My Cartoon Life

Once upon a time, there was . . . . . . . me.  Don’t delude yourself, this isn’t a fairytale.  Perhaps it could be made into a comic strip, not the Wonder Woman/Cat Woman kind.  I don’t have the body for those outfits.  It would be more like the “Working Single Mom Whatever-Can-Go-Wrong-Will” cartoon.  Don’t worry, this isn’t a pity party.  Trust me, I find as much humor in the random acts of weirdness that I like to call my life as the next person.  Probably because a few years ago I decided I could go emo and cry over every mishap in my life or I could enjoy the irony and realize I’m bringing people humor by allowing them to laugh at my expense without guilt.  And since black isn’t my color, and you don’t see many forty-year-old emo people in the Bible belt; I thought it best to stick with laughter.

Where am I going with this?  Who the hell knows!  Where ever this shot of Bailey’s mint chocolate Irish cream takes me.  Okay, you got me – five shots.  But they were small, I swear.  No, I’m not an alcoholic.  Sheesh, don’t jump to conclusions so quickly.  I wasn’t foreshadowing anything there.  If you have to know the truth, I have P.M.S. and it was the only chocolate I could find in the house.  More information than you needed to know and I needed to share, I know.    Ahhhhh, the gods of 17% alcohol content are speaking to me.  I must obey.  Confessions of my dating life shall free us all – from what I’m not sure, but be prepared to be free.

I wouldn’t say I’ve lowered my standards in the men department as I’ve gotten older, merely revamped them.  For example, when I was a hot young thing, the guy had to have beautiful white straight teeth.  Now, they just have to have the majority of their teeth.  No, seriously.  I went on two dates in a row where they had no front teeth.  Yes, that is my life.  Tip of the week:  If you are on a dating website and they are smiling with their mouth closed, it is code for “I don’t have a dental plan”.  Used to I wanted them to have ambition; now I just prefer they don’t live in the basement of their mother’s house.  It’s all about priorities.  In retrospect, maybe on-line dating shouldn’t even existed in my list of priorities.  I may be a slow learner, but let me tell you when you meet the right teacher everything becomes clear.  I found my instructor in Ken James.  Yes, it’s his real name.  His identity doesn’t deserve to be hidden.  Plus, I’m quite sure he doesn’t read, so it’s not like I’m going to have a lawsuit on my hands.  Thanks to Mr. James I finally got it through my thick, though prettily blonde-streaked, skull that my Mr. Right is not going to be found via the internet.

He seemed wonderful on the computer and phone.  We laughed; he asked questions about me and seemed to listen.  I got that champagne bubbly feeling in my stomach when I would get a text from him.  He seemed to meet the prerequisites:  1. Spoke English 2. Hated Sponge Bob 3. Never been in jail for an extended length of time, and  4.  Thought I was brilliant. 

Obviously with all this going for him, I of course, agreed to go out with him.  I got my sister to babysit, bought a new outfit, and even shaved my legs.  He wouldn’t tell me where we were going.  It was a surprise.  Who doesn’t like surprises?  Hmmmm.  I’ve come to learn (remember I’m a quick study) that in my life there isn’t a whole lot of “prize” in surprise.  Maybe that’s the reason for the spelling.  Sigh . . .



Ken picks me up in a working vehicle.  He gains one major point with that one.  He actually resembles his online picture, an oddity in itself.  Any nervousness quickly dissipates as we laugh and talk easily on the drive to the mystery location. 

“Okay, we’re almost there.  Close your eyes.”  He almost seems giddy. 

I smile and play along, covering my eyes.  This has got to be good.    I feel the car slow down; I can tell we’re in a busy place.  Apparently, it isn’t a quiet picnic on a deserted mountain top.  The truck stops.  Ken is laughing with excitement.  He takes my hand from my eyes, holding it between his hands. 

“You can open them now.”

Please God, please God, let this be good.  Don’t let his mother be standing waiting for us to join her for coffin shopping.

Slowly with a drum roll for a heartbeat, I open one eye and then the other.  I turn my head to look at this man beside me.  All I can think to say is, “Did you even read my profile on the dating site?”

I’m stunned at the look of pride on his face.  It’s as if he’s just received the Noble Peace Prize instead of Obama.

“Baby, I know you said you hate the zoo, but I think you just need to experience it with the right person.  Trust me.  You’ll love it.  I bet by the time we’re through you’ll want to get a membership so you and your son can come all the time.”

Yes, God.  Thank you.  This is just what I wanted.  A man that wants to change my mind about things I feel passionately about.  And better yet, thanks for throwing in that thing about what I should do with my son.  We have a winner here.

My mouth is upturned into what I hope passes as a smile, while my eyes are shooting daggers that I hope in someway make him start convulsing.  Find your sweet voice, you can do this.

“Sure, I’m sure this will be great.  After all, I’ve probably misjudged it my entire life.  I’m sure not all zoos are crowded, hot, smelly, with all the good animals hiding.”

He laughs. 

Sure, I was joking.  Sarcasm gets lost on the best of them.

Ken comes around, practically skipping, and opens the door for me.  The gesture releases a bit of my hostility.  Grabbing my hand, we walk toward the entrance.  I have to admit the scenery was breathtaking.  The azaleas were in bloom, and the landscaping was phenomenal.  The attention to detail beckoned guests to explore the glories of nature and animals within this sanctuary.  For a second, I almost found myself looking forward to it.  I admit I do love the pandas.  I gave Ken a real smile and squeezed his hand as we approached the ticket booth. 

“That will be $12.50,” the pimply-faced attendant said without even looking at us.

Ken leaned closer into me.  “Do you think you could get this?  I forgot to get cash before I picked you up.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me?”



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