Dating in a Small Town

It's no surprise that I love country music, however it wasn't until recently that I realized that my suburban New Jersey life could actually relate to it.  Although I don't have a dog that ran away or a truck that broke down, I do live in a small town and Miranda Lambert's "Famous in a Small Town" has described how I feel about living here lately.

I live in a small town.  Specifically, there are 8,165 people in my town.  61% are single.  The female to male ratio is 10:8 and 30% of people are between 25 and 44.  There are 313 people per square mile. I'm a lawyer, you do the math because I can't.

My town is a great place with access to walking trails, a CVS, Starbucks, a local supermarket and plenty of single educated men.  While I know that there are of other towns with eligible bachelors, I prefer to date close to home because I'm lazy, gas is expensive, and I live in cluster of neighborhoods that is filled with divorced men. I can afford to date within a 2 mile radius...or so I thought.

As I mentioned, there's a supermarket within walking distance to my house.  I go in there so often that I have made friends with one of the guys who works at the deli.  He even reads my blog, or at least he claims to, presumably in an effort to impress me and get me to go out with him (hi, Mike, thanks for reading but it's still not happening).  Deli guys notwithstanding, I've seen some good looking men walk into the supermarket on occasion and recently joked to a friend that I should hang out at the supermarket to meet men.  That's the thing about jokes, they sometimes come back to bite you in the ass...


So I got an email last week from a man on Match.com who works for the corporate part of the local supermarket.  I mentioned I shop there and am friends with deli guy.  Right away he knows who I'm referring to (apparently Mike flirts with all of the customers and I'm not that special after all) so I did some recon and asked my favorite meat slicer about the Match.com guy.  After things checked out and the deli guy confirmed that the Match guy wasn't a known serial killer, I scheduled a phone call with him.

Within the first two minutes, Match guy tells me that he got a call from the manager of my specific store  earlier that day.  The manager called and said, "Oh, I heard you're going out with Emily, I know her and her mom! How great is this?! (yadda yadda yadda)" Apparently my conversation with the deli guy about the Match guy turned into the hot topic over the prepared foods counter and rumor spread amongst the supermarket employees that Match.com guy were dating, nevermind the fact that we hadn't even met. 

As it turns out, the conversation with Match.com guy was nice but not that great.  We had little in common and I didn't think our connection on the phone was enough to warrant an in person date.  No harm no foul, right?  Wrong.  

I went into the supermarket the next day.  As I walked past the deli counter, I felt all eyes on me. I turned around to see them talking and gesturing toward me. Not that I'm not a head turner, but these hoagie slingers weren't just checking me out.  It was the kind of, "Oh yeah, there's that girl who Mike said is dating the corporate guy".  Awesome. (sarcasm font)

I quickly got my essentials and proceeded to the checkout, all the while bitching on the phone to my mother that this town is too small and my frustration with the awkwardness of my shopping experience.  I can't even go to the freaking supermarket without wondering if I'm going to be the subject of the manager's phone call (which by the way, I'm totally still contemplating complaining about because really, how professional is that?!).  I felt like a celebrity, just without all the money and paparazzi and more of the gossip.  As usual, my mother tells me I'm overreacting, there are plenty of men in this town and it's a silly coincidence.  I rolled my eyes at her through the phone and say goodbye.  

As I hungup and collected my groceries, I turned around to see E, a guy I dated back in September, standing there with his kids, waving at me.  Miranda Lambert is right, everybody is famous in a small town.

Happy Divorce Anniversary to Me!

Today marks a year to the day when I walked up to the courthouse flanked by my supportive parents to officially end my marriage.  The first time I had faced my ex-husband since I had sprung a divorce on him like a trip to Disney World (sure honey, I'll come over at 8. ::ding dong, process server!::).  I remember that day like it was both yesterday and a lifetime ago.

I remember agonizing over what to wear to the courthouse, as I wanted to look fabulous but professional the last time I saw the man I was divorcing, lest he forget what a fine piece of ass an amazing woman, 11 years his junior, he was losing.  My parents told me he had worn the cuff links from our wedding (nice touch) when he came to talk to them and ask them to ask me to reconsider my decision (really now?).  Those cuff links that less than two years earlier had received a marital blessing were now witnessing my mother's infamous "Screw You" speech, calm and nonthreatening with just the right amount of Jewish guilt.

It took all of my self control not to scoff at the judge when he asked whether there was any hope for reconciliation and then let out a "Woohooooo!" when he announced we were officially divorced.  My mother and I celebrated with sangria, courtesy of my amazing attorneys and, later that night, we commemorated the event with members of our golf club over Blow job Shots.  Note: The proper way to announce that you're doing morally questionable shooters in a country club is not to announce, "I'm doing blow jobs tonight!" 

Blow job Shot, no hands necessary

A year ago, people told me that trite adage, "This is the first day of the rest of your life!" that you hear at every momentous occasion.  Between 3 graduations, a wedding, a GTFO (Get the Eff Out) day and a divorce day, I ought to have relived my the first day of my life more times than a cat.  But this time it was true.  Something was different, and it wasn't just my ability to have a good sex life.

Over the past year I lost 182 pounds of baggage (plus 10 of my own, thankyouverymuch) and I've gained back my identity.  As it turns out, there was a pretty fabulous woman lurking under the shadow of her husband!  I became a woman who knows no bounds, who isn't afraid to speak her mind (anonymously and in vague terms) and who knows that she deserves so much better than what she settled for.  Thanks to the support of my family and friends, I have an amazing life with so much ahead of me.

Happy Divorce Anniversary to Me!

Best. Date. Ever. (Kidding) aka The Night I Ditched My Date for Another Dude at the Bar

Several months ago I went on a date with a man who was separated at the time and going through the divorce process.  Although I was breaking my "No dating men who aren't yet divorced" rule, he said they had been separated for a while and were just working out the legal kinks of their custody order.  Having experienced the hassle of legal kinkery (no, not that kind), I threw caution to the wind and agreed to meet him.

He told me he would be coming from court, as he and his soon-to-be-ex-wife would be duking it out over their kids that day.  Awesome.  Putting my better judgment aside, I showed up and hoped that he would be in a good mood, as meeting someone after an appearance in Family Court is like playing a game of Russian Roulette.  When I showed up, he was sitting at the bar, halfway through his vodka rocks.  This is the point when I should have realized that I was dealing with a nightmare and bolted.

Instead, I politely asked how his day was, expecting him to give a reciprocal polite but vague answer then move on to more appropriate first date topics like politics, religion, abortion, or anything other than your divorce proceedings.  Instead he took it as carte blanche to air his dirty divorce laundry through another couple of drinks. After his third drink, he started referring to his soon-to-be-ex-wife as "that effing c-u-n-t" (because spelling it out is not only offensive but leads porn spammers to my blog).

To add insult to injury, my date then proceeded to tell me how much money he made, how he was the most interesting man on Earth, and other things arrogant people like to say that I try to tune out.  The fact that he was a Jets fan and drove a Japanese truck put me over the edge. I needed a reprieve.  What I really needed was to leave, but sometimes I'm to polite for my own good (yes, really).

I excused myself and headed to the bathroom.  On my way there, I was approached by a cute man I had seen sitting near us.  Having heard my boisterous date brag about himself all the way across the bar, he laughed and asked me how my date was going.  I told him it could only be better if he had a gun with which I could shoot myself in the foot as an excuse to leave.  As it turns out, he was a cop and did have a gun, but more on that later.  He told me to ditch my date and join his group for a beer.  I wish...

When I returned from the bathroom my date decided that it was his turn and I realized that I had been sitting next to a member from my parent's golf club the entire time.  He turned to me, laughed and asked me how my date was going.  Thanks for the encouragement, buddy!

After what seemed like eons but was really just another half hour, I threw out the old, "Should we get out of here?" cue to leave.  My date quickly took out his bill fold, stuffed to the brim with discount club cards and hundred dollar bills, paid and we left.  With an awkward hug goodbye, he got into his car, dropped the convertible top down (in 50 degree weather because he's THAT awesome) and let me walk to my car alone.  Best. Date. Ever.  (Kidding)

Determined not to let the night suck completely, I hauled my ass back to the bar and sat down in front of the bartender.  He took one look at me and burst out laughing (no surprise).  You know you're on a bad date when the bartender comes up to you after, laughs in your face and buys you a beer.  Sidebar: I love bartenders.  They're freaking awesome.  Some of my favorite people are bartenders. Ok, so that's not 100% true, but I do really like bartenders.  I just have to say they're my favorite people because some of them know more secrets about me than most of my friends. 

While I was making fast friends with the bartender, the cute guy from the bathroom came over, bought me another beer and laughed at me (again, no surprise).  He and his friends had taken bets on how long my Best. Date. Ever. would last.  Apparently, my date was the only who in the bar who didn't realize how bad the date had been.  This was evidenced by the call I received from him 10 minutes after he left asking me out again for the next night.  I respectfully declined.  

I ended up joining the cute cop's table.  He was with a group of friends, all in their 40's, having a "Guy's Night Out" who were happy to have a borderline-inappropriate hot young thang (my words, not theirs) entertain them with my dating horror stories and thoughts on happy ending massages (just say no, because that's gross and you're married, so it's also pathetic).  I spent a couple hours with them and had a blast.  The cute cop from the bathroom was recently divorced and we had a nice time flirting and laughing.

I tend never to be surprised by things that happen in my life.  My family and friends have often said to me, "Something like this would only happen to you"...and it's usually true.  Going on a date with one man and ending up giving my number to someone else, is not what I would call a normal dating story.  Strangely enough, this wasn't the first time it's happened to me, and it probably won't be the last!

28 by 28

So while I was procrastinating researching some important stuff on the internet one day, I came across some of these "30 by 30" check lists that people have going on.  A mini bucket list of sorts, it's a list of things you want to complete by the time you're 30 (if you hadn't figured that out by the title of the list, maybe going back to school should be on yours).  I thought about it and decided that it was too early for me to create a 30 by 30 list.  I have plenty of time, I'm only 25.  Um, what?!

For some reason I've been going around thinking that I'm 25 for 3 years.  Totally true.  It wasn't until the other day that I said to someone, "Well, I'm 27 already" that I realized that I'm not 25.  In fact, I'm not even 27.   Before you start worrying about early onset dementia, realize that I do know my age.  I may not excel at math, but I do know that 2012-1984 = 28.  Yup, I'm 28.  I don't feel it though.  I'm caught in a strange place between having the ass and killer body face of a 25 year old and the life experience of a 35 or 40 year old.

So I've decided to spend some time thinking about what I'd like to do before I turn 30, which I realize is now less than 2 years away.  ::hyperventilates into paper bag::  I used to think that by the time I was 30 I'd be happily married, have at least one child, 2 dogs and a killer legal career.  Since that dream blew up in my face like a meth lab (except for the great career part), I have to make a new list of things to accomplish by the time I'm 30.

I started to write a "30 by 30" list, but everything that came to mind were awesome things that I had already done by the time I was 28.  So in an effort to come up with 30 things to augment my life with within the next 2 years, I will take you on a trip down memory lane with my "28 by 28" list.

28 by 28

1. Found my music passion--Top 40s were fun for a while, but country music has become a passion of mine.  Judge if you must, but I can't go a day without listening to country.  Haters gonna hate, but you'll never (see #2)
2. Rocked cowboy boots and hat--I've got 4 pairs of cowboy boots, 2 cowboy hats and I can rock them all.  You have no idea how much fun a cowboy hat can be ;)
3. Made out with a Grammy winning music artist--I did this while I was in college but it's notable enough to add to the list, especially because he recently won a Grammy in the past several years.  
4. Lived in a foreign country (Israel)
   
5. Started volunteering--I found a passion for something other than country music.  I volunteer for an organization that helps battered women--a cause that has become close to my heart over the past year.
6. Found a hobby--When life hands you a man who refuses to buy a dining room table, you buy a piece of crap off Craigslist and turn it into gold!  Then you realize you messed up, laugh at the fact that he got it in the divorce settlement, and proceed to perfectly refinish killer furniture for your new condo!
   

   

   Kitchen table refinishing
7. Kicked some ass--I wrap these manicured hands, velcro on my boxing gloves and beat the crap out of a heavy bag.  It's a great stress reliever, keeps me in shape, and gives me confidence that no asshole is going to mess with me!
   

   

   Boxing
8. Expanded my palette--I developed a taste for onions and eggplant.  I still hate tomatoes though.
9. Became an aunt--Ok that one was none of my doing, but I will take credit for being the coolest Aunt to my nephew.
10. Took a trip alone--On a whim back in 2007 I went to visit a friend in Norway who I hadn't seen in 7 years.  On another whim in May I went to an American Bar Association conference in Nashville where I knew no one.  Both trips were amazing!
11. Graduated from college and law school--I put this in here for you, Mom.  Comprehensive Honors in college too!
12. Passed 3 Bar Exams--This one I'm pretty proud of.  I took and passed New York, Massachusetts and New Jersey ON THE FIRST TRY.  No, I did not waive in to any of them.  I'm a master bar taker.
13. Became an Israeli citizen--I now have 2 passports and 2 awful passport pictures--booyah!
14. Started a collection--Matches, because they're classier than lighters. I have tons of candles and matches are much more practical than the miniature pig figurines I collected when I was 8.
15. Became a scotch drinker--Macallan 12, 18 if you're buying.

    

    Scotchy, scotch, scotch!

    
    
16. Got a car--Believe it or not, the car I got at 26 was my first car ever.  
17. Got into a car accident--I crashed my new car a year after I got it.  I'm fine and it's fixed.
18. Went to an NFL game--I went to my first NFL game last year.  We had Sky Box tickets for a Giants/Jets game because we're cool like that.
19. Went to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade

    

    Perfect seats for the parade

20. Went to Hawaii--Granted it was my Honeymoon, but my ex's disdain for pictures of us together coupled with the fruity boozy drinks and marathon reading sessions left me with memories (and pictures) of amazing things that I did alone.  I can't complain though, without him, I wouldn't have had all of these great pictures of myself!  
21. Took a trapeze lesson--I did this for my 25th birthday and it was thrilling!  I've never felt so old as I did at 25 and 2 days when every muscle in my body was throbbing.
22. Rode a horse on the beach--I did this for my 26th birthday in Israel.  The wind was whipping through my hair, I was one with my horse and we galloped off into the sunset until the tour guide yelled at me in some Hebric (Hebrew/Arabic gibberish that I couldn't decipher) and I had to turn around.  
23. Rode a camel in the desert--Do you sense a theme with large animals?  I had ridden a camel back in 2000 but in 2010 I took my mom on a 4 hour camel ride in the Negev in Israel.  This time my tour guide was nice enough to let me frolic on my own for a while.
24. Became a Spinning Instructor--I finally found a job where I get paid to yell at people!  I stopped being an instructor when I injured my lady bits--true story!
    
25. Started writing songs--I've become infamous for humorously rewriting the words to songs for special occasions and singing them poorly in front of audiences.  
26. Partied with Guidos down the Jersey Shore--Learned how to fist pump too.
    
27. Re-pierced my navel--At 19 I decided I was too cool to have a belly button ring anymore.  At 27 I decided I wanted it again.  I'm still rocking it.
28. Started a blog--I had one years ago but it pales in comparison to this one.

Now I have to start thinking about what I'm going to do before I turn 30.  Any ideas for me?

Why Do I Attract Stalkers?

DJ has quickly become another one of my stalkers.  One of the men who just lacks the ability to let go. For some reason, I seem to attract nut cases.  At first I worried that "like attracts like," "birds of a feather flock together," and the other sayings that would mean that I'm crazy as well, but I'm chocking it up to bad taste in men and a great time in bed (ha, I'm kidding!  The first nut case barely even got into my pants!).  Really, it's because I continue to engage these men after they've gone off the deep end.  I need to ignore them better.  Regardless, it makes for some funny stories.

Cry Baby
My first stalker was an old high school boyfriend, Cry Baby.  In the summer after 10th grade I went away for a month on a trip to Israel and Europe.  I came back with a new perspective on life, a desire to date Jewish boys and promptly dumped him.  Cry Baby's teenaged heart was crushed and (since it was back in the pre-cell phone days) he would incessantly call my parent's house in an effort to get me to back.  He told me he wanted to hurt me and made some terroristic threats on the country where I had just visited.  One day, Cry Baby called my parents house and my brother, who is 8 years older than me and at 5'8" was significantly larger than my pint-sized former paramour, picked up the phone.  Cry Baby was crying (hence the nickname)and begged my brother (through snot rockets and hiccups) to let him speak to me.  I picked up the phone at the same time I heard my brother boom, "Stop crying you f*cking pussy!  You think I'm going to let you speak to my sister after the pathetic crap you just spewed out?!  If you bother her again, I will kill you, do you understand?!"  Have I mentioned how awesome my brother is?

ESPN
I didn't deal with another stalker until years later.  ESPN was the man I dated immediately before I met my ex-husband, who, as you might guess, worked at ESPN.  I had broken up with him but he was determined to win me back.  He spent a month calling and texting me, emailing my friends to ask them to talk to me and even told me he would have proposed if he had had a ring.  It got so bad that a law school friend who used to work for the FBI, offered to get me a gun for protection.  Thankfully, I was living over an hour away and didn't feel the need for a firearm.   ESPN finally stopped harassing me when I got engaged to my ex-husband, a mere 3 and a half months after our breakup (I know, I know...)

Ex-Husband
My ex-husband was another one who just couldn't let go.  This likely had more to do with the fact that I sprung our divorce on him like it was a surprise trip to Disney World than anything.  That, and the fact that we were married and had vowed to spend our lives together, he presumably loved me very much.  But since actions speak louder than words, we'll go with the surprise factor for the reason he couldn't let go.  I won't divulge too much (you know, because I'm nice and/or because I've blocked out the entire messy divorce process from my memory) but he actually had the nerve to ask my parents (in the courthouse, immediately before our divorce hearing) if they could get me to reconsider my decision.  Dude, let it go.

Teacher
Teacher was someone I dated for a few weeks in October.  He was a single dad of 2 daughters and a high school English teacher. I told him I wasn't ready for anything serious, as I was just starting to date after my divorce.  I'm very into baking and arts and crafts and had given him some good ideas about things to do with his girls.  I told him that I was baking a cake in the shape of a turkey for Thanksgiving because my nephew loves it (I'm not going to lie, I do too, it's a freaking awesome cake mould!).  Then he tells me how excited he was that we would be spending Thanksgiving together--me, him and his kids.  Umm, WTF?!  I quickly ended things after I realized that he wanted an instant wife, step mom and mother (for himself) all in one.  He freaked out and sent me the most grammatically correct scathing emails that I was overwhelmingly impressed and scared at the same time.  I ended up filtering his emails, threatening a restraining order and commenting that a restraining order might affect both his teaching job and his custody situation.  He emailed me a few months after to apologize and ask to grab some coffee.  Umm, no.


BR
I wrote about BR here and here and a few other places that I'm too lazy to link to.  He begged for a second chance and I gave it to him even though I wasn't really feeling a connection.  Fast forward and I realized he was relationship stupid and I was attracted enough to him to fix it.  He didn't go off the deep end, per se, but he wrote me email novellas as to why we would be good together, how he could change, how my feelings weren't justified, etc.  He finally stopped when I ignored enough of these emails and deleted him off Facebook.  Just last month though, he sent me a Facebook message congratulating me on the Bar Exam and making a comment on how we should get back together.  No thanks.


DJ
I worried that DJ would also go off the deep end, as he seem unsatisfied with how I broke things off.  He seemed like a very even keeled man though so I sent him a final email explaining some things I hadn't previously mentioned and how they were non-negotiable for me.  I stated that this would be the last of the discussion and wished him luck.  Surprisingly, it was not the end of the discussion for him.

He told me that he respected my decisions but wanted to argue his way and change my mind.  Umm, WTF?!  That's no where near respecting my decision.  I continued to ignore his emails and text messages and hoped it would go away...until yesterday.  I was out with friends when I received a call from a florist.  My heart sank.  I knew that DJ had sent me flowers.  For a man who claims to have paid attention to me, he must have zoned out on the conversation in which I told him, "I do NOT like flowers.  They shed and die and smell.  I especially dislike roses.  I think they're an overpriced waste of money.  Please never get me flowers."  Of course, he got me flowers, lots of them, with roses.  The arrangement was topped with a pleading note and about a zillion "xoxo's" before his name.

"One drink is all I ask :) xoxoxo :insert name here:"

That wasn't the end of it though.  A few hours after the call from the florist, DJ called, asking about the flowers.  I sent the call to voicemail and I thanked him via text. I told him there was nothing to discuss and wished him luck.  He called again and was sent to voicemail.  Dude, get the message already!  

He then proceeded to berate me via text message and email about how I'm a terrible evil person and how he at least deserves an explanation as to why we can't live happily ever after together.  "I at least deserve to sit down with you for a drink," he texted.  My response, "The only thing you deserve at this point is a padded room and a restraining order.  Leave me alone!"

Nashville Part 2: Play Something Country

I've been a bad blogger and I'm almost a month behind in posts.  In an effort to keep you entertained and to get back to blogging about my dating life, I will wrap up the remaining 3 days in Nashville with a few pictures and funny stories.  As I might have mentioned, I went to Nashville for a professional conference where I knew no one.  That's right, I decided to go to a conference alone, in a city I'd never been to, assuming that I'd meet some cool people and make some great networking connections...and that's just what I did!

The first thing I learned at my first ABA event was that lawyers love to party!  Seriously.  I had anticipated a few networking events, but nothing to the extent of what the ABA's Young Lawyers Division pulled off.  The first night there was a welcome reception at the Wild Horse Saloon, which was conveniently located next to the store where I bought my 4 pairs of boots earlier in the day.  This of course prompted me to tell everyone I met that night about the amazing sale and I was then branded the crazy girl from New Jersey who bought 4 pairs of boots in Nashville.  Which, I rationalized, is better than being known as just a crazy girl.

The Wild Horse Saloon was a blast and although I wasn't yet comfortable enough with a roomful of strangers to learn how to line dance, I did get dressed to the nines.  I knew going to the conference that the social events were "Country Snappy" attire so I packed to the best of my ability.  Knowing that I would be purchasing cowboy boots, I packed several short dresses that would be no less than freaking adorable paired with my new footwear and prayed that I wouldn't be the only one who took the dress code so seriously.  Thankfully I wasn't the only one dressed up and I found myself sucking back Jack and Cokes with lawyers from all over the country dressed in cowboy boots, cowboy hats, thick belts and plaid shirts.

I sat through some super-exciting Continuing Legal Education seminars on Friday and got done early enough to explore a bit more of Nashville.  I took a walk in my stilettos to check out the pedestrian bridge with a new friend I had made.

After a few pictures of Nashville and the beginning of a blister from my heels, I hightailed it back to the hotel to change into some more appropriate clothes for listening to live music (and cowboy chasing).  My new friend had opted to attend a diversity luncheon, which, regardless of the fact that diversity encompasses all races, I always feel strange going to, so I braved lower Broadway on my own.  I headed over to the legendary Tootsie's Orchid Lounge, where just about every country singer who is anybody has performed.

Inside Tootsie's between sets

I sidled up to the bar, ordered a beer and a pulled pork sandwich and listened to some young girl sing songs I'd never heard of.  Somewhat disappointed that this self-proclaimed country fanatic couldn't sing along, I sat back and soaked up the scene...and my Miller Lite.

It's Miller time

I was enjoying the music and had even made a new friend who was in town from Las Vegas when a fine piece of ass nice looking cowboy walked with his guitar.  I watched, and photographed, as he was setting up to sing because you never know how much US Weekly is going to pay for those "Before They Were Stars: Butt Picture Edition"...and because he had too nice of a tush not to capture.

I'm shameless, I know

The singer's name was Jake something or other.  He had a great voice, a good sense of humor, a nice ass and most importantly, he called me pretty.  This may or may not have had something to do with the fact that I was bearing crazy cleavage and had given him a big tip, but I sat there pretending that he was cursing himself for being married when he could have me on his arm.  Seriously, why are all country singers married?!

You can't see, but he's looking deep into my eyes

Jake the cutie cowboy finished his set and walked around for tips so I did what any sane woman would do.  I tipped him again (with a wink!), we took a picture together and I immediately uploaded to Facebook so my friends and family could appreciate the professional networking I was doing in Nashville.

Friday night was another night of "Country Snappy" attire but this time we had dinner and dancing at the Country Music Hall of Fame.  Naturally I would take a terrible selfie of my outfit in the mirror before dinner and then neglect to take a picture of Elvis' gold Cadillac in the Hall of Fame.  I know, I know.

The Hall of Fame was great!  Before dinner we were able to take a tour of the museum where I saw some amazing collections of costumes, cars and gold and platinum albums from the greatest country legends.  While enjoying our night of dancing, I found out that I passed the New Jersey Bar Exam which made the night even better!

Wall of Records

Saturday marked the end of the conference but not the end of my time in Nashville.  After saying goodbye to new friends and professional acquaintances that I had met, I headed out to brunch for some biscuits and gravy.  I had heard that biscuits and gravy were a southern delicacy and from the moment I had arrived I was salivating over the thought of tasting these treats.  I headed over to Puckett's and took a seat at the bar before helping myself to their buffet brunch.  I gorged myself on biscuits and gravy (to die for!), bacon, sausage and a bunch of other stuff that my mouth literally just watered thinking about (gross)...and a Bloody Mary to cure my hangover.

Hair of the dog...

By the time I finished brunch and got back to the hotel, it was time for the most exciting thing to happen--Greta (from Dating Without a Net) came to party with me!  The two of us had been sending each other excited text messages all week leading up to our meeting (because we're weirdos who met on the internet) so it was super awesome (and a relief) when we discovered that we were both normal (and totally awesome) people!  Then our other internet friend, Jessica, came to party with us and again she was normal and awesome--yay!  Greta's friend came up from Atlanta and the 4 of us hit up the town!

Just a sign, there was no soliciting, discreetly or not, done that night

So as not to incriminate anyone, the main highlights from our crazy night out include Greta kicking her shoe over a balcony at my hotel (causing me to pee in my pants--no joke, I was on the floor laughing and wetting myself), all 4 of us riding a mechanical bull (Greta and I were in skirts because we're classy like that) and a 2am trip to Waffle House where I wanted to smack everyone for being so damn friendly! We were definitely "those girls" at every bar but it was an awesome night in Nashville with great new friends and I can't wait to go back to Music City!

Nashville Part 1: These Boots Were Made For Dancing

It's taken me almost a month but I'm finally recovered enough from my trip to Nashville to write about it.  I went down to Nashville for an American Bar Association conference.  After a particularly heinous day at my former job, I received an email about the conference and jumped at the chance.  Between the country music, cowboys and warm weather this trip promised (and of course, hot topics in the law lectures) I booked a flight and hotel within minutes.

Before my flight to Nashville departed from LaGuardia airport, I had already made fast friends with two lawyers from Montreal.  After they told me that they were attending because of the social events and explained how last year's conference in Vegas went down, I knew it was going to be a good weekend! 

My first order of business upon arrival, aside from getting my official conference name tag and CLE calendar, was to find me some cowboy boots.  I asked the bellhop where I could buy some boots and he explained, in a slow southern drawl, that a store called Nashville Cowboy was having a "Buy 1, Get 2 Free" boot sale.  If his accent hadn't caused me to melt on the spot, his mention of a sale certainly would have.  I gathered my composure and scooted my booty over to the store.

I found myself in a leather scented mecca of all that is good and holy about cowboy boots.  They were red, brown, black, white; studded and stitched; stacked 3 deep, 10 feet high and 50 feet long.  At that point my life changed and all events would be divided into BCB (before cowboy boots) and ACB (after cowboy boots).  Ok, I'm kidding (sort of) but it was an overwhelming experience.  

Boots, boots and more boots!

I walked in knowing that I would leave with 3 pairs of cowboy boots.  Although I'm a lawyer (and infamously bad at math), I'm also a woman so I know that a Buy 1, Get 2 Free sale equals 3, yes 3, pairs of boots.  You're probably thinking, "Who needs 3 pairs of cowboy boots in New Jersey," in which case we must not have been properly introduced, (Hi, I'm Emily) and the answer is ME!  I need 3 pairs of cowboy boots in New Jersey!   My parents had already pledged to buy me a pair as an early birthday gift (July 6, thanks Mom and Dad!) so the fact that I could get 3 pairs for the price of one was too good to be true! 

Between my indecisiveness and "retartoes" (I have notoriously bad feet that have been operated on multiple times in the past 15 years) I knew this was going to be a daunting task.  The store was almost empty so I enlisted the help of a nice salesgirl to guide me through my boot selection.  She informed me that I needed at least one pair of brown and one pair of black boots, obviously.  I immediately fell in love with a dark brown pair with turquoise stitching that would match my straw and turquoise cowboy hat.  Pair one settled.

In an effort not to bore you with my thought process I will fast forward 2 hours, 1 packet of almonds, 6 mirror self-portraits and countless text messages to my fashionista friends and mother.  It turns out that the most difficult decision to make is deciding which pair of buttery soft goat-leather boots (yes, they're made from goat skin) should be the 3rd, as I had found 4 pairs of cute cowboy boots that didn't mess with my sensitive feet.

As I hemmed and hawed over whether to put back the caramel colored or the shorter boots, I heard a voice whisper, "The 4th pair is 40% off."  I turned to see an angel in tight jeans and cowboy boots.  Saving me from the despair of abandoning a pair of boots, I jumped up to hug him from my crumpled place on the worn wood floor (where I was likely having a conversation with the boots to decide who was coming home with me) but he was gone.  As I questioned whether this intese spiritual moment had been real, my angel reemerged, from the stock room no less.  He explained that he was the manager and would be pleased to give me 40% off the 4th pair seeing as I was having such difficulty deciding.

Caramel, Dark Brown with Turquoise, Black cut outs, short tan suede and dark brown leather (From L to R)

I choose to believe that he gave me a discount because of my overwhelming beauty and not my everlasting presence in the store or their existing sales policies.  Regardless, I left with 4 pairs of boots-- 3 as an early birthday present from my parents and one that I bought on my own.   After just 3 hours in Nashville, I was ready to take on the town and headed back to the hotel for a Welcome Reception that requested "snappy country" attire.  

  

Seriously?! Pictures That Shouldn't Be Used in a Dating Profile

After a few months of online dating, I've seen more than my share of dating profiles.  My emotions have run the gambit from being offended to entertained to horrified.  My list of things that I don't want to see on a profile is long.  Below is a condensed version...partially so that I don't come off as a picky betch but also because I like to list things in tens. 

Photos I don't want to see on your dating profile:

1. Your guns (weapons)--I can appreciate guns.  I will even go to a shooting range with you (once I determine that you're not some psycho who's going to kill me).  Heck, the fact that you have a gun is a good sign you're normal (ironic I know, but you can't get license for a gun if you have a criminal record), but I don't want to see pictures of you with an automatic weapon in hand. 
2. Your guns (muscles)--I'm glad you work out.  If your muscles are so impressive that you have to show them off, then I should be able to see them in pictures of you wearing normal clothes.  If they're not impressive enough to see under clothes, why are you showing them off?
3. Alcohol--One picture out at a bar holding a beer is acceptable, but please have have a decent picture without a drink in your hand.  If you're kissing a bottle of booze in one of your pictures, you've got issues.  If you're kissing a bottle of booze in a liquor store, I will only repond so that I can provide you with some social resources for your alcoholism (see Social Resources tab above for links).
4. Outdated pictures--I don't care how great your senior high school portrait was or how hot you looked in that college football uniform.  If your pictures are more than a few years old or you live for those quarterback glory days, move along.
5. Professional photos--Even if the photoshoot you posted wasn't for the purposes of an online dating profile, I'm going to think it was...and I'm going to wonder what kind of person you are.  The exception stands with models (why are you online dating anyway?) and young professionals (like lawyers) who use their law firm profile photo...but still, do you not have any other decent pictures?  Along these lines is posting pictures wearing the same outfit--If you're wearing the same clothes in every picture on your profile, move along.  It's obvious you had one "hot" day and made a friend take pictures of you in a few different settings for effect.
6. Offensive things you think are funny--While you may think that your Halloween picture dressed as a Sheik slitting the throat of an Rabbi is funny, I can assure you that it's not.  There are ways to show your sense of humor without offending people...and if you can't then you're just an ass.
7. Action shots--I'm glad you play golf, football and hike, but pictures of you as a tiny speck on a mountain or your contorted and/or blurry body playing sport don't impress me.  Hunting pictures (common in the Southern states) are a no-no for me too.  I like men who hunt. I think it's sexy. But I don't want to see you posing with a dead 8-point buck.
8. Selfies, mirror shots, and web cam photos--There's a whole website dedicated to the mirror shots (here) so I won't even touch those.  Please, leave your house, meet up with a friend and have them take some pictures of you...just don't wear the same outfit in each one (mentioned in Number 5 on this list) or be participating in some sport where I can't see your face (Number 7 on this list).
9. Exes and/or rings and/or kids--We all have exes, some of us were even married.  I don't care how tan or hot you looked at the time, no one wants a pic of you on your honeymoon with your wedding band on and your ex cropped out.  If you're a single dad, I'm sure you love your kids, but you're not doing yourself any favors by posting their cute pictures on your dating profile.  I have strong feelings on personal privacy and you're violating them.  Pimping out your offspring for a date does not highlight your parenting skills.
10. Pictures of objects--No pictures of cars, houses, boats or pets. None of these things show me who you are, unless you're materialistic or look like your dog.  A man who recently emailed me had a screen shot photo of a MyPeriod app--apparently he ovulated on February 24th...and March 2nd.  Fertile guy.
    
    

    

    Actual screen shot from his POF profile

Second Chances

I recently got an email on Plenty of Fish from JD, the attorney who got drunk on our first date and tried to get me naked.  He asked me for a second chance.  Usually I don't give second chances to men who have tipped the douche-o-meter scales, but JD happened to email me on a good night...and after a nice glass of wine.  While my first inclination was to send him a "Who do you think you are?!" email, I thought back to our date (read it here) and remembered that before we had imbibed that 11% devil beer, things were going well.  In fact, just an hour before I drove home in a fit of rage, I had texted my friend to tell her what a great night I was having.

I admitted to myself that he wasn't fully to blame for the things that occurred that night.  I had drank more than I should have on a first date and, as much as it might have seemed to be one sided in my post, I was a willing participant of the corner table make out session.  Judge me, I don't care, you know you've done it before too.

Anyone who knows me (or has read this blog) has likely gotten the correct impression that I have an offbeat and borderline inappropriate sense of humor.  My post about Steak and BJ day might give you an indication that my sense of humor is at risk of being misunderstood by men as forward advances for sex.  Add alcohol into the equation and it can be a recipe for disaster.

JD was cute and witty and the fact that he came back with his err, tail, between his legs showed a lot about his character too.  I decided to give him a second chance...but not before messing around and asking how he intended to redeem himself.  After some witty banter in which he promised to keep a 2 foot radius between us; make me smile; laugh and keep to a 2 drink maximum, we made plans to meet at a local bar on Saturday night.

When I got there I was instantly relieved that I gave him the benefit of the doubt.  He was cuter than I had remembered, his arms looked sexy in the shirt he was wearing and, most importantly, he didn't look once at the ample cleavage I had intentionally displayed.

We had a great rapport.  It was the kind of knowing conversation that you can only get after you've both acted like drunk idiots and talked about the mistakes you've made.  He admitted he was too embarrassed to contact me after our first date, I admitted that I had drank too much on our first date and we laughed at the fact that our make out session gave the Russian pimp at the table next to us a semi.

We stayed long enough to have a great time while sticking to our 2 drink limit. With our first date redeemed by the second, JD walked me to my car, joked about giving me a handshake, like the gentleman he promised to be, then gave me a sweet goodnight kiss.  This was a second chance that was well deserved!

Dating Games (Part I)

My friend, Greta, from Dating Without a Net, and I are playing a dating game.  We rationalized that since we keep picking the wrong men for ourselves, we will pick dates for each other via Plenty of Fish.  Figuring that this plan cannot be any worse than the system we currently employ, we provided each other with our zip codes (I live in NJ; Greta lives in TN), dating radius, a few non-negotiable attributes and gave each other free reign.  


The rules were to pick 3 men from our respective geographic locations who fall within the set criteria (who we haven't dated), email, secure a date with at least one and, of course, blog about it.   Greta and I set to work yesterday, but the first task of finding potential dates was more difficult than originally anticipated.  


While I thought that I had a tough time navigating through the hoards of wanna-be-guidos, the dating pool near Greta posed its own challenges.  In her neck of the (back) woods, I found most of the men to be either in the public service or transportation industry (read: cops/security guards and truck drivers) so it was a good thing that education wasn't a deal breaker for Greta (note: education wasn't a criterion of mine either--we tried to make the pool as large as possible).  I found may of the men in her tri-state area of Tennessee, Mississippi and Arkansas to be redneck hillbillies that even this country-lovin' girl wouldn't let buy me a beer um....unimpressive.  


Up here in NJ, I deal with men who swathe themselves in the Italian flag, rock fake tans and faux hawks but these men are no match for Greta's potential suitors.  Between the mullets, missing teeth and hunting prize pictures (I stopped counting after 5 dead animals and one hog-tied pig), I can see why she's having trouble picking the right men.  There were a few attractive men, but they either hadn't been online in months or Greta had already dated them.  Our exchanges went a little something like this:


Me: Here you go--let me know if you've blocked or already talked to them: Johnny, SomeDude, OtherDude.
Greta: I emailed Johnny a while back, wanna switch him out for another?  Here are yours: HotDude, BeachDude, SarcasticDude.
Me: I've already met and um, hung out, with HotDude.  We're good friends.
Greta: No way!  The foot fetish guy?  I thought he was the hottest and totally my type.. you go girl!  I'll pick an alternate for you.
Me: No, the guy with the tiny dog.  Don't know if I told you about him.  He drives that hot truck and is super sweet.  No foot fetish.  Ok, sub BadCop for Johnny---if you haven't already talked to him.
Greta: Good one but BadCop guy hasn't been online since October! #notthatmanyfisharoundhere  Ok, sub this LawyerDude for the HotDude.
Me: Ugh, LawyerDude is "JD" the one who got drunk, said he wanted to swing and tried to get me naked!    I blogged about it here.
Greta: Omg, you have dated every guy in NJ already either that or we totally have the same taste, Let me try one more time...
Me: Ok, so what about Sean? Aside from the weird dog pic, he's pretty cute.  Hamm looks promising too, although I see a radio on his lapel (are you done with dating cops?)
Greta: Sean is the cop I went out with on Friday!!  lol  Ok, last try, have you dated NJman?
Me:   NJman is kind of old but we're running out of options.  Is Sean the cop whose partner got shot while you were on your date?!   What about Tim?  Might be a freak--not a good face pic but his tattoos are kind of sexy.  Or what about Frank?  He kind of looks like a meth head but he has a Masters Degree so it might just be the highlights in his hair that are throwing me off.  OMG we both need to move! 


After way too much time surfing Plenty of Fish, Greta and I have our dates nominated.  I emailed my 3 potentials--BeachDude, SarcasticDude and NJman--and now we wait.  

Giddy Up

I swore off dating lawyers after both my ex-husband and creepster, JD, who tried to undress me on our first date.  But, since I tend not to listen to myself very well, I started talking to another attorney, who I will just call Lawyer NYC, a couple of months ago from Plenty of Fish.  He is a cute intellectual property attorney in NYC with a sexy geeky look who, aside from having a penchant for calling me "counselor," did not appear to be a complete weirdo.  Between the Bar Exam and his jaunts down to visit family in Florida, we haven't had the chance to get together but have graduated from emails to text messages. 

We've corresponded at length about going to school in the Midwest, having dual citizenship and international travel--all things we have in common.  When the subject of music came up, I made sure to tell him I like country, as that seems to be a dealbreaker for some close-minded individuals.  Their loss--I go wild wearing a cowboy hat--yeehaw!  Lawyer NYC seemed open to my music taste (brownie points) so we continued talking.  I even sent him a picture of me from the Rascal Flatts concert when he asked how it went. 

I've been busy over the past month and texts between Lawyer NYC and I have died down.  This must have struck a nerve with him because I started getting strange text messages from him filled with legalease and 2am invitations for hot chocolate.   A little strange, but nothing that I couldn't get over. 

However, over the past week, I must have really been on his mind...and I'm starting to wonder what he's doing with my pictures.   While I'm glad that he's open to my love to country music, I think he might be putting the cart in front of the horse.  Sexy text messages can be appreciated in certain instances--like after a number of great dates and a satisfying romp in the hay--but not before an in person meeting.  That's just weird.  From the sounds of it, Lawyer NYC might be a really fun rodeo cowboy, but I think I'm going to pass.

Blame the Ex!

One of the best things about taking a Bar Exam (aside from the obvious ability to practice in a specific jurisdiction if you pass) is celebrating the end of the exam.  For whatever reason, last time I took the Bar there was no big hooplah after it was over to celebrate the months of hard work I put in.  For those who are wondering, I took and rocked both New York and Massachusetts in 2009, while planning a wedding AND prepping for an international move.  While my friends were jet setting off to get drunk in exotic locales in 2009, I ordered pizza or participated in some other decidedly anti-climactic activity that I cannot recall with my now ex-husband.

This time, I was determined to have a better post Bar Exam celebration. For those not in the know, you must take a Bar Exam for every state (unless you can waive in).  So, even though I'm licensed in NY and MA, I must take NJ as well. 

While an exotic vacation wasn't financially feasible, I planned the second best thing--a weekend in NYC with my amazing girl friends.  As it turned out, a friend of mine, M, had recently relocated to NYC from San Francisco and she was also taking the Bar Exam.  Knowing that we would be stressed to the max and celebrating in NYC after the Exam, M and I invited some girl friends from law school down for our semi annual law school girls reunion weekend--woohoo!

After a harrowing two months of exchanging encouraging but increasingly frantic emails, text messages and phone calls, M and I took our exams our girls weekend began.  Two of our friends (L and N) arrived from Boston and the four of us took to the streets of Manhattan.   We had a blast catching up on life, reminiscing about law school and talking crap about former friends (yes, horse-loving-trust-fund-sour-puss, I'm talking about you!). 



Just a funny pic from SoHo--intended for no one in particular.



The best thing about my weekend with my girl friends was discovering their fierce loyalty.  Although we've been close since 2006, I realized that these women were true friends as they stuck by my side through my divorce this summer.  Now that I'm starting over and moving on, their devotion to me has been realized through a fun game that they made up over the weekend called, "Blame the Ex" (i.e. my ex--his name is used for the purposes of this game in in real life, but I will protect his privacy over the internet because I'm nice).   Note: none of the following are actually his fault.

Any foible in our weekend got chocked up to the fault of my ex even though none of these things could be attributed to him.  Traffic in the city? Blame the Ex!  Long line at the bathroom?  Blame the Ex!  N got food poisoning?  Blame the Ex!  Flight back to Boston was delayed 5 hours?  Blame the Ex!

By the end of the weekend we had six-pack abs from laughing so hard, way too few pictures, plans for a summer get together and a super fun blame game! 

View from Sutton Place--our future homes (after we all marry millionaires)



Why Can't We Be Friends?

The Bar Exam and ensuing drinking fest have rendered my blog with some abandonment issues lately.  My blog hasn't been the only one feeling abandoned though.  BR, the man I met online whose entire wardrobe is from Banana Republic (yet still needs better jeans, by the way), spent last week sending me books worth of emails.  While this usually wouldn't be an issue, this was on the heels of our my "let's just be friends" conversation.

It's a strange thing, the "let's just be friends" conversation, as it can go several different ways.  To be honest, the conversation is usually less of a "let's just be friends" and more of a "I'm blaming my divorce on not wanting a relationship with you because I still can't find those big girl panties and tell you I'm just not that into you" one.  Until I met BR, this conversation resulted in either an understanding conversation resulting in never hearing from the person again or a caustic bitching out about how I'm a terrible human being.  BR did something entirely different--he called me out on it and then proceeded to analyze what went wrong.

After weeks of awesome emails and a great first two dates, BR and I got along well, but I was starting to wonder whether we had the chemistry I was looking for.  I figured the 3rd date would be the deciding factor as to whether things would progress further (i.e. get freaky by the end of the night).  However, after dinner and drinks, I realized that this wasn't going to be the third date that he likely had great expectations of...if he had expectations of getting freak nastier than an awkward make out session on his couch listening to Joss Stone...yeah.  Note to men: If a woman tells you that country music makes her panties drop, it's usually a good idea to put on said panty dropping music to put her in the mood.

After an awkward 3rd date, I did what any woman recently back on the dating scene who wishes to avoid an uncomfortable conversation does.  I told BR that I wasn't ready for a relationship and got off the phone quickly.   As expected, he sent me a follow up email, but instead of wishing me luck or telling me that I was a raging bitch for leading him on, he called me out and analyzed our dates.  He cited the awkwardness of our 10th grade make out session that he also felt that something was "off" between us.  Great, nice to know you think I'm a bad kisser too.

Then BR sent me a few more emails examining our 3rd date that made me question *just* how many therapy sessions he had been to over the years.  While a bit of a behavior breakdown could be helpful in working though what went wrong, he took it to a "Dear Diary" level.  Fortunately I was too busy trying not to freak out over the Bar Exam to respond, ignored the onslaught of text and planned to let things naturally fade out.

Unfortunately, my good plan was foiled when, on the second day of the Bar Exam I got caught in the most horrendous traffic on my way to the test.  After traveling 8 miles in 45 minutes, the possibility that I would be late and miss the exam became a harsh reality and I had no option but to ditch the highway for surface roads...through none other than BR's town.  Not knowing the town well, I unsuccessfully consulted Google Maps (jerks) and started to panic.

I sat in traffic in an unfamiliar town with less than 20 minutes until the exam started and my panic turned into a full on freak out fit of hysterics.   In a moment of desperation, I picked up the phone and called the only person who could help me navigate through the back roads of whereever-the-hell-I-was.  I called BR.  Why he picked up the phone after I had ignored him for two days, I will never know.  Truth be told, neither does he, as he later wrote in a long email entitled "Panicky Blonde" detailing his thought process and internal negotiations as to whether he should pick up the phone  (except he said this in about 3 times as many sentences as my quick summary)   

There's nothing as humbling in the dating world as ignoring someone and later having to rely on them for something.  I gave a quick, "Ok, I-know-I-owe-you-an-explanation-but-I'm-late-to-the-Bar-Exam-and-got-stuck-in-traffic-and-now-I'm-lost-in-your-town-and-freaking-the-fluck-out-so-can-you-please-please-please-help-me-out?!" intro.  Thankfully, BR took pity upon me and guided me through his town, down a surprisingly not so ghetto MLK Blvd and to my Bar Exam.  I got off the phone realizing that if he had wanted to date me before my call, the chorus of "fluck, fluck, fluckity fluck!" that I shouted in between hysterical sobs would have solved that issue.

BR was nice about my call and we spoke at length over the weekend about our new friendship.  While he's still not convinced that there can't be something there, we are proceeding as friends.  I figured anyone who was nice enough to help me in a Bar Exam crisis after ignoring him for days is someone who could be a good friend...or at least a novella writing penpal.

High Five

I spent the weekend finishing up studying for the New Jersey Bar Exam.  It's been a rough and lonely few months and I desperately missed my friends so I decided to get out of the house yesterday afternoon and met up with my friend, Katie.  Katie is the type of friend who I can always count on to go out and have a good time.  Whether it's taking pictures with vertically challenged diner bus boys or scaring away creepsters at a bar by telling them I'm pregnant, nights with Katie never disappoint.  Not to mention, she shares junky bar food with me.

So, when Katie told me to get my butt invited me to the Brick House yesterday to watch the Daytona 500 with her and a friend, I was happy to take a study break.  Beer and soft pretzels are enticing, but add in an excuse to dress up like white trash and I'm there!   Katie also promised there would be cowboys at the bar--liar!

Disclaimer: I do not actually own a camouflage thong.

While there were no cowboys as promised, there a group of Jersey trash boys to keep us entertained.  Katie knew one of the guys in the group through a former roommate and I can safely say she either does not hang out with these guys or is lying to me so that I don't judge her.  Yes, it was that bad.  I could describe the night as a sequel to Why I Don't Date Men in Their 20's but I'd hate to give the rest of the cohort a bad name because of three specific individuals.  So, who did I meet last night?  Let's call them High Five, Chinstrap and ThugLife.

High Five was the mutual friend of Katie's former roommate and the seemingly most normal out of the bunch.  He was dressed in a non-matching sweatsuit (as opposed to the guy wearing the matching Nautica sweatsuit who bragged that he had spent $150 on the look), had pretty blue eyes that could just be made out through his heavy drunk eyelids and a penchant for high fives.  He and his friends had come from a bachelor party in Atlantic City where the groom-to-be (or someone else, I really have no idea) got arrested the night before.  High Five spent half of his time at the bar telling Katie's friend how he used to be in love with her (she's married now) and how he wishes he could have slept with her before she was betrothed.  Apparently, Katie's friend's breasts are just "too big to be married off".  Charming.  The other half of his time was spent trying to kiss me.  In his defense, at least he asked first.  

High Five: "Can I kiss you?"
Me: "No, thank you."
High Five: "Why?"
Me: "Because you're drunk."
High Five:  ::sips water:: "Can I kiss you now?  I drank some water.  I'm not drunk."
Me: "No, now you just taste like water."
High Five: "That seems fair.  High Five!"


Chinstrap was an um, strapping (?) 26 year old fellow with full arm sleeve tattoos, a fancy shmancy hoodie and of course, a chin strap of facial hair.  He sidled up to our trio of ladies and started talking about something boring or stupid enough for me to have mentally checked out of the conversation from the get go.  After a while he asked what I did and I said I was a non-practicing attorney working in legal recruiting.  This opened a Pandora's box for Chinstrap who proceeded to tell me that he was a teacher who works with "retards" (his words, not mine) but that he is planning on taking the LSATs, going to law school and getting a job as a School Board attorney making $400k a year out of law school.  Awesome, I told him and wished him luck, mentioning that the legal market is pretty tough right now...and that I have a better chance of being a size 0 than him making $400k.  Some people are under the impression that an attorney's billing rate is directly proportionate to their salary.  This is not the case. For the record, billing $400/hour does not mean you will be making $400k a year.

Of course this didn't sit well with Chinstrap who proceeded to berate me loudly in a diatribe of "You don't know me...I'm the most motivated person you'll ever meet...I've got two Masters degrees from University of Phoenix at 26!....I'm gonna get a job as a School Board attorney and make $400k a year because my Dad's friend owns a firm and is holding a spot for me and I will be making that money straight out of the taxpayers pockets...so ha!"  Right.  I smiled, sipped my water and watched as his friends dragged him outside for a breather as I discussed with Katie how "You don't know me" is code for "I'm ignorant and don't listen to what other people have to say."

I gave Chinstrap a few minutes to cool off before going outside to talk to him and clear the air.  Wanting to be the bigger person (and not wanting to get my ass kicked on the way to my car) I told him that it's great that he has delusions of grandeur dreams, wished him luck with his legal career and suggested that some anger control might serve him well with adversaries in the future.  One thing I pride myself on is being able to insult people without them realizing it and so I told Chinstrap, with a smile, that his early success as a teacher (um, he has two Masters degrees from University of Phoenix, yo) has made him very confident but that he is too arrogant and obnoxious and good lawyers don't pick fights with sober women in bars.   He apologized, offered to buy me a shot (I declined) and gave me a high five.

At the conclusion of my makeup session with Chinstrap, ThugLife joined the conversation excitedly, "You're a lawyer?!  I really could have used a lawyer when I was arrested!" Then he told us that he was arrested for beating up the police officers who came to arrest him with a warrant.  He failed to mention what the warrant was for, but justified his actions with the question, "What else was I supposed to do?"  Um, anything but run and beat up the cops would probably suffice.  So I explained that I wasn't a practicing attorney, lest someone give him my name and he asks me to represent him.

During the conversation the group was waiting on the bartender for drinks and ThugLife declared, "If you were a real lawyer you would have been able to get us drinks by now with your sneaky ways."  While I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, I had run out of patience with the crowd of degenerates and snapped, "My chosen profession has little effect on my ability to get a beer for a drunk thug at a crowded bar.  If you want a drink, get it yourself.  I'm drinking water and have little desire to wait on you."  Cue another round of, "You don't know me....I'm more successful than you'll ever be...I even own my own company!"

I smiled, of course, and said, "Good for you for making the best of a situation where you were unemployable." At this point I was getting frustrated and Katie was giving me the don't-poke-the-big-stupid-bear-just-because-you're-smarter-than-him look.  Thankfully, ThugLife had taken anger management courses and took my low blow as a compliment to his resourceful nature....then he looked at my boobs, smiled and offered to buy me a shot, as the bartender had stopped by to see what the ruckus was about.   I respectfully declined, smiled and gave him a high five.