From Leavenworth to an Impromptu Date

As most of you know, I spent last weekend in Leavenworth for Oktoberfest. Six of us—Bri, Kevin, Kristen, Adam, Larisa and myself—rented a condo within walking distance of downtown and brought plenty of food and booze, a couple of sexy costumes and good tunes—the perfect recipe for a party weekend away from home. Being the wild and crazy group of friends that we are, I knew the weekend wasn’t going to disappoint. After too much vodka, a trip to the local bar and a mishap with some harvest vegetables on Friday night, we woke up with killer hangovers on Saturday morning, but refused to let them drag us down! We ate breakfast with a side of jello shots and Bloody Mary’s, changed into our sexy German gear and headed to town.

It’s always baffling to me after days like this, where the day went and what the hec I did the whole time. I know it was a mish-mash of drinking authentic German beers, eating pretzels, dancing the chicken dance in attempts to swing arms with the sexiest man at the festival, taking trips to the Porta Potties, schmoozing with sexy men and getting our photos taken with random, drunken people. (I’m worried about how many different people’s camera I’m really on). We must have taken at least 30 photos with the Leavenworth background cutout, and finished off our night with Mexican food and more drinks at a couple local haunts. The weekend was most fantastic. Oktoberfest in Leavenworth is something that should not be missed. I’ve been to the celebration in Fremont for the years past, but this by far took the cake. Read why I think the Leavenworth Oktoberfest was so much better than the one in Fremont here.

As most of you have read in the previous post, a gay friend of mine sent a photo of me in my German Oktoberfest wear to his friend in an attempt to set us up. (Unbeknownst to me). The straight guy sent a photo of himself in lederhosen at Oktoberfest back to me, and we ended up chatting a bit over email yesterday. In one of the emails, Lederhosen Nate talked about how he and his friend got a lot of attention for their outfits, then sent this photo to me:

I looked closely at the photo and laughed out loud—his friend in the photo was the Little German Elf that Kristen, Larisa and I took at least six photos with! We ran into him in a beer tent and LOVED his outfit, which immediately caused us to molest him and take tons of photos with him. I sent the photos of us with the Little German elf to Lederhosen Nate, who thought it was equally as funny. Apparently, we had just missed each other and spent all day in different beer tents. To think about how one moment changes life…

As yesterday wore on, I received another email in my inbox—This Friend wanted me and Lederhosen Nate to meet, and I was to join them for dinner at Elemental at Gasworks around 8pm. Nothing like an impromptu date. How random and weird is my life sometimes? So, I skipped the gym, skipped the soccer game I was supposed to go to Sarah with and ran home to change into my best “non-German girl” outfit. I’d previously heard of Elemental from a friend. It’s a super exclusive, expensive and swanky restaurant with only 20 seats. This Friend is acquaintances with the owner and chef, so we had a special little table reserved for five, apparently quite a rare occasion. How lucky—a random date night at a classy little restaurant—and free, for that matter.

My first impression of Lederhosen Nate without his lederhosen was: Cute! Nice! Well Dressed! As shallow as it is, Sarah and I both expressed our worry about the possibility that he could be wearing tapered jeans. I mean really, every photo sent to me was of lederhosen or shirtless, so it’s hard to tell if he’s going to have his style guide together or not. (I hate to admit it, but it’s a huge deal breaker for me. So lame; I know.) FYI: He totally passed. He was wearing nice jeans with great leather dress shoes, a cute faded grey T-shirt and a nice brown blazer over it. (A girl’s favorite combo.)

The chef started bringing out small plates, one by one, each accompanied by a new glass of wine that matched the culinary treat. I couldn’t drink my wine fast enough before it was being replaced with another glass of red or white! We had shrimps with a creamy dill sauce on top a small little puff pastry, amazing pork in a nutty green sauce and pomegranate seeds sprinkled on top, braised beef with soy-flavored noodles and bok choy, garlic flan with roasted artichoke, spicy gnocchi with pine nuts, three different desserts, etc., and countless glasses of wine.

By the time the night was over, we’d lost two of the five of us to extreme cases of wine drunk, and This Friend was talking grandiose wine-induced schemes and demanding that Nate and I go to a bar to continue our impromptu date. As fate would have it, the date wouldn’t continue with just the two of us, but we talked about getting together again—in costume—at a German bar to play The Boot Game with friends. Whether this chance happening that all started with costumes in Leavenworth results in little Gretchen and Greminwald babies or not, I couldn’t have asked for a better impromptu date.

Currently Feeling: Like I need to seriously buckle down before Halloween.
Currently Anticipating: My little sister coming home next weekend so we can got to Canada and go to a bar together! Yikes! (She’s 19 today)
Currently Loving: The randomness that life is sometimes.

It’s a Simple Story

While recently watching 90210, Brandan Walsh made a statement that seems so easy and too good to be true:

“It’s a simple story. Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. If girl gives boy half a chance, boy gets girl.”

Oh, how insightful art thou Mr. Walsh. I knew there was a reason I turned out the way I did after watching the show religiously since the age of 10. However, I seemed to have lost sight of a few things throughout my wild and crazy 20s. If only I could revert back to the days when all my dating know-how and information came from the elegant and rich teens from West Beverly High.

But I can’t, so tell me. Does the story work both ways? Is it just a simple story for girls?

If I meet boy. And I like boy. If the boy gives me half a chance, will I get boy?

Currently Feeling: Bizored in the hizouse.
Currently Anticipating: Um. Let me think… San Diego?
Currently Wondering: Why I’ve got to be on such a bad streak. God damn you Jesse-CO!

Code of the Girls

This was today’s FOUND Magazine post. It was discovered between the pages of a fantasy art book at The Goodwill in Connecticut:

I’m sure you saw this one coming, but it inspired me to create my own Code of the Girls. Dear faithful, faithful lady friends, please abide:

Currently Feeling: Really effing frustrated.
Currently Anticipating: Get the eff out of Bumbershoot hell this weekend and into glorious 80-degree weather.
Currently Wanting: Nothing more than a Dick’s cheeseburger and a strawberry shake. Mmmm.

I saw you, you saw me, we made love under the coconut tree

This might be devastatingly cliché Seattle, but I long to see my description within the entries of The Stranger’s I Saw U ads.

I check it every week. Half reading them for the romanticism missing in my life, quarter reading them for the entertainment value, quarter reading them in hopes that I’ll notice a location I was at, or a description that could quite possibly, maybe just a little, be me…

Hottie in the red VW!
I was in the black VW & our little rally down I-405 Saturday gave me a freakin’ chubby! I wish you’d have taken my exit …wish I’d have followed you to yours. Wanna do it again, but with a better ending?
When: Saturday, August 25, 2007
Where: I-405 South, Bothell to Bellevue
I saw a: Woman
I am a: Man

Ok. So, I drive a red VW, but I wasn’t racing anyone on I-405 last Saturday. And that giving a guy a chubby part is a little freaky, but still…. It’d be fun and saucy to read an I Saw U about yourself, huh? I think I’d cut it out and hang it on my fridge.

I know, how embarrassingly narcissistic of me. But, to me, it’s oddly romantic, reassuring, flattering… Just once, I want to know someone noticed me like I noticed them. I want to stand out in a crowd. I want someone to admire me. I want to have proof that I’m not floating through this city, retreating into the crowds of people who perhaps look all the same, dress all the same, think all the same…

I want someone to recognize that I’m an individual. I’m different.

And I knocked them off their feet.

Currently Feeling: Incredible, incredible shopping remorse.
Currently Anticipating: Labor Day weekend. I need a mini sun vaca.
Currently Watching: Season one of Beverly Hills 90210.

Dubliner Man Crush gets his haircut: love blossoms

When I lived in Fremont with Amanda, the two of us would frequent The Dubliner every Wednesday for $1 well drink night. It was incredibly, incredibly hard to pass up a chance to get wasted off $6 and then walk two blocks home. So, we made sure to never miss out. Let’s just say we were thrifty. One night, an incredibly good-looking man immediately caught my eye. Oh boy. I couldn’t stop staring. I was smitten—he was gorgeous. After a lot of coaxing by Amanda—the perpetual flirt—I finally went over to him, and we had a short butterfly-ridden conversation. This was before my “all you gotta do is put it out there and they’ll bite” days. Oh. To be naive and innocent again.

I went back, week after week, hoping to catch a glimpse of my Dubliner Man Crush. One night, he walked in the doors on the arms of a former high school nemesis (that snatch licker!) and my hopes and dreams were crushed forever. Until, a year or so later, I ran into him again at Peso’s with a mutual friend. Of course, he didn’t know who I was, but I immediately recognized him and couldn’t believe my good luck—if he’s friends with this friend, and I’m friends with this friend, then I most surely have more of a chance than before. Right?! Well, occasionally, I’ll run into him with her. But, I can’t really bring myself to say hi, or flirt, or do anything else besides stalk him on MySpace. (Where I learned he has a great job, owns a house, and likes to snowboard and wakeboard. He also has a comment list full of beautiful, cute and gorgeous women.) You don’t have to tell me that it’s creepy I SpySpaced him; I already know.

So, a couple months ago I stopped into Lucky Seven on the LQA for a haircut. Immediately my stomach did a flip-flop—there was my Dubliner Man Crush, seated in the salon chair, one away from mine. It was only the two of us in the salon with our hairstylists. The four of us had a couple brief conversations and interactions where I tried to be my ridiculously, ridiculously clever, witty and funny self. But before long, he paid and walked out. As soon as he left, I let out a big sigh, “I’ve always thought he was so good looking and have had a little crush on him for years,” I said.

“Joey?!” his hairstylist exclaimed. “He comes in all the time. He’s a really good guy and has a great job and all that. You should ask him out! I’m pretty sure he’s single!”

“Oh, I’m too shy,” I replied, soon after which I paid for my haircut and walked out.
I immediately called Amanda and had a conversation with her somewhere along the lines of, “Fate, fate, fate and more fate, don’t you think it’s fate? I’m pretty sure it’s fate. What are you up to, did I tell you it was fate?”

Last week, I returned for another haircut. About ten minutes into it, my hairstylist looks over and says, “Oh yeah. The next time Joey came in, we asked him if he remembered you, and he said he totally thought you were cute and was checking you out. He said to give you his phone number, but I don’t know where we’d find it… you should give us yours, we could play match maker and set you guys up! We have to figure something out!”

“Ha! A little salon love,” I said, mostly joking because the thought of actually putting myself out there and calling him after all these years made me instantly feel queasy. “I can tell everyone that I met my husband in the salon chairs.” (No, he’s totally not gay! What made you think that?!)

So today I received a phone call from an anonymous 206 number. Naturally, I screened the call. When I listened to the voicemail it said:

“Hi Jeanna, it’s Shane down here at Lucky Seven. Um, give us a call when you get a chance. We have something for you,” to which I heard a very manly, hearty laugh in the background. Possible Dubliner Man Crush laugh?!

I eventually worked up enough nerve to call Shane back, waiting for enough time to pass so he wouldn’t be around still. (See, I can’t even bring myself to call the same building he’s in and talk to someone standing in the room with him. How would I ever go on a date with him?!)

Sho enough. Joey left his number to give me. And he said that if I want to text him my number, he’ll call me cause he wants to take me out. Oh jesus. Can I do it? Am I too shy? Will I be able to get through a date with him without wanting to pass out from nerves?!

I don’t know. But something tells me, after three years of Dubliner man crushing from afar, I just might have to take the chance.

Currently Feeling: Giddy and nervous.
Currently Anticipating: Brewery bike ride with the Dolphin Sisters this weekend.
Currently Wondering: Who would ever put black olives in spaghetti?!

Thoughts on three of them

I read a fellow blogger’s thoughts on three men in her past. And it seemed cleansing and like reckless heart abandonment. So, I figured, Jeanna could always use a little cleansing. It helps me get a little closer to exactly what I want and need in life, eh? One more step in solving the puzzle…

Here’s my take on her ex-orcism:

_________________________________________________________

I don’t miss how my family didn’t like you and would never have shared my love for you. I don’t miss your constant need for reassuring in everything in life: yourself, your job, your personality, my love. I don’t miss standing on a curb, waiting to see your car come pick me back up, feeling like the world was falling out from beneath my feet. I don’t miss never explaining or justifying myself enough to others when they wondered what I saw in you.

I miss that out-of-control love that I’ll never feel twice. Cause I’ll never be un-jaded like that again.

_________________________________________________________

I don’t miss knowing that I could never convince you that we were perfect together and would have been happy, well, forever. I don’t miss feeling like the smallest flaw in myself meant that I was not the perfect person you imagined spending your life with. I don’t miss feeling like I’d rather die than live life without you.

I miss eenks and wobbles. I miss feeling like I was the luckiest person in the world. I miss our after-softball-game ritual. I miss that plate of lemon bars you’d leave for me in the fridge. I miss your silly love poems and that goofy face you make when you play the guitar. I miss looking at you when we were sleeping and feeling like you were perfect and there was no way I could ever love someone so purely, completely, wildly again. I miss loving someone purely, completely, wildly. You are the only man to truly capture my heart.

_________________________________________________________

I don’t miss how your actions never matched up with your words. I don’t miss the constant letdowns and disappointments. I don’t miss feeling like everything was left unsaid, but if I would have said it, it wouldn’t have mattered. I don’t miss knowing that I was never going to be the woman to snag you, that being crazy about you was always to remain unrequited.

I miss our naughty text messages. I miss setting the alarm an hour early before you went to work. I miss feeling like I couldn’t get to your house fast enough and the butterflies in my stomach might cause me to float up and fly away. I miss that crazy, crazy chemistry. You made me feel sexier than any man ever has.

_________________________________________________________

Awww. Phew. That felt great. Now, here’s the real challenge for those of you who feel like you know the ins and outs of me… name the three.

Currently Feeling: Impatient. Just let it all out.
Currently Anticipating: Caitlin’s going away at Kell’s tonight.
Currently Reading: The Things They Carried.

These ex boyfriends, they’re silly sometimes

In an email exchange with the ole ex today, these two comments were made:

I get a psychic sense that it’s going to take a major life change for you to meet the man of your dreams.

My bet’s on you and your mind making a new start and going to California with an achin’ in your heart.

Psychic premonition, happenstance, really good guess, gut feeling, silly comment, a way to quote my all-time favorite Zeppelin song? Who knows. But, it’s interesting just the same.

My response?

Meh.

But this. I remember this. I want this.

The more I become involved with blogging, the more obsessive I get and the wider my circle of “Blogs I Read” becomes. Metroblogging Seattle, Seattlest and Slog are all great about linking to other local blogs to point-out interesting posts around our community of bloggers. We’re all self-sufficient, for the most part, so why not support each other? One local blogger, Gluten-Free Girl, recently got married and Seattle Metblogs posted a congratulatory link to her wedding post. I skimmed through the post, mostly because it was long, and mostly because I don’t know this person enough to read about her wedding. However, at the end, a thoughtful commentary about what she remembers most about her wedding caught my eye. With dating and relationships always on my mind, I thought it spoke well to what I, and most of my girl friends, want. Plus, it’s so beautifully and eloquently written with love that it made my day a little bit more sentimental and bright. Enjoy…

I have so many memories of the wedding. Well, quite clearly. There are a hundred dozen more that I could never record here. It’s all too elusive, like the light slipping from the sky outside the window as I write this.

But this. I remember this.

I was never a girl who imagined her wedding. I never wanted to be a princess. I never imagined my gown or fixed on how everything should look.

In fact, for much of my life, I never thought I would get married. Not that I didn’t want it. I wanted it. But all through high school and college, I felt like the ugly duckling. Plump and ungainly, a bookworm in vapid southern California in the 1970s and 80s, I just never thought I could be loved.

Even when I grew out of that phase, slowly, I didn’t have much chance to meet good men. I didn’t go on my first date until I was 21 years old, and even that was awkward. (Now I know: how could it not be?) I fell hopelessly in love with every young man who seemed to have a decent brain and made me laugh. For awhile, life seemed an endless array of hopeless crushes, all deeply felt and unrequited.

And then I was a teacher. No single man crossed my path for years at a time.

When I lived in New York, I made up for lost time. Flings and big relationships both. Finally, I felt like a woman. I let go of the notion that I could never be loved.

But I was in my early 30s. Easy predictions in the media said that a woman had more chance of being hijacked by a terrorist than marrying in her late 30s. I grew indifferent. It would never happen.

And then I was in a terrible car accident. And in pain for nearly two years. And then I grew sick with celiac.

And then I was reborn.

After I was diagnosed, and went gluten-free, I felt it in my gut: I needed a year to myself, to be with this new self, before I started dating again. I met the Chef four days to the year after I had been diagnosed.

And then I was reborn again.

But through it all, even in the years when I thought it would never happen, meeting that man who would love me entirely, there were moments I believed. And it always happened when I heard Stevie Wonder’s “For Once in My Life.”

Throughout those years, I danced. In my living room alone. In clubs in New York. In the car as I drove to where I needed to go .Whenever that song came on, I danced. And immediately, I always imagined playing it at my wedding, dancing with that unknown love.

And then I would cry.

At our wedding, the Chef and I danced to a slow song, something meaningful to us. Truly, it wasn’t much more than the seventh-grade shuffle. We didn’t care that everyone was watching us.

But the second song on that mix? “For Once in My Life.”

When I heard the first few notes, I thought I would start crying. But the Chef grabbed my hand. And he started twirling me.

There we were, in our own back yard, on the green lawn, everything green light and trees, that blur of green that can only come when you’ve given yourself to the world and you don’t mind which way you are spinning. And we twirled. I lay out my arm to the side and let the force of the spin take me, whichever way I would go. I felt his hand in mine. I twirled and twirled, faster and faster, laughing.

I looked down at my red cowboy boots, spinning quickly. I saw the grass brush the hem of my dress, staining parts of it green. I didn’t care. I was dancing with my love, after a lifetime of dancing alone. With his hand in mine, I could give up gravity for a moment, give up knowing the best way to be, give up all those hopes and dreams. And just dance with him.

I saw of blur of faces around me, snatches of color. People I loved, someone with a question, a face open wide in laughing. I felt his hand, and I danced.

We laughed, and we danced, to the song I always imagined at my wedding.

And in the end, it feels like that is how life will be, with him. A sometimes dizzying spin of images: the smell of great food in the air, people we love gathered around us, the feeling that we might fall. And we will go around and around, again and again, in a circle that feels different each time, but not really. Sometimes, I will want to close my eyes and not take in so much. Sometimes, I will want it all to slow down. Sometimes, I might worry that the song will end.

But through it all, in this whirr of brilliant, beautiful images, in the middle of this twirling circle, will be the feel of his hand in mine.

Currently Feeling: A ulcer-esque nagging stomach knot. Blech. Too much drinking? Not eating properly? Too much coffee? Who knows.
Currently Anticipating: Little Miss Sunshine at Redhook Brewery tonight with everyone!
Currently Loving: That I’ll be basking in 90-degree weather this weekend.

I want to evolve organically

I can’t tell you how unsettled I am lately with some peoples’ life-partner choice. Is it just me, or is the world full of 80 percent bad couples and 20 percent good? I can honestly only think of maybe three couples who I’d want to model a relationship after. Now that we’ve been out of college for three or more years, it seems everyone is in the race to find someone they can settle down with or tie the knot with their long-term college sweetheart. A lot of people measure their success by plus or minus one and can’t move on from a relationship that’s terrible, while everyone on the outside is going, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

I feel like some people just have relationships fall into their lap and are bouncing from one commitment to another. Frankly, it gives me the heebie jeebies. What happened to healing, discovering yourself and your mistakes, and waiting for something genuine to come along? Maybe I’m too picky and know what a great relationship is supposed to feel like, so I’m less likely to kangaroo myself into a new one every six to eight months. I’m what I’d like to call a Healer. I need a healing period after dating someone. A little Man Break. A time to collect my thoughts, figure out what happened, and just forget the whole stress and hubabaloo for a minute before picking up the pieces and moving on to the next one. It’s becoming increasingly more real to me that I probably won’t be getting married before I’m 30. If you would have told me that a couple years ago, I probably would have grabbed the edge of the couch to brace myself and breathed deeply into a paper bag. But now, I feel it’s much more realistic than settling.

However, I’ve been known to get occasionally down on myself for the whole “perpetually single” thing. But then I rationalize my life Carrie-style, and say, “I have a great job, apartment, car, friends… “Why does one-minus-a-plus-one feel like it adds up to zero?”

Good point. It shouldn’t. But, sometimes it just does. Can we chalk this up to societal pressure of what a successful person or woman has—the perfect, successful relationship?

Today I ran into a celebrity quote from this month’s issue of Cosmo. Celebrities. Wow. What a junk show. They’re in bad relationship from bad relationship, entering rehab, getting DUIs, puking up their food, flashing their va-j-jes. Why should I listen to what any of them say? But, this one struck close to home:

“I think women get caught up too much in having a plan – I’m going to get married at this age; I’m going to have a kid at this age – and then they just try to find a guy who will fit into that picture…I don’t want my life to be based on that. I would rather it all evolve organically.”

Wow. That’s it. I want to grow. I want to never look back with a life of regrets. I never want to say, “What if…” I don’t want a cookie cutter life, nor do I want to run away from anything out of fear.

I want to evolve organically…

Currently Feeling: Frustrated with the job search. I’m feeling REALLY impatient.
Currently Anticipating: DOTL tonight. So super serially excited.
Currently Loving: The dog days of summer.

Catching Up on this busy life of mine

I’ve slacked on blogging…so sorry readers. It’s proven to be more than a challenge to keep up on the three blogs I’m maintaining now, and I’ve let my poor little Memoirs fall to the wayside. But, I’ve been doing so many fun things still! Here’s an update for the last weekend/week. And I promise I’ll try to write more frequently, starting next week.

Last weekend: I pretty much lived in my bathing suit. How fabulous was last weekend’s weather, and where the hec did it go? Saturday I attended Vanessa’s Hawaiian Barbeque Bunko party. She was as Suzie Q Homemaker as ever and decorated her whole house with Luau decorations…we even had coconuts to drink out of, Hawaiian t-shirt beer cuzies, leis and straws with Hawaiian flowers. Vanessa sure does know how to throw a themed party. Ever played Bunko? It’s the game that’s sweeping the nation, you know. I had never played until Vaness threw a Bunko party last year, [memoirs] and now I’m totally hooked. I can’t wait to be 85 and just play Bunko every week. I didn’t win, however, it was worth hearing Amanda brag about how she pretty much shouldn’t leave the top table cause she’s so good at every game she plays and always wins, then she was the loser. Her present was an embroidered Bunko t-shirt that Vaness’ mom had given her. How fantastic. Amanda wore it the next morning—after sleeping in it all night—full of Stella’s kitty fur to Noah’s Bagels and Jamba Juice, and I pretty much wanted to disown her, but whatever.

Sunday I spent ALL DAY lying by Josh’s fantastic pool at his new apartment in Madison Park. I’m pretty much going to be spending my whole summer there, if you guys wonder where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing. It’s a heated, outdoor pool on Lake Washington with tons of tables and lounge chairs. And it was fantastic.

Monday: Sarah and I checked out the new restaurant on top the hill, Betty. You can read my review of the new Queen Anne joint on Metroblogging Seattle. [site]

Tuesday: My little sister graduated from high school and it was pretty much a waste of three hours of my life. Hell, I want to support her. But, I just can’t stand sitting and listening to lame speeches and 500+ names being called. Thank little baby Jesus that I have cell phone games. I never play them, but they came in handy during the three-hour ceremony. My parentals are throwing a big graduation party this weekend for her, complete with a catered menu and live music. Should be a good time, let’s cross our fingers for good weather. My sister will now be a WSU Cougar. Congratulations Ashy!

She’s the beautiful brunette: back off boys!

Wednesday: Sarah and I went on a blind double date. It was beyond entertaining. While we keep most of our Internet dating blogs to a private blog, I’ve posted this date below since it was too entertaining to pass up.

Thursday: I went on my second date with Jesse from Colorado. We caught dinner at Wasabi Bistro and then walked to SAM for first Thursday. The new museum is BEAUTIFUL. Seriously. I love it. And it’s now included in the free first Thursday art walk, which is quite a steal since I think admission prices are around $35. The museum has an awesome collection of modern art—my favorite. A few Lichtensteins are on the walls, which was pretty cool to see. I also enjoyed the exhibit that displayed art focusing on hardships of the modern world—that was some beautiful stuff. Anyway, Jesse from Colorado seems to be a keeper. I’ll keep you posted…

Friday: Boo yah! See yah! I’m going home to nap, read and party this weekend. Love ya!