“One martini is alright, two is too many, three is not enough.”

Wednesday, August 18th, 2010

Units of alcohol over the weekend:
Friday: 5 BL's
Saturday: 2 glasses of Chardonnay
Sunday: 2 G&T's

Calories: Horrible. I went home to visit my family in Buffalo, NY and partook in Mighty Taco (i.e. Taco Bell's better half) and Tim Hortons daily.

Weight: WHY DO I WEIGH THE SAME AS WHEN I STARTED THIS BLOG? HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?

Food consumed today:

3 cups of coffee
a granola bar
a yogurt
a lean cuisine (Aldi style..."Fit and Active")
Ruby Tuesday soup and salad bar
a popsicle

"Purchases I've made since my divorce that I regret" or "Why I only have .43 cents in my savings account.":
August 11th-18th
-a diamond pendent necklace (i.e. my engagement ring recycled)
-a cute strapless dress from Macy's
-Benefit face brightener from Sephora



So, I'm at the therapist's office, and I stumble across an article in Glamour: "36 Things Every Single Girl Must Do Before She Settles Down."

The article includes things like, "go to a movie alone," or "volunteer." And, "date the creeps, you will really value the nice guys afterwords."

I decide to take on the task of accomplishing each of these 36 items, and blogging about them along the way.

For the complete list, go here (any suggestions on what I should do next are welcomed):

I scan the list, and I'm immediately drawn to Number 25: "Sit at a bar by yourself and drink a martini. Cool."

Sounds cool.

I picture myself in a trench coat and sunglasses, sitting at the bar, sipping my martini, while a dark handsome stranger gestures to the seat next to me, and asks (in his husky voice) if it is taken. I say "no," and he proceeds to sit next to me, and order a martini as well. We discuss vodka vs. gin martinis, and he asks me to dinner, where we immediately fall in love, etc., etc., you get the idea. I picture a 3 caret, emerald cut diamond, destination wedding (Turks and Caicos). Honeymoon in the French Rivera. Our children will be called Madeline and Harrison, and they'll attend boarding schools in Germany, and continue onto Cambridge and Oxford.

So I make arrangements to execute this plan. I decide that Thursday will be the day. I figure I have the best chance of not looking like a complete alcoholic on a Thursday.

Location: Plan B, Glastonbury. Perfect location to scope out prospective husbands, who work in the insurance industry, since it is only 10 minutes from Hartford.
Outfit: Black pencil skirt, with a bright turquoise top with cute little buttons, and black peep toe heels.
Time: 5pm.

I pull up to Plan B at 5pm on the dot. I've never been there before, and I realize that the windows are tinted, and one cannot see inside to scope out the situation.

Fuck.

What if I walk in and nobody is there, except for busboys and waitresses standing around waiting for the dinner rush?

I realize this is an exercise that is supposed to be building my confidence. So I turn off the car, reapply my "Viva Glam Gaga" lipstick, and confidently get out of the car, and walk through the door.

I spot the bar, and do my best runway walk, as if I've done this a million times before.

Thank god, there are other people here.

I even see a 40-something lady who's clearly read the same article, because she appears to be doing the same thing I am.

I sit down and order a "dry martini with extra olives" (I did my martini research beforehand).

I get it, take a sip, and almost throw up all over myself.

UGH. What was I thinking?!? I hate liquor. I'm more of a champagne girl.

I choke down a few more sips, thanking god that I ordered extra olives.

All of I sudden I hear, "Is this seat taken?"

Just like clockwork! I wonder for a second if it's possible to book flights to Turks and Caicos on my BlackBerry.

I flip my head around, and see an 80 year old man with a beard, who appears to be working the "hippie" look.

"No," I say friendly, but defeated.

My new bf proceeds to ask the bartender about the beers on tap. He comments that he hasn't had a drink in a long time, although I suspect by "long time," he actually means about 5 minutes. After getting numerous samples of free beer from the waitress, he finally settles on the Sam Summer. I get the feeling that he does this regularly.

He then turns to me, and asks if I've ever been to California.

"No, I haven't," I reply.

"Don't ever go there," he tells me ominously. "I have been there, and I got chills when I was in the movie studios. I could feel the evil. "

Me: "Oh."

"I can tell you have a beautiful spirit. And if you go there, it will be ruined. The evil and materialism will overcome you."

Me: "Oh. Thanks." (Clearly he hasn't noticed my Swarovski crystal cuff.)

I suddenly hear a voice to my left, "Is this seat taken?" I look up, and see a certifiably handsome man.

"No, of course not," I reply.

"Rough day?" he asks.

Oh right, I'm drinking a martini alone.

"Haha, yes."

Dumb, dumb, dumb. I couldn't think of anything witty?

"ARE YOU TWO TOGETHER?" I heard the old man blurt out.

My face turns about 40 shades of red, as I way-too-quickly and way-too-loudly blurt out, "NO. No, of course not!"

"Oh. No offense or anything!" I quickly offer to my new second husband.

"What do you do?" I say nervously (crossing my fingers for "insurance").

We continue to talk for at least 30 minutes.

Before I notice it.

The ring.

See, I usually notice these things immediately. However, when I'd glanced before, his arms were crossed.

I should have realized sooner.

Married.

Me (2nd martini): "Sooo, you are married?"
Him: "Oh. Yeah."
Me: "Congrats! How long have you been married?"
Him: "2 years."
Me: "Oh well, that's awesome! That's kind of a long time!"
Him: "Yeah! Longer than the first one."

Huh?

He proceeds to tell me that when he was 26 years old, his wife (of 12 months) pulled a total DB, and they got divorced. They had been together for 7 years when she did this.

Uh. Did he just tell my story? Did I meet my male equivalent?

We continue to talk for another 45 minutes about our experiences with divorce and dating. I start to realize that even though this conversation is bizarrely inappropriate for someone I just met (not that I have any boundaries), that it's one of the best conversations I have ever had.

He leaves to go have dinner with his wife (what, did you think I would hook up with a MARRIED MAN?), and I leave feeling reassured that everything does work out for the best.

As I'm lost in thought, I suddenly hear, "Don't take offense, because I'm saying this like I'm your grandpa, but you have the most beautiful hair, skin, and eyes." I turn to see my older bf gazing into my eyes.

I don't recall my grandpa EVER telling me that. On the other hand, it sounds vaguely familiar. Like something from "Silence of the Lambs."

"I tell all the young ladies this. Don't settle for just any guy. You deserve someone who will treat you like the princess you are."

Is 80 years old too old for me?

Why did I have that 2nd martini?