A few months go by, and ironically I had still not so much as seen or heard anything about *him* - which in a town with a population of 152 it is down right unthinkable to not hear about or see someone.
It was a Thursday night and the owner fixed a pitcher of his infamous Cosmopolitans and he and I sat around after closing for a bullshit session. He starts in saying that he knows of a few men around that he thinks he could set me up with, and why haven't I taken advantage, meaning started dating, the few guys he had seen hit on me. "You need to find a farmer with money and grab him up before someone else beats you to it" he says. I told him that the whole game of pursuit and conquest does not interest me in the slightest. I described how cheap and gross it makes me feel to get hit on. I said "The day a man is confident and honest enough to walk up to me and say 'You're pretty cute, can I have your number?' I'll give him my number but until I can meet a man that can be that honest, I don't have time for games.
The next night was very busy, and by the end of the night all I wanted to do was have a Blue Moon and play some Pantera on the juke box. I am in full cook garb; Hanes T-shirt with food stains on it, a pair of black nurses scrubs (like working in pajamas they're so comfortable), Birki clogs with beer batter and various other sauces spattered on the toes, and a black bandana on my head. I walk out of the kitchen and belly up and grab the Blue Moon and start counting my change to see how many Pantera songs I can play. Next to me is one of the servers a petite little thing that always has hair just so, nails done and the most fashionable outfits on, the perfect example of society's definition of "hottie". (Don't get me wrong, we were great friends; no hostility intended.) I look to my left and see this guy with these arms at the end of the bar, and have to second look. We make eye contact for a second and I look away because I could feel my face getting red; I felt as if I had been struck with a lightning bolt. A few seconds later I hear him ask the guy next to him, a very good friend of mine, "Who's that? Can you introduce me to her?" My friend, we'll call him Clutchman, replies with a chuckle, "Oh no, man. If you want to meet that one you're going to have to introduce yourself. She's different." Well, my insecurities got the best of me and I instantly think that they must be talking about the gal I'm sitting next to, because considering my current appearance, there is no way he's talking about me. "Oh well", I think, "at least I have enough quarters for a couple songs". I make my way over to the juke box, passing Clutchman and *him*, start putting quarters in the slot and *he* walks up to me and says, "You have a really nice smile, and I think you're pretty cute, can I have your number?" Instantly I was 13 and giggly, "Bartender, can I get a pen?"
Monday, March 26, 2012
Saturday, March 24, 2012
They say you never know what you've got till it's gone. I disagree. I knew exactly what I had.
I fell in love with the best man I ever knew, and he fell in love with me. It was instant. A connection that has not died. We could talk without speaking, make love with a glance, know each other's thoughts by posture. I am not sure how I have made it these 8 months, 5 days, 12 hours and 2 minutes without him.
We met in a bar. I was the chef of a small, but busy restaurant out in the middle of nowhere MN. I guess I should tell you first how I came to this town. I have lived in, currently, 13 states. I moved to Minneapolis in the early summer of 06. I bounced around, as per my norm, between a couple different jobs. Had a pretty good saute cook job, I mean the people I worked with were allright, @ the most horribly named Sunshine Factory restaurant. I was in a relationship that I am not even sure why I was in it. I didn't love him, I had no respect for him, but it was there. I got tired of where my life was NOT heading. I started to look for another job somewhere else.
I found a restaurant hiring for a chef in a small town south of the Twin Cities, named Dennison. My parents had moved to Dennison, OH just a year or so prior. So, what the hell, I thought, maybe it's serendipity. I applied. A few days later I drove down for an interview. As I was pulling into the parking spot my car flipped 100,000miles. I walked in and met an older couple @ the bar, while I was waiting for the owner, that had the same names as my parents and were drinking the same beer my parents drank then when they went out. I sat down, looked up and saw a t-shirt that said "F U Fireside University" (the name of the restaurant is Fireside Lounge). If you know anything about me, and obviously up to now you do not, you would know that I found that hilarious. So I went through the interview, got the job (of course LOL), and moved down there a few weeks later, starting on my 34th birthday.
Some months went by and it turned to winter; MN winter that is. I was working 10-12 hours a day 5-6 days per week and had two dogs that I hardly spent any time with, so I patheticaly (is that even a word?) tried making up for it by buying them bones from the local butcher shop. One day I was going to drive over to the shop during my lunch break. It had snowed quite a bit and I am not known for always being the most observant person, so I drove around what I thought was the back way. It turns out I was driving on the snow-mobile trail! By the time I realized it I was committed. I could keep going in my Hyundai Accent until I really got stuck, or I could stop and get myself out. I stopped, got my floormats wedged under my front tires, put it in reverse and gave 'er hell!
Meanwhile, the guys in the butcher shop - I had not as of yet met *him*, I had met his friend (we'll call him) Sparky and the owner - could see me out the window. They thought I was Sparky's girlfriend because she had a car very similar to mine at the time. They started getting their Carhartts and boots on to come out to rescue the damsel in distress, but by the time they got out there I was already out and gone down the road.
I fell in love with the best man I ever knew, and he fell in love with me. It was instant. A connection that has not died. We could talk without speaking, make love with a glance, know each other's thoughts by posture. I am not sure how I have made it these 8 months, 5 days, 12 hours and 2 minutes without him.
We met in a bar. I was the chef of a small, but busy restaurant out in the middle of nowhere MN. I guess I should tell you first how I came to this town. I have lived in, currently, 13 states. I moved to Minneapolis in the early summer of 06. I bounced around, as per my norm, between a couple different jobs. Had a pretty good saute cook job, I mean the people I worked with were allright, @ the most horribly named Sunshine Factory restaurant. I was in a relationship that I am not even sure why I was in it. I didn't love him, I had no respect for him, but it was there. I got tired of where my life was NOT heading. I started to look for another job somewhere else.
I found a restaurant hiring for a chef in a small town south of the Twin Cities, named Dennison. My parents had moved to Dennison, OH just a year or so prior. So, what the hell, I thought, maybe it's serendipity. I applied. A few days later I drove down for an interview. As I was pulling into the parking spot my car flipped 100,000miles. I walked in and met an older couple @ the bar, while I was waiting for the owner, that had the same names as my parents and were drinking the same beer my parents drank then when they went out. I sat down, looked up and saw a t-shirt that said "F U Fireside University" (the name of the restaurant is Fireside Lounge). If you know anything about me, and obviously up to now you do not, you would know that I found that hilarious. So I went through the interview, got the job (of course LOL), and moved down there a few weeks later, starting on my 34th birthday.
Some months went by and it turned to winter; MN winter that is. I was working 10-12 hours a day 5-6 days per week and had two dogs that I hardly spent any time with, so I patheticaly (is that even a word?) tried making up for it by buying them bones from the local butcher shop. One day I was going to drive over to the shop during my lunch break. It had snowed quite a bit and I am not known for always being the most observant person, so I drove around what I thought was the back way. It turns out I was driving on the snow-mobile trail! By the time I realized it I was committed. I could keep going in my Hyundai Accent until I really got stuck, or I could stop and get myself out. I stopped, got my floormats wedged under my front tires, put it in reverse and gave 'er hell!
Meanwhile, the guys in the butcher shop - I had not as of yet met *him*, I had met his friend (we'll call him) Sparky and the owner - could see me out the window. They thought I was Sparky's girlfriend because she had a car very similar to mine at the time. They started getting their Carhartts and boots on to come out to rescue the damsel in distress, but by the time they got out there I was already out and gone down the road.
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