Free mini-fiction: The worst pickup line ever

Adriennes blog 20 butt picHi, I’m Adrienne.   I’m getting really tired of ranting about my divorce, so I asked my friend Rob what I should talk about.  He said I should tell you about the (very misguided) night my sister Kristen and I went to a bar.

You have to understand that we were both a mess.  I had a baby a few months ago but was recently mistaken for still being pregnant, and Kristen was getting over being dumped… by her married boyfriend.  So we weren’t A+ on the self-esteem scale.

Kristen and I don’t hang out together too often.  She’s a few years younger and doesn’t have kids.  She says she doesn’t want to have kids specifically because of me.  That’s what a stellar mom I am.

Normally Kristen would have a date or a girls’ night out with her real friends, but on this one particular Friday, I was home alone and so was she. I could have dealt with it by putting on PJs and watching The Ugly Truth for the fourth time, but Kristen does not sit at home and she does not spend time alone, ever.

She lured me out offering to make me look better (and less pregnant – she wasn’t promising any miracles).  I have brown, curly, almost kinky hair, whereas Kristen’s is blonde and straight (with a lot of money and labor, mind you).  I put on some mascara at 7 a.m. before work and that’s it for the day, while Kristen believes you must reapply at lunchtime and dinnertime and before going out at night.

I’m sure this is one of many reasons why she dates more than I do, but hey, we’re both single, so I don’t think she’s winning.

After carting in a mini suitcase of makeup, spackling my face, and spraying something sticky in my hair, Kristen pulled half the clothes out of my closet and finally approved of a sparkly black sweater over dark rinse jeans.  She made me put on heels too.

Our choice of hangouts is pretty slim pickings:  either a club dominated by people who are right around age 21 or one of the neighborhood bars where the average patron is 60+.  There’s not much in between.  I vetoed the club, so we ended up in one of those dingy establishments where everyone turns around to look at the door every time it opens to see who’s coming in.  They’re rarely surprised either, so it was an exciting night at the Lucky Mug when Kristen and Adrienne stepped through that door.

Obviously Kristen gets the most male attention, and she deserves it.  She works for it.  Besides, she was like insect repellent – all the gnats were bothering her and leaving me alone.  One guy in a black t-shirt that actually had a hole by the armpit strode up and bumped into her leg.

“I knee’d you,” he said.  “Get it?  Knee’d?  N-E-E-D?”

Kristen just glared as the guy’s friend yelled from across the bar, “Knee with a K, you dumbass!”

“Lay off, Eddie,” the bartender said, shooing him back to his friends, who were laughing at him and high-fiving each other.  He had probably fulfilled a dare just by coming over to talk to Kristen.

“What’ll you girls be having?” the bartender asked us as she wiped down the bar in front of us with an infectious-looking damp rag.  She thunked down a bowl of sad looking half-crushed party mix that I’m sure got scooped back into the gallon-size jar every night at closing time.  I could just imagine that those orange tortilla chips would taste like smoke.

As Kristen ordered us each a beer, I turned my back to the men at the end of the bar, only to hear one of them yell out, “Are those space pants?  Because your ass is out of this world!”  Another riot of laughter started up and Kristen said out of the corner of her mouth, “See, I told you those pants are good on you.  Look at that, you getting hit on already.”

So this is what I’ve been missing?  I think I was better off at home with my pint-sized pals Ben and Jerry.  I’ll tell you the rest of the story next time, but if you want to read more about Kristen and me and our swinging single lives, check out Giving Myself Away.   How about making me feel better by telling me the worst pickup line you ever heard?

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Sexy texty and the single mom

Adriennes blog 8 oreosHi, I’m Adrienne.  The last time I was single, there was no such thing as sexting.  I doubt anyone would care if shown evidence that I have dirty thoughts, but I can’t help but mistrust men who want to get right down to business.  I sense potential blackmail in my future.

I have a problem with Oreos and pretty much everything else made primarily of carbs, so when I’m feeling virtuous, I keep an online food diary.  Since we dieters need support, you can meet other people crazy enough to keep journals of everything they eat.

I never thought of this as a place to meet guys, but boy, you better be careful of what picture you post in your profile.  Workout clothes are apparently quite the turn-on these days because a lot of guys on this site want to be “friends.”  The first time I got a friend request from a man, I figured the guy was on this site for the same reason I was, which is trying to lose those last ten pounds (okay, fifteen).

However, it got weird when my new diet buddy started asking me more personal questions, like, “If you could sleep with any actor, who would it be?”  Wow, to be honest, I had never even considered that because the possibility of sleeping with any actor was not on my radar.  I tried to be nice about it until he asked me whether I fantasized about him… uh, I don’t even know you, so… NO.

Then he proceeded to say a few explicit things to me involving parts of his body and mine.  I was kind of flattered, because let’s be honest, no one had talked to me like that in a looong time, but on the other hand, I was a bit alarmed.  At this point, I was really glad he didn’t know where I live.

Am I that out of it after being married for so long?

I stopped talking to that guy because he seemed too aggressive and even though he was older, it made me feel old to be so put off by sexy talk.  He didn’t even bother to ask my name before he got to the nitty gritty.

But because of him, I realized that texting men who live far away has its advantages and I began to be more open-minded.  I realized this was a safer re-entry into the world of dating than actual dates, both physically and emotionally.

Plus I have two kids at home and I don’t have to arrange babysitters or explain why I’m going out for dinner with a man who is not their father.  The only explaining I have to do is why I occasionally have a goofy smirk on my face for seemingly no reason.

Maybe I’m not ready for a relationship, but writing suggestive texts to a guy makes me feel like I’m still a woman with some charms.  You can read all about how I got dropped back into the dating pool in Giving Myself Away, being released next month.  Thanks for reading, and please share your thoughts on sexting.

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