...............
I think I'll be a hitman.
I can make the strongest, most macho man disappear.
No violence, no debris.
I disarm him with my charm.
I weaken his knees with my smile.
He drops all his armor at the sight of my beauty.
He is where I want him. In love with me at first sight; reciting sonnets. He searches no more for his soul mate.
He is exposed. His jugular and his achilles, his soft belly.
I could whack him at that moment but my methods are more subtle.
Just one date with me and POOF, he's gone!
Never to be heard from again.
............................
About Me
- Rosa
- Haifa, Israel
- Divorced and independent and still looking for Mr. Right in the back of the fridge.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Pass the Pretzels
....................................................
I moved from suburbia to the city so that I would have things to do when I was alone.
So, when I was feeling restless one hot summer night and I decided that an adorable Miniature French Poodle is as good a conversation starter as any, I put on my casual best, cleaned my dog's butt, and decided to take her for a walk in what passes for the center of activity around here.
After driving in concentric circles for 20 minutes looking for a parking spot, I was beginning to regret the effort I made to go out, when I could have been splayed braless on a sofa watching reruns of Friends.
If I hadn't found a parking spot I would have cancelled my date with myself. An all time humiliating low. I would have relegated the "all dressed up" part of my evening to a practice run for getting dressed for work in the morning.
But reminded that I was armed with a Poodle, I persevered into the streets teeming with couples.
As it turns out, a Poodle is a great guy magnet for gay men, and octogenarian Russian immigrants.
Convinced that this was not going to be a Prince Charming evening, I, Poodle in leash, determined that this was the perfect time to try out my fantasy of going to a pub by myself.
My dissociative plan involved posing as a business woman from America just getting some fresh evening air.
As my dog stopped to sniff urine on a street lamp, I realized that I didn't know any normal business women who travelled abroad with their dogs.
Plan A aborted, initiate Plan B: I went to a pub with an outside patio and tried not to think of Looking For Mr. Goodbar.
The whole experience was pretty painless. No one really cared that I was alone, and I was grateful for a cold beer and pretzels instead of yet another cup of coffee. In any case, the elderly woman with the pill box hat, taffeta fucshia cocktail dress and cleavage out to there was getting all of the glances.
Anyone know where I can get a more macho dog?
...........................................................
I moved from suburbia to the city so that I would have things to do when I was alone.
So, when I was feeling restless one hot summer night and I decided that an adorable Miniature French Poodle is as good a conversation starter as any, I put on my casual best, cleaned my dog's butt, and decided to take her for a walk in what passes for the center of activity around here.
After driving in concentric circles for 20 minutes looking for a parking spot, I was beginning to regret the effort I made to go out, when I could have been splayed braless on a sofa watching reruns of Friends.
If I hadn't found a parking spot I would have cancelled my date with myself. An all time humiliating low. I would have relegated the "all dressed up" part of my evening to a practice run for getting dressed for work in the morning.
But reminded that I was armed with a Poodle, I persevered into the streets teeming with couples.
As it turns out, a Poodle is a great guy magnet for gay men, and octogenarian Russian immigrants.
Convinced that this was not going to be a Prince Charming evening, I, Poodle in leash, determined that this was the perfect time to try out my fantasy of going to a pub by myself.
My dissociative plan involved posing as a business woman from America just getting some fresh evening air.
As my dog stopped to sniff urine on a street lamp, I realized that I didn't know any normal business women who travelled abroad with their dogs.
Plan A aborted, initiate Plan B: I went to a pub with an outside patio and tried not to think of Looking For Mr. Goodbar.
The whole experience was pretty painless. No one really cared that I was alone, and I was grateful for a cold beer and pretzels instead of yet another cup of coffee. In any case, the elderly woman with the pill box hat, taffeta fucshia cocktail dress and cleavage out to there was getting all of the glances.
Anyone know where I can get a more macho dog?
...........................................................
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)