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My misadventures on display for all to read.

Dating Chronicles 1 - Fang, the Chiropractor

Reminder: this is the original email post-date.

Fang, the Handsy Chiro. Source: Built by CatholicGelt

Hello Team Amazons!
I write you from the Marriott Hotel lobby at Kendall Square/MIT. Tonight marks the inaugural date for the How About We challenge that my small group in Boston set up for me. Yes, as Swedish Lief pointed out, my all women Bible study group paid for me to start dating. My assessment is that they are looking for very cheap entertainment and now it's time for the monkey to dance.

Meet Fang. According to his profile, he possesses an infatuation for Jewel. That really sold me off the bat, if selling means slightly gagging because you think Jewel is a tool. However, it says that he a is chiropractor and you all know how much I love young, male chiropractors who use their hands a lot (as Fang mentioned on our date). He actually showed intrigue for a date that I posted: How about we… find an arcade and play Big Buck Hunter. 

Instead, we went to a pool hall, played pool and ate BBQ. There was nothing awkward about Fang, at least in our hour and a half encounter. He hugged at the opening, smiled a lot, asked questions and made small talk. I lost all three games so I had to buy drinks and pay for pool. He bought dinner. However, when everything was going fine, as in, I didn't have to be physical or flirty, he went to show me a pool stroke. Yes, I had to bend over, and then he grabbed my right hip and pulled it in toward him. Then he began to playfully insult me, which meant his game got worse. Then he showed me another move that involved touching my hand. The entire time I kept wondering if that would happen. The wondering definitely got addressed. However, knowing me, this meant I acted more like a tomboy than a tomgirl, i.e. my voice dropped and I acted as if I were hanging out with one of the guys. Yeah, I am such a smooth operator.

Monk Francais exposes my inner agony in her Emmy winning performance as Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series.

On our way out, right before we parted ways, is where it gets really interesting. Consider the fact that he is built like a rugby playing bear, he goes in for a hug. He slams his body into mine and then moans. Yes, he moans. I could see my perplexed face as I had a momentary OBE (out of body experience). We held this hug for about ten seconds, which is the same amount of time it takes a tree to grow in Brooklyn, or it feels like forever for those lost in the analogy. While walking away, Fang says, "Let's do something again soon." I gestured for him to write me, as if typing on a keyboard. What? Yes, this was definitely an asexual encounter of the third kind. All in all, I would say that it was a positive experience since I felt comfortable for 95% of it.

Oh, and the guy who cancelled with the flu wrote me back.* We are going out on Monday. And Sunday I am going out with another man. More to come.

CatholicGelt

My ever seductive How About We profile photo.

My ever seductive How About We profile photo.

*I was supposed to go out on a date, but the guy claimed the flu. I had another date with a different hombre scheduled for that Friday and then a third for that weekend. I may have mastered other areas of my life, but I only possess a GED when it comes to men. That date in kindergarten probably doesn't count.

Let Me Show You A Few Things

show you a few things about love. - Justin Timberlake

It's been almost a year since posting and boy, do I have some surprises for you!

Many of my friends are in relationships, either with a spouse, significant other, pillow, or favorite cheese. I have almost always been single, unless you count that time when I was five years old and my Korean friend kissed me in the laundry closet. Honestly, I was at his birthday to eat as much kimchi as I could stand, but he clearly sought out a spicier dish. Now that I am of age, my friends are usually encouraging me to date online or in person, write Hugh Jackman, attend Meetups. Be anything but single. 

A group of these women, who I deemed the Amazons, decided it their duty to buy me a subscription to How About We. The premise of the online dating site is to propose an action and do it with the interested party. My friends insisted on writing my profile and since they were paying, a contract followed. Over the next couple of weeks, I will share the rules, what ensued, and responses to the email reflections I had to write. The men and Amazons will remain anonymous, but trust me, that won't make much of difference. 

Suited up for the job!

Suited up for the job!

Terms and Conditions for 6-month contract

CatholicGelt hereby agrees to the following in accordance with our 6 month gift subscription to How About We

  • 2.5 dates/month (15 dates total during the contract period)
  • Written report following each date sent to the email recipients included herein
  • No Facebook posts shall be made by anyone on this email list in regard to this contract or information provided in the written reports
  • CatholicGelt is required to use utmost discretion in her incorporation of date material in any stand-up routine
  • CatholicGelt is not permitted to share any content from these dates during the 6 month contract period or for 1 month following the 6 month contract period
  • Any changes to the profile must be approved by the signors of this contract and will take place only where three or more signors are present 
  • Other terms and conditions may be added at the discretion of its authors

Signed,

CatholicGelt

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Don't Look A Gift Horse In The Mouth

unless that's your mouth noshing on a gift horse.

When Swedish Lief moved in, we decided to take our first trip to IKEA, the land of plenty. We dressed in our finest attire. Swedish Lief wore a yellow soccer jersey from Sweden, while I adorned a Heineken t-shirt and white cowboy hat.

First stop: the IKEA cafeteria. We decided to sample all of the basics. Swedish Lief and I put sanity aside for the IKEA demi-gods, DINERA, ASKHOLMEN, nd FARTFULL. We found out that families repeatedly ate at IKEA since they can pay under $10/person for a massive tray of food. Wild to learn that horse meat could be so affordable.*

The IKEA Triple Crown. It's all fun and meatballs, until you find out you ate Hidalgo.

​Once we pownd the meatballs, we packed up the extras to begin our search for Swedish Lief's desk. After about twenty minutes of passing by a dozen fake rooms, I couldn't take it anymore. I seriously zoned out on a bed and Swedish Lief went off on her own. A few customers asked Swedish Lief for directions and price checks because her yellow soccer jersey and jeans matched the IKEA employee uniform. She told me that some of those same customers stared at me, thinking that I needed a store buddy since I had clearly lost my way.

Look, I would expect no less from any of you.  ​All I have to say is that when you are marching around a giant warehouse holding thirty minute old horse balls, you start losing your mind. The balls start to smell and no garbage can in sight is an actual can for garbage. They are props, people. It's all props! You won't find me saddling up to go to IKEA any time soon. I guarantee it!

That's better.​

*No horses were harmed in the making of this meal, or so we assume. The horse scare happened across the pond in February.

**If you would like a recipe for Apple Piebald, I suggest you find a real food recipe at Willow Bird Baking, an award winning food blogger and friend.

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Elvis, I Did It My Way

Back in college, I won the competition for best Elvis impersonator. And there was nothing sexy about it.

Some friends and I went costume shopping at Goodwill only a few days before the show. I found a jacket and the perfect pair of beige slacks. I grabbed the pants and ran into a stall. As I began putting the pants on, I saw remnants of a brown streak running down the inside of the crotch. My thoughts scattered - 

This isn't shit, right? Should I wear them? I could wear them as a second pair of pants. I love these pants. What would Elvis do? It has to be shit. I so wanna win! I am wearing these pants.

I stepped out of the stall to show off the pants which my friends thought looked great! That's when I confessed I couldn't decide on whether I should buy them or not, since they had been soiled by the previous owner. Disgusted, my friends rejected the pants. And with a heavy head, I went home with a less fashionable pair.

Over the next two days, I practiced singing any Elvis hit I could listen to online. Blue Suede Shoes, Jailhouse Rock, Return to Sender. Elvis, resurrected in my dorm room, consumed me day and night. My suspicious mind could think of nothing else but the looming competition.

My hall-mates dressed up in makeshift 1950's sock hop attire, styled my hair and escorted me to the Student Union. When we got inside, I noticed I was the only female competitor. Once I joined the band on stage, they started performing an Elvis song I had not practiced. Instead, I vigorously shook my hips, waved my arms, and yelled,

Uh huh. Uhhhh, yeahuhhhh. All shook up!

I kept doing this until someone told me to get off stage.

Lord Almighty!

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Tally's Hookers to the Rescue

Last weekend, Monk Francais visited me and Swedish Lief for a three day trip to Montreal. That trip came to a grinding halt in Gloucester, MA, less than 100 miles from home and within AAA free towing limits.

 

It all began with a late brunch stop over in Newburyport. Swedish Lief witnessed our mixologist pour the vodka for a hefty four seconds before adding the blood orange to my cosmo. Efficient and ideal for a one drink wonder, such as myself. 

After exploring Newburyport, we made our way to the next seaside town. In route, Monk Francais heard a loud grinding near the front, right tire. Playing with death, Swedish Lief violently pumped the breaks three times. That's when the breaks went out completely.

Car still in working order.

Tally's Hookers is a tow truck company that can lift submarines, railway cars, or construction equipment, making our situation look like a first grader's math problem. 

Andrew, our knight in a hoodie sweatshirt, drove the car onto the tow truck, and then the sixty miles to our Boston mechanic.

We rolled into a cell phone dead zone somewhere in Gloucester. Frantically, we divided tasks and tried to find reception. I called the mechanics in Boston. Swedish Lief phoned AAA. Monk Francais researched our next meal. In less than thirty minutes, Tally's Hookers arrived. 

Not an actual reenactment.

Thank the heavens we were only a five minute walk from Halibut Point's oysters and beer, where they charged Swedish Lief $516 for dinner. Any good Jewish Catholic knows an evening spent with Hookers ought to be followed by overpriced shellfish and ale.