Monthly Archives: June 2013

three words equal one date.

Last Saturday evening, I decided to “enhance the dating experience” of Daryl and me. These “ideas” seem to POP into my head on my days off while I’m tooling around obsessing running errands, viewing porn reading the news on the internet, or just sitting on the crapper playing Bejeweled Blitz in an easy chair reading a good biography.

jello (2)

Our “dating life” has not gotten stale, mediocre, or even lack-luster after eight years together, however, with our conflicting work schedules we often go days without dates, weeks without sex, and months without a good vodka tonic. Sometimes it feels as though we’re two disabled Carnival cruise ships passing in the night.

So occasionally, I just like to… what’s the term I’m looking for… “raise the bar?” Yeah, I’ll go with that for now. I’m fortunate that Daryl is so adept good at tolerating embracing my ideas to be creative in our relationship. I always enjoy the look on his face when I present these brainstorms over a glass of pinot noir and some English cheddar cheese when he gets home from work. It’s usually a look of a deer in headlights bewilderment, followed by feigned understanding and capped with a sigh smile, a nod and him obligatorily enthusiastically asking “how do we get started?”

“I’m not suggesting initiating new toys, or boys, or boy toys into our dating repertoire,” I explained to him,” I just think we can use tools to make the date more meaningful and thought out.” He shuffled for another piece of cheddar as I sipped my wine and began to explain that on Sunday (his day off) and Monday (my day off) that we could give each other three words that begin with the same letter and must be “incorporated into the date” somehow.”

He washed the cheese down with what I thought was a larger than normal gulp of the wine and continued to wait for more explanation. “For example,” I responded, “Water, Wish, and Wine! You have to come up with a date tomorrow evening that somehow involves those three words! Easy-smeasy right? (thinking to myself that I am NEVER again to use the phrase “easy-smeasy” while presenting an idea of ANY kind).” I must admit that I sort of had a preconceived idea as to how this date could happen quite easily and inexpensively. I’m thinking in my head that a quick trip into West Chester to the Court House fountain, throw in a couple of pennies, grab a glass of wine and a salad at Iron Hill, and BINGO! We’ve enhanced the dating experience with water, a wish, and wine!

Not so fast. Daryl didn’t seem to make the “W” connection quite as quickly and looked a little panicked. Okay, I’ll concede that I DID push this on him without a whole lot of warning, and I thought that perhaps we needed a little time to digest this plan as we finished up dinner for the evening.

The next morning, as I was sipping coffee on the sofa while listening to pretty birds chirping outside while unfriending a few tired folks on FaceBook, I received a phone text from Daryl who happened to be in the bathroom down the hall (how DID we ever survive without smartphones?) that said “Transportation, Transparent and Tradition. Use one or all three in our date tonight.”

I was ecstatic! My idea was accepted!

I immediately started thinking about how I could incorporate these three words into a fun-filled, exciting, worthwhile date. The first word that instantly stuck in my head was of course, “transparent.” I thought Saran Wrap, right? It’s obvious, overt, and just plain obscene!


I dug the Saran Wrap out of the bottom of my foil and baggies drawer (oh yes, I have snack baggies, quart baggies, gallon baggies, zip lock, and even color strip baggies… it’s pathetic) and took it to the bedroom where I was going to “test” how this would work. I didn’t get too much “wrapped” when I realized that this would most definitely NOT be pretty. So I thought about using invisible Scotch Tape on my nipples! I could hardly contain my self-brilliance. How hot would it be to see me with “transparent” tape on my erect fleshy nipple? Then I tried to pull one off of as a clump of hair followed.

Sigh, again.

I finally decided to just make peach Jell-O with homemade whipped cream and a fresh slice of peach on top for dessert. “Transparent” down, two words to go.

The “tradition” part was easy. I just incorporated that into our traditional clinking of the wine glasses at the beginning of our meal. I most likely could have come up with something better on this one, but considering the timing, I went with it.

“Transportation” was more difficult to figure out. I thought that perhaps a ride to “Kiwi Yogurt” in town would be a fun way to relay transportation, but since I had used a dessert for another word, I was at a road block. I finally decided to dig out a game that we used to play called Mille Bornes. It’s a card game that originated in France and required us to interact while moving along in an imaginary car race to the finish line. It was a perfect solution considering the winner had choice of the after dinner um… prize.

So it’s not the finale of the Bachelor, or Game of Thrones, but it DID give us the opportunity to have a little fun with a little effort. I can’t wait to try this again next week!



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Bite Me Hallmark. (or when Father’s Day has outlived its purpose.)

This year is theoretically my twenty-eighth Father’s Day.

I think.

I’m honestly not sure what age my oldest daughter is because, well, I’ve just never paid much attention to timed things like that. I used to. But as I get older… ages, moments, years, anniversaries, and the number of grains of sand on a beach just don’t stick with me like they used to. There must be a name for that.

There must also be a name for that moment when Father’s Day finally outlives its purpose. I mean, I’m still considered via DNA to be a Father per say, but at this point in my life I don’t truly FEEL the part. It’s becoming a little… what’s the word I’m looking for… obligatory. I’d love to tell my three kids adult children offspring that I’m over the cute cards with hammers, golf clubs and cool cars that say what a great Dad I am or was or will be. I don’t want to hurt their feelings, but I’m truly past the ties, the books, the drawings, the rare poem, and the gift cards. Perhaps, they are too.

Looking back, I actually WAS a good Father at one time, and I’m not fishing for support, looking for pats on the back, or soliciting comments about being a parent, however, I am basically expressing the fact that I feel that my role as a Father doesn’t exist for me presently. It’s as if I look back at this other person who played the role quite well at one time but is now not needed for the part. Am I already ready for my close-up Mr. DeMille?

I’m okay with that. At least, I think I am.

In more recent years, I’ve tried doing the phone call thing and attempting to schedule time together, but there were distances, and time restraints, and jobs, and schools, and issues, and there was even a cat in the cradle, but I felt that my trying to push into the moments of growing adults with lives of their own was making me seem almost desperate to remain in their world. I felt like maybe I was pushing too hard, to be what I felt I should be. Just a Dad.

So I stopped. And they stopped too.

I’m still okay with that. At least, I THINK I am. I really love who I have become, where I am, and what I stand for as a pretty genuine person who is finally comfortable with his voice. I guess I’m also okay with those kids that I used to take to every playground in the tri-state area, to swimming lessons, gymnastics, piano lessons, school concerts and plays, field trips, the beach, horseback riding, vacations, graduations, and even a spectacular wedding who have become wonderful people who are all charging ahead in worlds of their own.

So, I’m bowing out of Father’s Day this year, and the next, and the next…


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