[The Listserve] My Other Left Breast. Or a Reason to Meet in Chicago Over Cheese

“This is an e-mail lottery. One person a day wins a chance to write to the growing list of subscribers. It could be you.”

— thelistserve.com

---

It's not often the average person gets a second chance at winning. Well, I guess I am no longer average. Because this is the second time that I have won the drawing for the Listserve.

The last time I heard from Zena Koo, I was in NYC on holiday in 2015 when I wrote about being single and accidentally exposing myself to the guy that took me to a pool hall for an online date. I received an overwhelming amount of responses, from men, women. Single. Dating. Near and far. I even received offers for dates. On Skype. In person. Via email. Then there were the people who asked me to write guest posts on their blogs. And those that wrote email exchanges lasted for days at a time. It was a joy to read other stories from people, but then I got too busy. Busy with the New Year. Busy with the rest of my life. Graduate school started again, deprioritizing anything beyond a hundred mile radius. I didn't make time to update my blog. Didn't add the new subscribers from the Listserve readership who requested updates about my life. Readers were gracious enough to visit my blog. Thousands of views on my site dropped to dozens. An opportunity lost to share more comedy, to nurture new relationships, and to potentially fall in. Out. And back into love.

Over the last twenty months, I thought about how I had potentially squandered something great. How I had not done enough to keep a unique experience alive. I thought about it in the shower. On a trip I had taken this summer to Southeast Asia, Africa, Europe and Iceland. There were many new unique moments, like thinking I would die from being stung by a jellyfish in the Philippines, skimming my knee in Myanmar on my first ever motorbike ride, staring at hot Irish guys with man buns, and looking for remnants of Thor in glaciers and cliffs. Despite all of that, I still daydreamed about what if I the Listserve to do all over again. What would I have done?

With that, I propose a challenge. MEET ME AND MY COVERED BOSOMS IN CHICAGO for the Grate Cheese Caper of 2016. A picnic where we feast on cheese. If you don't eat cheese, bring fancy crackers, If you don't eat crackers, bring wine. And if you don't consume any of those delicious treats, we may have to have a soul reflection together where I better understand your hesitation for joy and grateness. In the meantime, grab your blanket and head to the destination below. Rain or shine.

ADDRESS:  Waveland Picnic Field, Chicago, IL 60613
GPS COORDINATES: 41.951474, -87.640569
DATE: Saturday, September 10th, 2016
TIME: 1:00pm - 3:00pm CST
HASHTAG: #gratecheesecaper2016

Perhaps I will be fortunate enough to spend this second chance with you. I sure do hope so.

Living a life full of gratitude, cheese, and flimsy breasts.

Meesh
catholicgelt[AT]gmail.com
Chicago, IL

 

Dating Chronicles 7: DJ Matt and My Left Breast

View fullsize

Not so handsy, there goes the hands. Source: Built by CatholicGelt

Final online dating post from previous expeditions.

I write you from a dwindling state of tipsiness and a break from How About We. I pulled a temporary plug on the dating website because I wasn't having much fun seeing the same odd profiles over and over again. Really, you dudes need to make your profile photo a pair of shoes, a banana, or an 85 year young woman? Siphoning through profiles felt stale and I swear I began seeing people from the site while walking around town. After the two month hiatus, I decided I would give it one more go.

Matt listed Muppet Treasure Island as his most watched movie so why not see if he were a muppet or a man? Back to the pool hall we went. Matt shared that he volunteers as a DJ for a local radio station while tending bar at a BBQ joint in my neighborhood. We spoke casually and he did not insist on teaching me how to play pool by grabbing my hand or hip. Already bonus points given my previous experience. I played a measly first game and managed to yell, "I love not getting balls in holes!" On any other night, this would have been accompanied by a "that's what she said" but I looked down and noticed my left breast hanging out of my bra. 

You see, I wore tight jeans and a decorative white top, but didn't realize that when I was bending over to shoot pool, my left breast kept falling out of my bra. Freeing itself from its cloth cage and creating a third middle breast. Who needs twins when you can have triplets! I was horrified. Every few minutes, I would walk over to the wall, sip some Magners and adjust myself in what I would like to call the nip and tuck. Sink the nine ball. "Oh, you graduated with a degree in journalism. I studied English down south." Look down. Nip and tuck. Prematurely sink the eight ball. "What did you think of Seattle when you visited?" Look down. Nip and tuck. Note to self, Victoria sucks at keeping a Secret.

Surprisingly, I don't think Matt realized what was going on because he seemed pretty focused on the game. After our third round, we sat down for a few minutes to finish our drinks. At this point, I saw Matt blatantly staring at my triplets and I decided to throw on my fleece. We finished up our date and before parting ways, he asked me on a second date. Go figure.

------

I love a good story so don't be shy. Send me your embarrassing dates.

With that, I wish you a happy New Year. May it be not be a total bust!

Dating Chronicle 6 - Life Out of Order

View fullsize

Dapper fellow. Source: Built by CatholicGelt

This week, I visited friends in Houston and on my return home, saw a gorgeous speciMAN. I really wanted to ask him out but was too afraid of being a creep, invasive, or <insert any other word that involves asking a stranger on a plane, train, or bus out on a date>. While completing my oral hygiene cycle (you must floss, brush, and rinse for you only get one mouth), I decide to post my affection online. I wrote a Craigslist Missed Connections.

For those keeping track, I will post Dating Chronicle 5 shortly and take you back to when a new date got a little more than he bargained for while out on the town with me. In the meantime, I will share any squirmy, delicious, or absurd responses I get from Craigslist. Here's to being slightly uncomfortable, and totally out there. And wondering why I used the word delicious.

View fullsize

Waiting to hear from my Craigslist cupid.

Fugly Doodle Friday - Prozzie Pengs (Guest)

Whimsy Mimmsy from Leemar doodled me this last month. Her inspiration comes from the female prostituting penguins. Yes, that's a thing. 

Mimmsy and I minced words as I thought it a crime and she, a feminist victory.

View fullsize

Feminist Icon or Haughty Criminal?

Let the record show that I do not condone prostitution in any animal form nor under any guise, be it rock collecting, pleasure seeking, nest testing, etc.

Dating Chronicles 4 - Normal in Chicago

View fullsize

Jefe, neither balding nor a bowling pirate. Source: Built by CatholicGelt

A few of you made a bet that I would meet a nice guy in Chicago. I'm not one to drag things out so I will just cut to the chase: I had a nice hard apple cider and a three hour conversation with Jefe, a car crash survivor. The normal men I meet are naturally men who overcome great tragedies. It's truly applicable to all the other "normal" in my life. 

Jefe recently moved back to Chicago from NC, by way of Atlanta. He attended Wake Forest where he earned his degrees in accounting. His date idea: Go to the Art Institute and do some of the crafts for kids? Last time I was there they were making hats and I really wanted one! Seriously, is this guy for real? He loves the Talking Heads, has seen David Byrne in concert and thinks Naive Melody is their best song. For real! We walked around the Navy Pier instead since the museum had closed for the day. 

Before we began anything, he escorted me over to an area where a DJ played hip hop music for seven year olds. This had thoroughly entertained Jefe while I was running late and he insisted on showing me. I almost asked if he wanted to dance, but I didn't have the frijoles to do so. I immediately told him I was visiting Chicago to attend classes at Second City and to go to a music festival with friends (yeah, BWS). I can't have men hopelessly falling in love with me and soon finding out that I have ditched them for another city.

Then I noticed that he had a tracheotomy. Using what little filter I have, I did not point it out or stare at it (you are welcome, Enforcer). He ended up talking about how he basically spent the last two years recovering from a car accident where no one else was involved. He had lain in a coma for two weeks, not able to remember how he drove into a tree. When his mother visited him in the hospital, his first smile came from her offer to get Jefe a dog. He started tearing up while telling the story. Or, it was the result of his gin and tonics. I can't really be sure. We talked about movies, music, his next career move and books. He reads. What? Yes, I said he reads. Although amazing male authors abound, I often forget that men read. It's ridiculous and I am not sure where it comes from since I have a degree in English and my advisor was (still is) male. Oh, me!

After about three hours, I told him I had to go home to have dinner. I couldn't think of other questions to ask and he had already ordered two drinks and kept covering his face with his hands when I would tell him something funny or shocking. He said he had a nice time and we hugged one another goodbye. Of course, a man that doesn't make moaning sounds when slamming his body into mine lives in the mid-west. Of course! And I was referring to a hug. You are better than that, my people!