The Name Game

Could date a person with the same name as you? It is an odd question that truly applies to LGBT people. Could you date a guy or a girl with the same name. If I was chatting up a guy named Steve, I'm unsure how I would feel. Yes, there's the lame joke about screaming out your own name during sex, but seriously? I think I would really have mixed feelings whether I could ask out a guy named Steve.

What about dating? Would we be known as "The Steves?" Like when inviting people over to a fabulous dinner party one host would turn to their partner and ask, "Should we invite The Steves?" Or, when you are living together, a telemarketer calls and asks to speak to Steve. I've know Kathy and
Kathie, like the "y" changes things. I've known a Jim and a Jimbo, and a Mike whose handsome life partner was Mic.  I really am curious how these couples know what Christmas stocking to grab on Christmas morning. How narcissistic would it be to stand around at work on Monday morning talking about how much fun you had with Sue.  "Sue is soooo great at rock climbing. Sue is such a great cook, Saturday Sue made Spaghetti alla Carbonara."

What about dating a person with your Dad or Mom's name? Do you really want to quietly whisper your Dad's name into the ear of someone who passed out on top of you after hours of sweaty sex? My Dad's first name is Wilbur , so.... no trouble with that. I've never chatted up that hot bro leaning against the bar to find out his name is Wilbur. Would it be okay to be sitting at Thanksgiving and telling the family your new partner is also named Linda. "Linda and I are really romantically compatible."

Is it a deal breaker?

Come on Spring

The weather here in Denver has been teasing us the last couple of days.  It has been giving us full Spring time realness. I personally have been picking up what Mother Nature has been laying down. Yesterday, after hand washing my Jeep.... well, holding the spray nozzle to one spot as I watched a shirtless dude detail his Porsche. Slowly caressing the fenders, with his massive hands. Leaning over in his gym shorts-sans underwear... Uh, yes. Washed my jeep...

After that adventure, I took the shiny 4x4 to Cheeseman Park, for some of my own shirtless time. This marked the first time for 2015 where I was able to relax in the park. My summer plans consist of as much of this activity as possible. Bring on Spring. 

Chasing Shakespeare

I have discovered that taking a Shakespeare class, online is not the best idea. In fact it's right up there with grocery store sushi, or trying to date a straight guy.

I say this, the online Shakespeare part because no matter how hard I try to focus on the meaning and depth of William's plays, I'm finding it impossible to focus. Now, I have taken a lot of Literature classes in my time, even some involving that English playwright. Reading and understanding the guy when you're sitting alone in a Starbucks is different. And, I am finding the class very difficult.

I don't hold up much hope for making it until the last day of class, May 9th. I might chuck the whole idea. Or, it is possible I just may fail the course. I have never received to a bad grade before. Ever. But, my last grade on my, what I thought was a great paper, was "F." I was shocked. Every detail that I was marked down on, were legitimate issues. But, hyper critical in their execution.

Guess I will just try my hardest to get the remaining points I can. Shakespeare or bust. In the mean time, I'll chow down on some day old Sushi, and wait for the straight guy I had plans with to show up. 

Glassy

After buying the shiny new Jeep in June, I already have to replace the windshield. Let this be a lesson; when you get a chip in your car's windshield, have it filled/repaired.  It's a cheaper choice than buying new glass. 

Jeeps are strange contraptions. Their windscreens have the Jeep grill logo embossed into the top center, as a sun blocker. There's also a tiny Jeep in the corner, just in case you forgot you owned a Jeep. This honor drives the price for a new windscreen up by three-hundred dollars. Yeah. That's right, proprietary parts. Thanks Jeep. 

They do make other, "non-branded" windshields. These are exactly the same, without the cool factor. So, for three hundred less dollars, I'm getting the generic version. But, if you know me; you know I'm a huge label whore. So... Here's the deal. I found after-market stickers that mimic the Jeep logos. I can apply the knock-off stickers and Viola! Jeep branding!  I'll always feel like I am wearing cheap Pro Wing tennis shoes from K-Mart, but they'll look like Pumas. 

The Second Date

I am getting amazingly talented at first dates. A second date; however, is seeming to be an elusive near impossible act for me to obtain. That is to say, that I can take a guy out to dinner, act like a gentleman, talk for hours, and at the end of the date really feel a connection. Yet, even with plans made; date number two simply never comes to pass.

Last week I sat at a coffee shop and made a great connection with an amazingly hot and funny guy. Both were the youngest of a huge Mormon family, both had Texas roots, both of us were seeking what, I thought, were clear and honest ideas. In a strange twist we ended up playing together and were very compatible. Then came the discussion of the elusive date number two... He instigated the endeavor. As I have decided to let the other party involved set the tone for this act. He set the date and time. I was to pick him up at this house.... I showed up at the arranged time and place.... Nothing.
Just me on a strange doorstep, ringing a doorbell. A text was then sent to me stating that he couldn't go out.  Date two ended before it started with me texting my BFF, Mike declaring I hated boys.

Another recent turn in my dating life was when my excitement crescendo[ed] upon making plans at the end of date one, to spend date two seeing an IMAX movie. No one ever has ever wanted to go see IMAX movie with me before. So I got all excited. An actual real-life boy wanted to sit with me in 3-D glasses and watch the discovery of Space Junk or Amazonian Trees. In 3-D IMAX coolness. I felt just like when I was five and anticipated getting stuffed Ernie and Bert dolls for Christmas. Christmas found me without Ernie, or Bert. The thought of my second date drought didn't even enter my head. After all we definite plans. I sent a text to confirm, only to receive a  text hours later that they found something better to do. When asking the boy where my adult version of Ernie and Bert Christmas presents were, I was told not to be "a dick about it." Funny, that is what my Mom said on Christmas morning.

I present this strange phenomenon to you not as a problem. Just the opposite really.  A humorous observation on dating life. I am un-second-dateble.  Some day, I will get that obscure date number two... some day.

At The Car Wash

Saturday or Sunday morning, which ever day I don't work, you'll find me at the car wash scrubbing down my Jeep. It's a ritual in my world. So much so, that if the weather is going to be horrid over the weekend I still think about washing my Jeep. Of course the ice and snow would splatter up upon my shiny fenders the second I leave the car wash bay.

Last Saturday was one of those days. I got up early, stopped for a venti Toffee Nut Latte, and headed towards my favorite car wash. The Jeep was especially mud-caked due to endless snow.... and a prime muddy lot close to a friend's house that NEEDED to have my spin in circles, over and over. But, the warm weather and sun shine brought out everyone with my same idea. Saturday morning car wash.

I am not apposed to having a professional carwash, the type where you stand and watch a crew rub down you car; they just seem to never get my car clean. The drive through style of car wash are seemingly designed to be anti-Jeep. The fenders and back come out dirtier then before the flashy lights and soap streams of the water tunnel. So in my cleanliness OCD, I end up at the self-wash car wash.

I am so thankful for times like these. Complete Steve quality time with my Jeep. My headphones blasting, coffee in one hand, and a spray nozzle in the other. Washing away the grime of the week.