My story, told in the voice of my dog, won 3rd place in the Paws & Reflect Writing Contest. It’s about my rescue dog Mila and how she went from a rescue dog to a Fairy Tail Princess, and moved from the trailer park to Summerlin.
I saw this on Facebook and couldn’t resist re-posting it.
It was originally posted by www.InvestigationDiscovery.com.
If YOU have any online dating stories, please share anonymously on my site.
Conchita’s first post was a reply in my post: Deal Breakers. This story is so funny, I thought it deserved it’s own post. Thank you so much Conchita. If I’m ever in Kentucky, I am definitely looking you up!
When does an irritant turn into a ‘deal breaker’? I decided to pose this question to both my male and female friends. Their answers were, to say the least, interesting.
Mick and Michelle have been married for about 15 years and they knew each other a number of years prior to that. Both of them are really easy-going fun people apart and even more so together. They had both lived in Northern California and participated in “experimental lifestyles” enjoying drugs, sex and philosophies of life. These days they are mellow Christian hippies.
I always enjoy hanging out with them, especially when Mick cooks. He was a gourmet chef in San Francisco so the only factor limiting his menus is his imagination. It was over a plateful of homemade Sushi that I posed the question to them. Mick started laughing almost immediately.
“I once dated this girl back in college who had to tell me all about her bodily functions. I knew every fart, belch or hiccup that she experienced. Oh, and every time she would fart, she would start giggling and say, ‘guess what I just did?’” Mick said imitating a girl’s voice.
Michelle and I held our stomachs while we laughed at Mick’s story.
“Oh ladies, that’s not even the worst part of it. She told me her bowel movements and menstrual cycles as well. But, that’s still not the worst part,” Mick paused while he laughed to himself. “So, I’m a twenty-two year old guy, right? I go home to meet her parents, and her mom is the exact same way. I spent a half hour at dinner listening to her menopause experience. That woman didn’t spare any details either. I learned all about night sweats and vaginal dryness.”
He paused again to laugh while Michelle wiped tears from her eyes. “We broke up shortly after that visit to her parent’s. The deal breaker for me was picturing myself at every holiday sitting next to that old lady and listening to her latest bodily function story.” He raised up his voice again like a girl, “Here Sonny, have some mashed potatoes. How would you like to hear about runny bowel movement I had yesterday?”
Michelle leaned over and kissed Mick’s cheek. “Now Dear, aren’t you glad you met and married me instead?”
“Yes Dear. You are not half as disgusting as she was. You’re close but . . .” he let his voice trail off as she slapped his arm playfully.
There was a lull in the conversation but then Michelle spoke up. “My deal breaker was a Warlock.”
My jaw dropped as I looked at Mick who seemed as confounded as me.
“What?” Michelle asked innocently, looking at Mick and me, our mouths agape.
“A Warlock? As in male witch?” I asked still confused.
“Oh yeah. He was a really nice guy. I met him at Junior College during my four years there,” she explained. “I liked him but he kept trying to cast a spell on me and my roommate to have a threesome with him.”
Mick spoke up, “Oh, I can see why that would be a deal breaker.”
“Oh, that wasn’t the deal breaker,” Michelle exclaimed. “It seems he was also a cross-dresser and he ruined a few of my shoes. Those days, I didn’t have much money. After he ruined my favorite shoes and I couldn’t replace them, he was history.”
I mentioned several deal breakers in my story Finding Billyniceguy. These were things that would cause me to exclude a man from consideration right from the get go. For example, if a guy posted a picture but didn’t smile so I could see his teeth, I had to assume he was hiding missing teeth. Another deal breaker was extreme politics. If the gentleman in question was a Sarah Palin lover, he was tossed out the window in a New York second.
What are your deal breakers?
You’ll have to read Finding Billyniceguy to find out more of mine.
Last night my eyelids she did color.
Paralyzed in sleep, I watched in awe.
As from behind a see-through canvas
Came an invisible brush and amazingly colored paints.
From right to left
and left to right.
Image, image, clear.
Image, image, cleanse.
Continuous fluid brushstrokes
perhaps done to music.
Music I could not hear.
A glimpse of Heaven she did share
for such vivid colors exist no where.
What message lies beneath this beauty?
Swiftly painted and then erased!
Let me see again.
Let me peek again.
While I’m still on earth.
A Color Ballet –
— a Message from My Sister
Date: Sometime mid-2006
My sister inspired this color show.
This much I do know.
I know because she knew I’d know.
Because I miss her so.
Although I’d considered myself a seasoned traveler, diverting to Beijing by myself at the tail end of a business trip was a little scary. Sure, I was meeting one of my suppliers there in a few days but that still left me on my own for three of them. I had been to China and Hong Kong before but my travels had been confined to land and water and I’d always had a business associate nearby. My papers were in order, I knew the Mandarin words for ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and, after hours of practicing with peanuts, I could handle chopsticks like a native. It was going to be an adventure!
The trip started off on the wrong note when I got in the wrong line at the airport in Hong Kong. An angry armed man yelled at me and pointed me off the line. I didn’t know if he was airport security, local police or Hong Kong military. It really didn’t matter. “Oh my God”, I thought. “I’m going to get shot in Communist China.”
My accommodations were at the China Hotel, in Beijing, on a floor with a private guest lounge that included drinks, heavy hors-d’oeuvres at night and a hearty breakfast in the morning. Between that and the fresh fruit in my room, I was almost all set. I still needed to stock up on Diet Pepsi and found an underground mall connected to the hotel to satisfy my addiction. I arranged for a private tour for the morning of day two to visit the Summer Palace, the Temple of Heaven and a few other places, and I arranged a group tour for day three.
Day Two was a beautiful day and my tour guide spoke English very well. I ate a barbequed sweet potato from a street vendor and stood on what the ancient Emperors thought was the highest place on earth – the closest point on earth to the Gods. I was still smoking at the time and thought it would be OK to have a cigarette outdoors on the Summer Palace grounds. I thought wrong. No sooner had I lit up when a guard came over and proceeded to yell and wave his arms in my face. “Oh my God”, I thought. “I’m going to get arrested in Communist China.”
A group tour on day three took me to the Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square. Each place was more incredible that the last. The Forbidden City was absolutely breathtaking and just the idea of solid wood buildings lasting for centuries without termite or weather damage was totally mind boggling. Tiananmen Square brought different emotions. I’ve never felt as small as I did that day in the vastness of the Square. I’ve also never felt so “not in control” as that I did that day amid such a serious military presence.
My Chinese friends, Peter and Winnie, arrived late on day three with two of their Latvian customers. We met at their hotel and ate Peking Duck in Peking. Peter insisted on escorting me back to my hotel via cab but I really wanted to get to the Hard Rock Café to pick up some souvenir shot glasses. So, he accompanied me to the Hard Rock, but didn’t quite understand that I’d only be there 5 minutes to make some quick purchases. He left me there. I thought, “OK, there’s a line of cabs here; I’ll be fine.” But the next available cab was a gypsy cab. (And here I thought gypsy cabs only existed in New York.) There was no meter. It smelled of incense or pot or I don’t know what. My eyes teared from the smell and my lungs contracted. We got on the highway right away and, thank God I knew where my hotel was in relation to the Hard Rock. (I have long been a map aficionado.) I was sitting in the back of this vehicle with what could have been a madman, and I started thinking, “if this guy exits before your exit, you’re going to have to jump and roll.” I had gotten a C in college self-defense (my only C ever) but I thought I could at least remember how to fall and roll.
And so, for the next 10 minutes (the longest of my life, thank you), I sat poised to jump out of the moving car, all the while thinking , “Oh my God, I’m going to be murdered in Communist China”. Needless to say, he was not a murderer or kidnapper and I arrived safely at my hotel albeit lacking oxygen and with a severe sore throat.
The Great Wall of China and the Ming Tombs were on the agenda for my final day in Beijing. Not wanting to mingle with tourists, Peter decided to take us to a closed, out of the way entrance to the Great Wall. It was long and arduous. In some sections the stairs were narrow and steep, able to accommodate only the ball of the foot, while other sections had deep, short steps, requiring several strides to get to the next step. Interspersed were sections of undulating stone road with no steps at all.
It was the year 2000, and although I was a slim version of myself back then, several hours into our hike, I found myself huffing and puffing in a serious way. And I thought to myself, “Oh my God, I’m going to have a heart attack in Communist China.”
And that, my friends, is when I decided to quit smoking.
I look at this card every day. They look so much like us.
Chubby One and Chubby Two. I think they’re really us.
I watch their paths converging, the rainbow in the sky.
You’re just a step ahead of me. I want to ask God why.
I know you’ll meet me on my way. Of that I have no doubt.
Into the light, hand in hand, I pray to take your route.
If you’ve ever tried internet dating, here’s your chance to share your experiences. We want the good, the bad, the ugly, the funny, the successful happy endings, the trials and tribulations. Which sites tended to yield better prospects? Which sites were easier to use? How many frogs did you kiss before you found your Prince/Princess? How long did it take? Did you cross paths with any con artists? Tell us about any whack jobs you may have encountered in your journey. Tell it all.
(Use a fictitious name if you want to keep your secrets secret.)
Please ask friends and family to share on this site.
He woke to the familiar sound coming through his open bedroom window. From that single sound, he could predict what the day would bring. It started with a phlegmy cough spit in the kitchen sink of the house next door. Next, he knew she would prepare coffee and breakfast for whomever had stayed the night. Overnight guests were common. Lively conversation would follow. Next, would be the sound of her sweeping the alley and front sidewalk. It was a daily ritual when she was down for the weekend. Next would come the meatballs. Mary’s meatballs. He looked forward to that part of the day when she would call him over to come taste her spicy meatballs. He didn’t even mind that she called him “the Baby” for there was nothing in this world like Mary’s meatballs. And there was no other house in that little beach town that was quite like hers. It was a loud house swelling with love, laughter, arguments, good food, good times, boxers, actors, three generations of family on most weekends and, on one 4th of July night, even murder.
It’s funny how the gross sound of a phlegmy cough could conjure up such wonderful and comforting memories.