12 Days 'Til Xmas

Beware Friday the 13th!! - Dating disaster - Attempt #5

Hi gang! Before I get into the details of my date from hades, I feel I should tell you about the venue. We met at Bowlmor bowling alley on Pier 60 of the Chelsea Pier Sports & Entertainment Complex. Very cool place, and the ultimate hangout. There is also an ice skating rink at the pier, which I would love, love, love to go to but maybe after Christmas. If not there to skate, then Central Park for sure. Rockefeller Center, as pretty as it is under the Christmas Tree, is a little too touristy for my taste. Anyway Bowlmor is colorful, energetic and fun. There are tons of diversions and it's the perfect place for a date. So keep it in mind when you're thinking of a place to go with either someone new or your current sweetheart. 

Here is their YouTube commercial "The Perfect 1st Date," effective and encouraging. 

Bowlmor had no bearing on the failure of my date with the bond trader. The failure I blame totally on two components: 1) it was Friday the 13th, AND 2) Mr. Grinch was there.  'Unlucky' was already in the air and my Christmas villain was the saboteur.  Yes that's right, he was there. I swear, he's like the character Hans Gruber from the movie "Die Hard." He is a Grade-A Christmas party, date crashing Terrorist to my dating life!  So, let's get into the nitty gritty of what happened tonight. It's not pretty, I warn you. 

Well, bond trader was a nice guy - I think. Hard to tell since his temperament vacillated from one moment to the next toward me. One minute hot, the next cold. Of course, there was the usual ogling thing, but that's to be expected, it's not like 'my girls' aren't what they are, and he, after all, is a man.  I don't wholly approve of that, but it is a reality. Truth be told, I ogled a bit too, and he did have a nicely shaped bum, too bad I had to watch it leave me - I'll get to that.   So, 'David' as I had previously referred to him, I think was ill, either that or he really wasn't interested in me and wanted to spend as little time as possible in my company. Gosh, I hope that's not the case, but I'll never find out.  He kept going to the men's room and each time he did - who was beside me? - you guessed it, him.    I won't deny that there were moments when my palms became sweaty - definitely not helping my bowling, that's for sure.  But I was on a date with another man!  I wanted to get to know my date, not to mention be respectful, knowing that David was, obviously, hoping to enjoy the company of someone during the holiday season, too.  It would have been rude to engage or encourage Mr. December's antagonistic behavior (which teased, taunted and attempted to fueled me on.)  Besides, once again, he had a another beautiful blonde hanging all over him.  

Well back to David, on his last trip to the men's room, he was gone for about ten minutes.  I was about to go check on him when he came back to the lane with a red, swollen lip, his sweater was puckered and askew, and he wouldn't look me in the eye.  He was all flustered, and clearly shaken when he grabbed his coat to leave.  Behind him, near the bar area, stood The Terrorist with his arms folded across his chest watching my date - making sure he departed.  David wouldn't tell me what happened and he just left me there, dumped on our first date.  I was never so humiliated - well maybe I had been, there was my high school yearbook, but that's a story for another time.  I was abandoned on my date - and feeling totally rejected.  Unlucky Lizzy.   Anyway, He was the cause and admitted with that smug grin of his, to hitting David.  I was so angry, actually incensed that he would do such a thing - He hit someone and then ... oh god ... then in the heat of our argument ... December kissed me, and I reacted and not in a way I'm proud of.  The very act I am chiding him for ... I did.  *hangs head in shame*

After all that, I'm mortified to admit that I'm still amazingly attracted to him in a strange sort of verboten way.  Let me explain: Do you remember as a kid when your mother would take you to a store filled with all sorts of pretty, expensive things and all you wanted to do was touch everything, feel the surface, maybe even eat or lick it?  Well that's how it is with me and Mr. Hot Bod.  He's eye candy, he's raw masculinity, he's too hot and dangerous to touch because - wait for it, here it comes - the palm of your mother's hand to the back of your head when you finally give into the temptation.  She shouts, as if you're a dumb arse, "I said, Don't Touch!"   No, the terrorist is someone I need to stay away from, if only I could, but he's always there and I'm finding myself drawn to him like a child to candy.  Lick. Lick.  Stop that, Lizzy!  Sorry, dear gentle readers. Breathe, I remind myself.  Deeeep breaths.  Retreat to my Christmas happy place of the last two days.  Remember the song from the day before.  Grasp onto Christmas Charity and try to see the good in Mr. December.  Regain my dignity.  Forget about the date-beating hard body who touched you so intimately while teaching you to bowl.   Focus.  

I'm trying, my friends, and with your continued support and friendship I will conquer the demons lurking - both physically and mentally. I am after all The Black Widow!  LOL  (such a stupid name started by my trainer.) Tomorrow morning I'll hit the gym, blow off steam heat and kick butt in the ring.  Poor Alex, he's not going to know why, but I'm sure he'll be so proud of my ruthless tenacity.  So there you have it, my fifth attempt at finding my Christmas date, but don't worry, I'm NOT discouraged.  I still have my shadchan match at the Chinese restaurant.  I still have my much anticipated date with J.L on Sunday night (yes, I know you all disagree,) and I still have a date with my new friend, G's, brother.  Oh, oh, oh ... I forgot to tell you, I also have a blind date coming up, someone my sister is setting me up with!  See, things are positive, after all, with Charlotte working with Emma Woodhouse, who is also on the job, what could possibly go wrong?  LOL  Yeah, I know, that's what Harriet Smith thought, too.  Darnitt!