I got this at the grocery store, paid less than $3 for 24 tablets. Kids loved it and it really calmed down the whole bath/wrestling situation. So mission accomplished! Highly recommend, especially if you have a little one afraid of the tub.

If you try this, let me know what you think!

What he heard...

I said: "Go clean up the toy room while I make your lunch."


He heard: "Go find random things to dress up in so when I call you for lunch and you show up looking like this, I'll have a good reason to eat chocolate all afternoon."

Last night we went to da Boo's preschool graduation. Pictures coming! Fighting some allergies and hate having to wipe off the computer monitor every few minutes.

SOS: Date From Hell Part 3

We join our story, already in progress (Part One and Part Two) as our heroine battles Mole Boy in a darkened theater. Will she come out unscathed? Or will she succumb to his insistence that she must kiss on a first date?

We got to the movie early. Of course. And there's nothing more pleasant than sitting in a darkened room with someone who keeps trying to put the moves on you, while praying that the projectionist will accidentally start the movie 30 minutes early so this punk will get distracted and leave you the heck alone.

What makes his efforts all the more irritating was the fact that he kept making more sexist remarks about what he knows girls like. For instance, all girls like to share the big bucket of popcorn so they can hold hands with their dates inside it. Really? The idea of clinging to someone else's greasy hand doesn't appeal to me. I'd rather stuff my face with all that salty goodness...with my own bucket, thank you.

This was a new theater. It had stadium seating, back when that was a new concept. Also, the armrests on the seats could be pushed up to allow for the ultimate snuggling experience. Or to make room for larger bottoms. I was hoping against hope that Mole Boy did not know about this little feature. He did. As soon as the lights went down to start the show, he went for the armrest, my last defensive barrier. Dang it.

The movie was The Mirror Has Two Faces. It starred Barbra Streisand. I don't like Babs. Her music is okay but she is sooooo incredibly full of herself that I just never cared for her (gay men everywhere are deleting my blog from their blogrolls in horror at that statement). The plot of the movie: Ugly woman hates herself, hates mother. She meets a cute guy who wants a relationship but without the complication that intimacy brings. She agrees. She falls in love with him, he refuses to sleep with her. He leaves on a long trip, she loses weight, dyes her hair blonde, learns how to use make-up, and changes into a uber babe. He returns and is so smitten with her that they must immediately consummate their sham marriage. Or something like that. But Barbra was the director and just couldn't make herself look as frumpy on film as her character was supposed to look. And she's in about 99% of the shots. It was the worst movie I'd ever been forced to watch on a date (with Six Days Seven Nights a close second...but that's another story).

So there I am, wedged as far as I can go in my seat, watching an impossibly stupid movie, eating no popcorn (because I re-fus-ed to put my hand in that bucket lest he take it for a sign), with Mole Boy pressed up against my left shoulder. At least he wasn't on my bad shoulder. But he was laying his head on my shoulder and he hair smelled like WD-40 or something else I'd find in a garage. Awkward much?

I went to the bathroom twice during the movie. Didn't really need to, just wanted away, get some fresh air. The second time, I considered having a friend pick me up and just leaving him behind. But that would be mean. So I opted to endure to the end.

As soon as the credits started rolling, I peeled myself away from him and nearly dashed to the car, with my injured pinkie toe urging me to run faster. He drove me home, scarcely believing that I did not thoroughly enjoy the "girl movie." Like a good boy, he walked me to my door. And like a good girl, I thanked him for the evening. Might have hurried a little too quickly to get away from him because he was getting that look. All girls know that look...the one that a boy gets when he really wants to kiss you and is just waiting for the moment. I did not give him an opening. When he started to lean in, I kept my head turned away, so if he attempted a kiss, he'd get my ear. Didn't help that my porch light really brought out his moles.

I ducked inside with one last "goodnight" and quickly closed the door behind me. Finally! I intended to celebrate the conclusion of that misery with a big slice of my birthday cake. But alas, the anguish was not over: someone ate the rest of my cake! That's what I get with three brothers and a sister still living at home.

He still emailed me. I just acted like the girl he thought I would be and didn't get the hints that he wanted to see me again. He showed up at a few dances and asked me to dance but by then, I was seeing someone new so my new crush got most of the dances. Mole Boy finally took the hint after a few months. He's not a quick one, I'd say.

And just to prove how cold-hearted I am...the reason I refer to him as Mole Boy is not to protect his true identity but because I can't actually remember his name! Paul? Michael? I got nothing.

Lips Sealed

So I haven't been posting all that regularly lately. Wanna know why? Well, first of all, there were lots and lots and lots of cakes to decorate (and another version of an old one).

Plus? I have a secret. I am horrible at keeping secrets. I'd rather tell you but first I need to make sure of a few more dates...but I really, really wanna tell you! So whenever I sit down to write up a post, all I can think of are different ways to share my secret. And that just won't do. You'll have to wait just a little longer but I promise I'll tell you soon, okay?

How do you keep secrets? Or are you as bad as me at that?
Do you have a secret you want to share?

(And please, if you already know my secret or have a good guess DON'T SAY! I will delete any comments that reveal or hint at it to save the surprise for everyone!)