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I am a baseball girl. I know I've said this about a thousand times before but it's the cold, hard truth. Sure, I'll watch the SuperBowl but I'm only watching for the commercials and Drew Brees (omg, baby Brees - cutest moment in football history!!!) Frankly, I find basketball boring and hockey is a little too fast paced for me. I love that baseball balances out the extremely exciting moments with plenty of time to eat a hot pretzel. It's not a sport full of violence so girls don't get grossed out during play. The rules are fairly simple to understand. And then there are the uniforms...

But I digress.

Point of the story is that when a boy messages me about missing Shea Stadium, I (as a Mets fan) completely connect to what he's saying and we hit it off immediately. Now, I realize that I just lost half of my audience by admitting to being a Mets fan but let me say for the record that I root for BOTH New York teams when they are playing. I love the Yankees as much as the next person. It's just that I have a soft spot in my heart for the underdog, the little guy, the dark horse, in other words: the Mets.

This boy and I have comparable predicaments. We both come from families where our parents and siblings are Yankee fans and do not understand our compassion for a losing team. Why on Earth hold on to the belief that we may, possibly, one day, not totally SUCK for an entire season? Well, as Tug said, Ya Gotta Believe. That's our motto. It's gotten me through life as a Mets fan and now through post-divorce dating. I know that I may have struck out the last few (82) times at bat. But I believe that this time up is my time to shine. It's my ball game. I might head into extra innings but I'll go there with a heart open to the possibility that today, I will win!

Why am I telling you all of this baseball imitates life philosophy? Because this boy I've been messaging...it's all he talks about! Like I said, I'm cool talking about sports, at least more than most girls. But come on! I'm still a girl!!! Honestly, the Giants score from two Sundays ago does not affect my life in any way. The play-by-play of the 1987 division league, game 6, 10th inning is not in my trove of useless facts and information. Mostly because I just don't care. Is it time to go shopping now?

Which is how I know I'm in trouble when all Mets fan wants to do is talk sports. I now know his bowling league average, which Devils games he has tickets to this hockey season, and the Giants standings in the NFL but I couldn't tell you his last name, his hobbies, or what he does for a living. This is going to be one very interesting date!

The first time we talk on the phone, I discover that he (like me) is a fan of country music. If I haven't just lost the other half of my audience, you'll note that (just like the Mets fans) we are a dying breed in NYC. I am thrilled to find we have another passion in common. We talk about our favorite stars of country music, which concerts we've both attended, how many times he's gone to Nashville. I'm just about getting excited to meet him when he tells me he has to cancel the date we had planned. His mom left him a "Sonny - Do" list which I'm assuming is similar to a "Honey - Do" list those of you with husbands have hanging around.

Seriously? You can't go out with me cause mommy gave you a list of chores? Wow, dude. Grow a backbone!

Alright, I know I'm being harsh on him but sad is the plight of the grown-up child who depends on their parents for a roof over their heads. Several of us have had to return to our adolescent homes post - divorce, post - job loss, post - economic crash. I'm right there with you and I get it. But my parents have never told me I can't go out on a date because I have to clean my room or fold the laundry or vacuum. His mom made him re-shingle the roof the weekend of our rendez-vous. Ridiculous!

Attempt at dating, Round Two: he gets tickets to the Mets game from a friend in his bowling league. I'm super psyched to go but the game is three weeks away! I suggest meeting up for coffee beforehand just to get to know each other but the scheduling just never works out and we wind up after a rain out with eight hours of a double header at the ball park as our first date! Holy scariness, Batman.

I decide that we'd be better off skipping the first half of Game 1 and just meeting at the train station when he gets home from work. He almost missed the train because his mother (again with her) sent him on errands and threw a shit fit when he told her he wouldn't be home to make dinner. Talk about indentured servitude!!! I had invited him out to lunch before the game but he said that first dates make him so nervous, he'd do better not eating at all during the day for fear of anxiety plus a weak stomach acting up on him. Yeah, I've already had one guy puke on a date so I'd rather not risk a repeat of that performance!

At last, I arrive and hug him hello. He seems perfectly normal (I always say that, don't I?) We ride the train to Citifield together and in that hour, he regales me with stories from his Star Trek convention days and the time he spent in Vegas at Star Trek: The Experience. Ho. Ly. Crap. Most people go to Vegas for strippers, shows and slot machines, not to mention copious amounts of liquor. He was there on New Year's Eve and wound up as the designated driver because he doesn't drink. At all. This is a Klingon nightmare.

What is it about me that screams "Nerds wanted!!!" Honestly, every boy within a hundred mile radius who has a hard on for Dungeons & Dragons, World of Warcraft, Heroes & Villains, Star Wars, and Star Trek manages to flock to me like geeks to ComicCon. I don't know what sort of Legend of Zelda / Xena, Warrior Princess vibes I am giving off here but I don't think I can take too much more of GeekFest 2010. I'm sorry, I know that nerds need love too. But sitting at home watching MythBusters on a Friday night is not getting you laid. You're single because you say things like "I can curse in several alien languages" and "Don't worry, sometimes I dress like a human." There is no way you're getting lucky by tuning in to Futurama! I really hate to break it to the nerds, dorks and geeks of this world but a degree in computer science is not a turn on to members of the opposite sex!

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Where was I?

Oh, right, I was up to the part where my date tells me that he'd like to have children someday but he doesn't want to give them standard, boring names like his own. He'd rather name his kid something like Tiberius. For those of you non-Trekkies, Tiberius is Captain Kirk's middle name. No, seriously. Do you want your child growing up with Captain Kirk's middle name??? I wouldn't want to be that kid trying to survive kindergarten! Let alone junior high. Why don't you just send him to school with a sign on his back that says "Please flush my head down the toilet!" It's the newest form of childhood cruelty. But it doesn't stop there. He actually has a book of science fiction inspired baby names. I think I'll stick with Chris and Emily, but thanks anyway!

Once we're at the game (and the lesson in Trekkie history has ended) I am positively starving. I decide on a hot pretzel before I spot the zeppole cart. If you aren't Italian and / or don't live in New York and / or don't have a street fair near you, you just might be missing out on some of the best food ever invented. First of all, there's dough. Second, the dough gets fried. Finally, the hot, fried dough is doused in powdered sugar. Can you think of a more delicious creation? Sure, they're golf-ball sized heart attacks in a bag. But that's half the fun of eating them! The other half is trying not to choke on the powdered sugar as you inhale your dessert. Lesson: Never breathe in while eating zeppoles. Never.

Alas, I sit with my pretzel and we enjoy the end of the first game. By "enjoy" I mean that we cheer for a losing team who was winning until their relief pitcher gave up the lead. Big surprise. When we get up again to walk around the stadium, he points out all the cool moments in Mets history, the retired numbers, the players' jerseys, the remnants left of Shea. We grab a couple of bottled waters and head back to our seats for the second game. When Ike Davis gets up to bat, I say "that's my baseball boyfriend." Mets guy looks at me and says "Oh, like in that episode of FRIENDS where they list five celebrities they're both allowed to sleep with?" Yes, exactly like that! And since I know you're wondering, here is the rest of my list:

My baseball boyfriend: Ike Davis

My music boyfriend: Michael Buble

My cooking boyfriend: Guy Fieri

My TV boyfriend: Matt Bomer

My Movie boyfriend: Orlando Bloom

*It used to be Heath Ledger, RIP*

My overall boyfriend whom I would trade in the other five for: Christian Bale. He's hot in Batman (love a man in a vinyl suit) but I actually fell in love with him in Newsies circa 1993. Yes, the one with Doogie Howser's little buddy in it. Coincidentally, that same kid was also in 10 Things I Hate About You with Heath Ledger. Are we sensing a theme here?

Point being, I ask him who's on his list and he says he doesn't have one. Bull shit. Everyone has a list. I even make suggestions and he doesn't bite at a single one of them. He just doesn't have a list. Wow, ok. How about a fantasy? There's got to be someone (other than Princess Leia in the gold bikini --- also a FRIENDS reference) that turns him on. Nope, no fantasies.

It is at this point in time that I ever so gently ask if sex has been a part of his life. He shakes his head no. Wow. Did not see that coming. Partly cause I was half kidding and partly cause he's 32 and it's just very surprising! His longest relationship only lasted 5 months. He tells me that in the beginning, it was a conscious, moral decision that he thought he wanted to wait until marriage but recently, there just haven't been any opportunities. No girlfriend, no chance at sex.

I refrain from laughing. I refrain from making snide comments. I refrain from running away screaming. Instead, I spend the evening trying to get to know this man because I am genuinely interested and I do not try to figure out what the hell is wrong with him because it's not a matter of "wrong." He's kind and considerate and funny and smart and has cloudy blue eyes I can't quite read. Yes, he has a nervous stomach which means he is not eating on tonight's date. Yes, he wants to name his future kids after Star Trek characters. Yes, his mother leaves him lists of chores to do thus canceling our dates. And yes, he's a 32 year old virgin. But when he got home that night, he texted me to say that he was sorry I hadn't gotten any zeppoles at the baseball game but there is a street fair setting up at the train station. He'd love to take me if I'd like to go. He owes me fried dough covered in sugar. Now that's what I call sweet!

Copyright Kimberly Spice 2010

Message Me If...

Dear Kimberly,

You asked what our first date would be like: Here's what I envision...

Moments after we meet, you'll feel the unmistakable urge to run home, pull that lovingly-worn Hello Kitty diary from out beneath your mattress, and furiously put ink to paper. You'll initially choose the word "cute" to describe me, but then scratch it out and go with "handsome" instead. You'll mention how I'm equal parts intelligent and funny, and more than a little bit charming. You'll reproduce, word-for-word, our brief conversation, and then realize (for the second time that day) that our exchange had the kind of breezy chemistry only found in the trailers to one of those coming-soon-to-a-theater-near- you high concept romantic comedies. When you're done writing, you'll clutch your diary and giggle a little bit. And then you'll look out your window and notice that giant rainbow that just appeared in the sky. Awesome!

You should want to get to know me better only if you are The Coolest Girl In Town. You nimbly walk the line separating style from vanity. You're well-versed in the fine art of exchanging knowing glances across a crowded room. You understand the difference between sarcasm and wit, and deftly navigate between irony and sincerity. You get bonus points if you can play an instrument. (Points are subtracted, however, for admitting participation in an a cappella group...) If you are a regular watcher of Fox News, I'm sorry -- we have no future.

I'm seek someone nice and looking for friendship, a long-term relationship, long-distance penpal, an activity partner, short-term relationship, or casual sex. Until I meet the right woman, I don't mind going wild.

So what do you think? Should we meet for coffee?

~Brian NYC

Shit That Makes Me Crazy

The following message was copied and pasted from my online activity last night. It does not bode well for the menfolk who simply refuse to evolve. Here is my issue: men claim not to know what women want. Women are not the complicated algorithms men perceive us to be. We pretty much tell you everything we need and it's just up to you to listen. Can we be cryptic? Occasionally, of course. But I'm talking about when we sit there and SPELL IT OUT for you and you STILL don't pay attention. When we specifically ask (or, most often) tell you how to make us happy and you still sit there, bitching, whining, moaning and complaining that your woman makes no sense. Listen to me, men! I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Are you paying close attention? No, of course you're not but I'll tell you anyway. When your wife kindly asks you to take out the recycling on Tuesdays and you tell her she'll need to remind you again ON Tuesday, that is NOT being helpful and co-operative. You should know what day of the week it is. There are only seven of them to choose from and chances are you at least recognize which two comprise the weekend which narrows it down greatly. You almost definitely know Friday from Monday which leaves three days you can pick from. You've got a 33% chance of getting it right so GO FOR IT. Throw those plastics, metals, glass and newspaper out to the curb without your woman reminding you! She'll be grateful she doesn't have to treat you like a child and you'll be grateful she stopped "nagging" you to take the stupid recyclables out because you've already done it! It's a win / win!!!

The same goes for couples who are dating and perhaps not up to fighting over domestic chores but still in the getting to know you phase. I have been in enough relationships by now to know what I want, what I don't want and what drives me absolutely crazy! There are certain things that I'm willing to settle for and others that make me want to punch you in the head. I will admit that this is a two way street and am willing to listen to your cares, concerns, wants and needs as well. But when I tell you that THIS (insert pet peeve here) makes me insane and you continue to do (aforementioned obnoxious activity) please do not be surprised when I walk away! You brought it on yourself.

Exhibit A)

Smiley:hi

kimberlyspice:hi

Smiley:how r u

kimberlyspice:fine

Smiley:great

Smiley:what r u up 2 tonight

kimberlyspice:writing to you

Smiley:awww soo u pretty bored 2

kimberlyspice:no, i'm tired and need to go to bed

Smiley:awww ok

kimberlyspice:just waiting for the mint tea to kick in

Smiley:aww

kimberlyspice:can i be really picky for a minute?

Smiley:sure

Smiley:whats up

kimberlyspice:saying u instead of you seems like such a silly thing but girls REALLY appreciate when you don't abbreviate. it's the simplest little form of etiquette but it means a lot to us :-)

Smiley:oh i do apologize

kimberlyspice:no apology necessary

kimberlyspice:you didn't do anything wrong

Smiley:o ok thanx

kimberlyspice:it's just that guys don't always know what women want. felt like sharing a little insider secret with you

Smiley: sure definately

kimberlyspice:just to better your chances :-)

Smiley:thanx

Smiley:yes definately

kimberlyspice:same with thanks vs thanx

kimberlyspice:i know it's silly but every single woman i know says that it makes her crazy

Smiley:oooo thank u 4 the tip

kimberlyspice:you're welcome. i know it's hard out there

Smiley:it is hard

kimberlyspice:well silly as it may seem, spelling and grammar will get you into a girl's good graces pretty quickly

kimberlyspice:you'd be amazed at some of the awful messages we receive

kimberlyspice:politeness and proper english win you major bonus points!

Smiley: definately but i will change that

Smiley:are u looking 4 a man

kimberlyspice:as opposed to a woman? :-)

Smiley:no r u looking 2 date

kimberlyspice:yeah, i guess you could say that

Smiley:that is great

kimberlyspice:why is that great?

Smiley:bc we are both single

kimberlyspice:so are millions of other people, hence these sites are so popular!

Smiley:that is soo true

kimberlyspice:and why are you single?

Smiley:i havent met anyone substansial

Alright men, I'm gonna break it down for you. Here are the Top Eight reasons why this conversation SUCKED:

1) "hi" is a generic statement. It does not elicit any particular response nor does it show that you have even a hint of personality or creativity. I don't care what you say but make a statement!

2) "how are you" is a generic question. There are about a thousand things you can ask someone when first getting to know them that will lead you into an interesting, enlightening and fun conversation. This is possibly the worst opener ever.

3) "what's up" is the same bull shit as "how are you" because it means NOTHING. If you only have my attention for five minutes, is this really what you're going to start out with? I've already lost interest. There are hundreds upon hundreds of profiles online. Do something to make yours stand out. Same with initial greetings.

4) It's are, not r. To / too, not 2. You, not u. And for, not 4. What r u up 2? is not coherent English. If you can't be bothered to spell out a three letter word then I can't be bothered wasting energy and effort on you either.

5) Be polite and have some manners. I'm sure that your mother taught you not to speak with your mouth full and keep your elbows off the table. Would she be pleased to know that a dozen lines into a conversation with a woman you still haven't introduced yourself properly by name? It seems a bit rude when trying to get to know someone you may potentially date in the future if you only know to refer to them as bootylover_2000. Can you imagine bringing that gem home to your parents? "Mom, Dad, I'd like to you meet my boyfriend LuvDaBush." I think not. How about we just call him Bob?

6) Spelling and grammar count people. I'm sorry to say it, but it's true. The first time you meet someone in person, you glean their level of intelligence, sense of humor and distinct personality from the way they speak. Wouldn't you want to present yourself as the most highly educated, confident, funny, sexy being that you are? Well the same is true for online dating. First impressions are lasting impressions so if I see that you're constantly taking shortcuts and misspelling words on a third grade reading level, I'm going to assume you're an idiot and I will continue my search for love elsewhere.

7) When a woman confesses to you something that drives her bonkers and you continue to repeat that action anyway, it is a sign of either disrespect or ignorance. Possibly both. Unless you want us thinking that you really are just that stupid and don't care enough to listen to our wishes, I'd suggest taking note when a woman is kind enough to point out how you can score more points with her. Most women would list "considerate" on their top ten list of highly desirable qualities in a mate. This means you!!!

8) Ask me about something personal, something unique, something special. Make me feel like you took two minutes out of your life to NOTICE something about me and only me. Let me know that you want to be talking to me because you find something about me interesting and not just because I have female anatomy.

Gentlemen, I hope that you've learned something here. If you have skipped ahead to the end of the blog, I'll recap with the Cliff's Notes version for you:

First impressions are lasting impressions. Make a good one.

Listen, pay attention and take notice of a woman when she's communicating something to you. You might be surprised at what you can learn.

Be polite, friendly, and use good manners. In an age of short cuts and inconsideration, the simplest gestures can mean the difference between her taking an interest in you or not.

Spell check people!!!

And finally, the recyclables go out on Tuesdays. *

*Please note: garbage night varies by town. Check your local listings for trash times near you!*

Copyright Kimberly Spice 2010

The Men in My Life

Someone recently asked me: What were you like during all those years of marriage? I shouldn't think that I was too different from how I am right now. My ex-husband might disagree with that statement, but that's why we're divorced now, isn't it? The fact is that he's one of the many men in my life who has shaped me, my ideas of love and the woman I am today. Truth be told though, he wasn't the only one. There were many people who came before him and several after, all of whom have been influential to my thinking.

Exhibit A) My father. I have never met a more hard working, dedicated, loyal man than my father. He is the definition of a good provider, protective, strong, dependable, generous and kind. He loves my mother and I (and my brother too) with such an intense, fierce, passionate spirit that I swear he wouldn't just take a bullet for me. He'd stop that bullet dead in its tracks like Superman with an oncoming train. My dad's heart is overflowing with pride and although he is not an outwardly emotional man, nor known for often verbally expressing sentiment (so unlike the daughter he raised...) he feels things deeper than I'd wager the majority of the rest of us do. Every night, my father kisses my mother before dinner and thanks her for a wonderful meal, whether it's a holiday feast or if she just ordered pizza. He holds doors open for her and for me. He still calls her his bride and they'll be celebrating 37 years of marriage this winter. His example to me is that there are men out there who will not break your heart, who will be faithful, loyal and devoted to their wives until their dying breath, who would go to the ends of the Earth for the people they love and who will protect and provide for their families with every fiber of their being.

Exhibit B) My grandfather. I wasn't fortunate enough to know him for very long as he passed away when I was six years old. The few memories I have of my dad's dad are interlinked with the stories that have been passed on through my parents. He is the root of my Italian heritage, my attitude and my appetite. From him I learned that tomato gardens are God's way of smiling at us, meatballs and pasta are the perfect meal, and babies don't stay little for long. Kiss their teeny tiny toes while you still can.

Exhibit C) My Poppo. Growing up, I only saw him on Sundays in church and then back at the house for bagels. He had the same routine each week, eating his bran muffin and stirring honey into his coffee. When I was living in Europe, I called home at exactly the moment I knew he'd be sitting down to brunch with my mother and I could almost smell the sesame seeds through the phone. I often hung back and watched the little dance he and my mother would do without fail while walking from church service to their cars. She'd step onto the sidewalk and he'd head to the street side of her. No matter how close my mother was to the curb, my Poppo would try to get the outer edge on her. From him I have learned that gentlemen always treat a woman like a lady. Had there been a puddle, I am certain he would've thrown a trench coat over it to protect her delicate feet.

Exhibit D) My brother. It was recently witnessed by several hundred people that I caught the bouquet at my cousin's wedding. This was all in good fun until my brother caught the garter. The DJ asked my cousin to throw it again. My brother jumped even higher and caught it a second time. The DJ asked my cousin to throw it yet again. My brother body checked two guys out of the way, landed on a small child and dove under a table to retrieve the garter a third time. It was quite the commotion. Why did he do this, you ask? It's not because we have some freaky Alabama relationship so get your mind out of the gutter. He just didn't want any other guys going up my skirt to put the garter on me. His attitude was that if he caught it himself, everyone else would keep their hands off his sister. There is video of the entire incident and honestly, it was one of the funniest things I've ever been part of in my life. That being said, if you can get over the ick factor, there's an inherent sweetness to what he did for me. My brother is all about honor, integrity and respect and I love him for it. (Still, not in a creepy Alabama way though. No offense, Southerners!)

Ahhh, and now for the boyfriends. Are you ready folks? Let's see who makes the short list!

I am going to seriously narrow it down here and list the four most influential boys that I've dated. I say boys because honestly, none of them were old enough / mature enough to be called men at the point that I dated them. (Some of them still wouldn't earn the title now!) Here goes:

Boyfriend #1: My first love. I was fifteen years old when we met and I suddenly understood what Shakespeare was talking about. All that nonsense written in Olde English instantly clicked in my head and I began thinking in iambic pentameter. The trouble was that he lived four hours away and being fifteen years old, neither of us could drive. We were left at the mercy of our parents taking us across state lines and I only saw him in person a handful of times. That didn't matter to us though. We wrote letters just about every day and talked on the phone whenever possible. I actually had to get a part time job to pay my mom back for use of the long distance plan! Granted, I earned $4 an hour and I'm relatively certain that our calls cost more than that but we were so in love that nothing else mattered. He introduced me to the exciting and energizing experience of falling in love for the first time. Sadly, he also introduced me to the worst heartbreak of my young life when he stood me up for the prom. I had turned down literally dozens of offers from guys who wanted to accompany me to the most important dance of a girl's life but I knew he'd come through for me. I knew he would. And then...he didn't. Sad to say that this Cinderella was left without a prince on prom night and spent most of the evening sobbing hysterically in the ladies room. My mom found me a last minute back up date but it wasn't the same. I wanted my Romeo, my one and only true love, the man for whom all love letters and sonnets and poems were written. The stuff of 80's power ballads and John Hughes movies. From him I learned that what's meant to be will be and what's not will leave a lasting impression on your heart forever.

Boyfriend #2: My college sweetheart. I often tell the story of the boy who saw me getting off the bus on a field trip one day and asked me for a quarter. This was the age before cell phones, mind you, so at my father's insistence, I never left home without fifty cents in my sock. I handed him the quarter and he replied "Thanks. My mom told me to call home the moment I met the girl of my dreams." Insert gag reflex here. We sat next to each other during Titanic the musical (if you can believe someone ever produced such a thing) and he held my hand as the ship went down. The next night, he called my dorm room and asked if I wanted to come over and watch Casablanca. We kissed and that sealed the deal. He was my boyfriend for the next two years. Who knew twenty-five cents was really so valuable? The thing about him was that he was (is) a genuinely good guy. He's not perfect by any means (neither am I) but he was just such a good person. I think that being with him actually made me a better person. He was kind, caring, considerate, sweet, thoughtful and romantic. We eventually broke up for a multitude of reasons but he's one of those ex'es I can talk to on facebook and not feel any resentment towards. Proof that good guys do not necessarily finish last.

Boyfriend #3 / Husband #1: This one is hard for me to talk about because normally once you're divorced, the only stuff you can remember is the bad stuff. The days when I worked fourteen hours and he sat home with his PlayStation and then asked ME what was for dinner. The times that he stayed out drinking all night instead of coming home to bed with his wife. While I acknowledge those moments that eventually led to our demise, they weren't always the case. We fell in love for good reasons and stayed there for as long as possible. Until one day, we weren't anymore. I was twenty years old when I met him and we were unofficially engaged six weeks after. He formally proposed with a ring and my parents' blessing after eight months and one short year later, we were married. Of course, if my twenty year old daughter ever comes up to me and says she wants to get married, I will smack her upside the head, lock her in a tower and cut off her hair. Oh if only I knew then what I know now. Right, right, that old country song. Still, if I told you about the boy who wrote guitar solos for me, built a bed for us to sleep on, sang to me until I fell asleep, always let me have the last piece of dessert, and said the most entrancing things like "I can see our future children in your eyes," you woulda fallen for him too. Oh, plus there was the English accent and dark, brown, chocolatey eyes. His jet black Beatles hair flopped around his face in such an endearing way that I couldn't help but love him. What I learned there is that if you're not careful, if you don't talk everyday, if you're not both fully present in your relationship, then love is not enough. You have to be willing to work at it constantly, to put in the effort time and time again, to make your bond together a priority above all else. If you don't, no one else will.

Boyfriend #4: The one who came after my marriage. It shames me here to admit that there wasn't as much time between separating from my husband and jumping into a new relationship as there should have been. I know now that being single for a while in between is a blessing, not a curse. Yet it had been so long since I felt wanted, felt desired, felt needed, felt special, felt anything that when this man whom I'd been friends with all my life professed his undying love for me, I could not stop myself from falling straight into his arms. It was exactly what I thought I needed at the time, and precisely the wrong thing to do. We had an amazing romantic connection unlike anything I'd ever experienced before but it ruined our friendship instead of strengthening it and if I had it all to do over again, I'm not so sure I would. He paid more attention to me than my husband ever had. He was generous to me and gave me everything I could ever think to ask for (and so much more that I never even dreamed of.) He was absolutely taken with me and I wonder now how much of our relationship was me being in love with him versus me being in love with the idea of being in love. I so desperately did not want to be a failure at anything and coming off of a divorce made me feel like a failure. Therefore, when my relationship with him started to tank, I ignored all the signs and warnings that came my way. I simply didn't want to see anything that could possibly cause us to crumble because there was no way I could handle another failed relationship. Anais Nin said "That which I cannot love, I overlook" and this became my mantra. I still wish that he and I could be friendly with each other or at the very least civil but I know that would be asking too much. So the most recent lesson that I have learned is that it is better to be single than be with the wrong person.

And that's where we are today.

Copyright Kimberly Spice 2010

The Accidental Date

I was sitting in Barnes & Noble writing this blog as per usual when I noticed a very cute boy sitting at the table next to me. He was elbow deep in textbooks and had that furrowed look on his brow intimating that he was concentrating quite hard on his reading. Not wanting to distract him from his obviously important studies, I waited until he'd gotten up to grab a cup of coffee from the Cafe before smiling his way. He smiled back!!! When he sat down again, I casually asked if there was a plug under his table. Not the sexiest question I could've thought of, I'm sure, but a very practical one. I have a Mac that loses battery power at exponential speed thereby rendering me useless if I am not plugged in. Y'all wanna read? I need an outlet nearby!

Point of the story is that I had to move chairs towards the outlet and away from the intelligent, successful, handsome future father of my children. As cartoon villains would say "Drats! Foiled again!" I finished what writing I could get done in peace while some yahoo on his cell phone spoke in an annoying loud volume seeing as we were in a bookstore. I was just about to rip this obnoxious guy a new one when I looked over and saw that he only had one arm. I will now shut my mouth and be grateful to God that I was given four working limbs and a soft voice.

Upon finishing my blog entry and feeling like a stalker catching myself staring at handsome man across the cafe, I unplugged my laptop and went back to the table I was first sitting at, the one that forced him to notice me. (Hey, I told you I was a stalker!!!) It was, unfortunately, directly next to the loud one-armed man, but he'd finally ended his call so I grabbed a few magazines and began doing research on future writing assignments. I mean, who doesn't want to end up in Glamour, right? So of course, I look up every few minutes and make googly eyes at cute boy and several times he smiles back. At the exact moment I am about to strike up a deep and meaningful conversation, the one-armed man begins chatting me up! Seriously? This is who the universe wants me to talk to today? I must've pissed someone off somewhere because karma has come around to kick my ass.

So what does this loud mouth want to talk to me about? Highlights from our conversation include:

1) Stories that begin with the sentence "I was on my way to prison when..." Apparently he was a prison guard and worked there. A one-armed Cuban prison guard? I need a minute to process this information.

2) The government and how he doesn't own an EZ-Pass or a credit card or so much as a library card because he doesn't want Big Brother watching his every move. 

3) That he's been to Barnes & Noble in 45 states but this one and the one in Pennsylvania are his favorites. Where was that town in Pennsylvania? Hmmm...hold on...he'll think of it...just give me a minute... (5 full minutes later) He jumps out of his chair and says ALLENTOWN!!! Wow, dude, calm down. I was feigning interest. It's really not that important.

4) Al Gore's electricity bill. No, I'm not kidding.

5) His hatred for New York based on our lack of Wa-Wa's. For those of you in New Jersey (or Allentown, PA) this is a clear statement. For those of you New Yorkers, please think of 7-11. Don't think I'd include it on my Top Ten list of reasons not to move, but hey, to each their own.

6) That he's in town to pay a ticket he didn't know he'd gotten from a traffic camera while on his way to take the police force entrance exam. Revisit Big Brother is watching conversation.

I would like to point out that this entire diatribe was fairly one-sided. I didn't want cute guy to see me being rude but I couldn't bring myself to fully engage him so I was trying very hard to look like I was concentrating on Marie Claire's guide to style. That the articles I was reading on Hot Celeb's Newest Trends would somehow change my life thereby needing my undivided attention. I barely graced him with a few nods of my head, a couple of "mm-hmmm's" and a solitary "ahhh." He did not take a hint. Fortunately, he did take a bathroom break. Could he simply go in peace though? No. That would be too easy. He stood up and said, "I'm really enjoying talking to you. You seem like a nice girl. I want to make sure you don't run away while I'm gone so I'm gonna leave my phone on the table so you can't go anywhere. Watch my phone. If anyone steals it, I'll know who to come back to!"

Was that a thinly veiled threat? I wasn't quite sure how to take it. I didn't want to be responsible for someone else's possessions. I mean, it's common bookstore etiquette that when you excuse yourself to use the facilities, you ask someone to kindly watch your laptop or your books or make sure nobody takes your seat. But to purposefully leave only your phone on the table and command me to babysit it? Oh hell no!

I look over at the handsome, intelligent, successful future father of my children and with my best smile I implore him "Can you please get me out of this???" Blink, blink. Bats eyelashes. He smiles back and says "Sorry, you're on your own." Then he packs up his reading material and walks out of the store. What The Fuck?!?!

So here I am, left with no cute boy (who was clearly an asshole anyway and I would never want to raise my babies with that sort of role model) and a horribly loud prison guard who believes that global warming is a hoax. This is sooo not what I had in mind for today. He returns and I'm about to pack up and leave when the one-armed man says "You know, this is the nicest anybody's been to me in a long time." Aw, crap. Now I feel bad. He sees my name on my notebook and says "Kim?" I nod my head yes. He replies, "Henry. Nice to meet you." And then he extends what would be his right arm, if he had one, for me to shake his "hand" which consists of a nailless thumb just below his elbow. Oh. My. God. Please, please get me out of here. I instead take his left hand in mine and manage to squeak out "Henry. Pleasure."

As I powerwalk back to my car in the parking lot, I replay the entire incident over in my head. Really the only question truly plaguing me for 45 minutes was this: Henry was wearing a watch on his left wrist. I cannot figure out how he got it on there.

Yup, I'm definitely going to hell for that one.

Copyright Kimberly Spice 2010

Pink Eye

It should be well noted that the point in time you have a highly contagious disease is NOT the time you should be going out on a date. Just in case anyone else out there was thinking that meeting me for drinks with pink eye is a good idea, I shall warn you now: it's not. Please, please stay home, for the love of all things holy, and don't touch anything or anyone. Wash your hands like Detective Monk and wipe your surfaces down with disinfectant as though trying to cover up a heinous crime you just committed. Do not, however, go out in public and inflict your illness on the rest of the world. It's just gross.

Why the rant, you ask? I'll give you three guesses.

Choice A) This is a public service announcement from the CDC

Choice B) I am a germaphobe

Choice C) This could only happen to me

Hope you picked C.

I started chatting with this guy through okc on and off about a month ago. He tells me that he owns and operates his own business, he is a fellow Long Islander and enjoys travel. Honestly, he's pretty dorky looking and though I normally fall for the slightly nerdy kind, this guy could be the poster child for the Still A Virgin campaign in NYC. I try to judge based on personality and not looks and he seems nice enough so I give him my number. Besides, a cup is a cup is a cup, right?

He lives down in Long Beach, one of my favorite towns in the whole world. The date he proposes is drinks and a picnic on the beach at sunset. How romantic! Dorky with a sweet side. Love it. Unfortunately, he calls me the day of our date and says that he woke up with his eye swelled shut and feeling like crap so he'll have to cancel. No big deal. People get sick. We'll reschedule. Except that he proceeds to send me a picture of his puffy, red, swollen, sticky, gooey, crusty, diseased eye. Oh. My. God. GROSS!!!

The next day, he sends me a message saying that he's feeling much better and could we please go out? No. Call me in 10 - 14 days when the antibiotics have worked their magic. Thanks.

Fast forward two weeks (doctor's orders) and we agree to meet up for a "quick drink." I have found that this is what men say when they're afraid I'll run away too fast for them to bother wasting a dinner date on. Don't worry, the practice works both ways. I suggest a restaurant in Rockville Centre that I've been to with my girlfriends and am comfortable in. They show sports on huge tv's over the bar so at least we'll have the distraction of baseball should there be a lapse in the conversation. Fortunately for me, the Yankees game has just started and I slide into a bar stool to wait for my date who has gotten lost three times in the past fifteen minutes. In the parking lot. No joke.

He finds me (finally, I was about to send out a search party) and I notice that he's holding an iPhone. He tells me how he unlocked his phone and it now has his own wifi which comes in very handy. I am about to think that this is a brilliant move when he shows me the name of his wifi network. The Dirty Sanchez.

For those of you not in the know and / or under the age of 18 (and I know some of you are reading this), I simply refuse to post the meaning of that phrase. Suffice it to say that you can look it up here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dirty_Sanchez_(sexual_act) but I will warn you that it is NASTY.

I am, of course, taken completely aback and he swears it's just a joke with his friends. He's never done that. Do I believe him? Not so much.

I shall spare you the monotonous minutiae of our conversation and just recap the highlights:

He wants to fly in an extreme wingsuit as seen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ttz5oPpF1Js which I think is CRAZY but makes him feel like a flying squirrel. Great, that's exactly the kind of man I want to date. Air born rodent.

He has a law suit against him for sexual harassment in the workplace from his own assistant director. But don't worry. She's not gonna win. Him being homophobic and teasing the gay guys in his office doesn't mean he's sexually harassing a woman.

They just opened a new massage parlor in his building which one of the guys he works with told him is actually a prostitution ring. There are apparently websites which verify that these places exist and in fact, give you the addresses and choice phrases to use when requesting "personalized attention." Now that he knows they give blow jobs as well as massages, he probably won't go there. Probably?!?! Great. That's precisely what every girl wants to hear. There's a distinct possibility that if you don't sleep with me, I'll be paying for sex by tomorrow. Gives new meaning to the phrase "staying late at the office."

At this point in the evening, I decide the date is long past over. He's five Miller Lites to the wind but I'm ready to run home and shower, nay scrub his aura off of me. I shall bathe in Purell and pray that his grossness doesn't stick.

But the Yankees won. So there's that.

Copyright Kimberly Spice 2010