A few weeks ago, a friend of mine forwarded this want ad to me:
Writer in Helena, Montana
A growing US company is looking for a Writer that can deliver fun, witty and creative content. This person will start off working on a part time basis, but the workload has the potential to quickly increase. The hours will be flexible, but the writer will be required to meet deadlines. Competive Compensation . …Duties Include: Blog Entry Message Creation Profile Creation Requirements: Writing skills and experience (Witty, creative writers preferred). Flexible hours Good time management Computer savvy. Have access to a computer with a reliable internet connection. If you are interested, please contact us: HR Director : email@example.com Please use Creative Writer Needed In your Subject Line
I thought this sounded interesting so I looked into it. Virtual Dating Assistants helps people who are too busy find someone to date. Someone else writes your personal ad and then writes emails to people who chose you or who you chose. You don’t actually have to do any communication with your romantic interest until you actually see them. It’s like a Cyrano De Bergerac for the busy. I read an article where they wrote that there have been some problems when people meet and they don’t sound anything like their emails.
Part of me really wants to apply for this job. I think it would be great fun to be someone else for a little while and to flirt with a complete stranger for a couple weeks. Innocent flirting is a lost art form. I think Joey from Friends killed it with: “How you doin’?” and expecting that to carry him to a long lasting relationship.
And they are asking for creative writers. “You sound really great on your personal ad. I forgot to add that I am actually a Vampire who can fly jets during the day because the sun’s rays don’t affect me unless I am touching the ground with at least one foot. I can do a handstand during the day as well. It has to be a foot for the sun to affect me in a negative way, like death. Your skin looks so pale in your picture, which I must say is a huge turn on for a person in my position. Do you like to fly? I fly to Italy every other week and would love to take you with me. If you don’t like forward or career women, I would like you to know that when I am in my bat form, I am really meek and follow the pack.” I could really get into this.
I do not believe I will be applying, however. It would drive me nuts because there would never be closure for me. I would want to know how the date went and if there was a connection and how different my voice is compared to who showed up. I would want the date to be a reality show for me, no one else, just me. I mean, this is my baby; I should be able to see it through. I would want to know if they ended up getting married and could I go to the wedding and when he heard my voice and my undeniably brilliant wit, would he leave his bride at the alter and confess undying love for me? How awkward would that be because Kevin would be next to me and he would feel as though he had to defend my honor and then there would be a bloody brawl and I might get my really nice skirt stained.
So I won’t apply, but you should feel free. (and tell me about it)
I dedicate tonight, my first time with Zumba, to all of my previous Latin American students. (Wait. I think they are still Latin American, but previously my students.) Especially the ones who tried to teach me to dance. I spent a few nights at different clubs trying to salsa and merengue. I am sure there are a few other dances they tried to teach me as well. No matter how hard I tried and no matter how good looking my partner might be, my hips would not do the things I saw others do. I blame my parents and their parents and their parents.
I decided that I need to get off my butt and actually start moving again and the local gym offers Zumba twice a week with an open gym for my kids. My kids ran around and exercised while I tried to shake it. The wrong parts shook.
I have to admit I was laughing the whole time. It brought back so many memories of dance clubs and feeling like a complete idiot. This was even back when less of my body shook.
Right now I am listening to Ricky Martin’s latest album and thinking how much I would like to live La Vida Loca, but I’m not sure it is in the cards. I used to live above a pet store and between two of the more popular local bars. You need to remember that this was while I lived in PROVO, UT, so this was quite the scene. I went dancing in Salt Lake regularly and I danced like there was no tomorrow. I loved dancing. I did not enjoy smelling like cigarette smoke afterwards, but clean air acts have changed all that. I wonder what it would be like to go dancing again. I don’t think I would enjoy it as much.
There is something about being single, twenty, and in a dance club that makes it all fit perfectly. I remember driving the 45 minutes from Provo to Salt Lake with Tiffany after spending an hour getting ready. Getting ready for dancing was unlike getting ready for anything else. We wore shiny tops and twisted our hair every way possible. We wore dark eye makeup and dark lipstick and swore we would meet someone that night. Then we would go to the wrong dance club and end up being the only two girls there. We were poor, so once we entered a dance club, we stayed until 1 or 2 in the morning. Even in this highly depressurized situation, my hips would not shake it. It is just a sad sight when a man who obviously has no interest in you and who is dressed much better than you comes up to you and says, “Let me see if I can help you with that…” grabs your hips and tries to get them to move to the beat. After ten minutes, the follow-up reply was generally something like: “There is country dancing Wednesdays.”
Anyhow, I just had the time of my life reliving those weekends while trying to shake it once again. This time, however, I am not shaking it to attract others. I am shaking it to try to get everything that is shaking to disappear. Once again it is a depressurized situation. Maybe my hips have now matured enough to move like they should. If tonight is my guide however, maybe I should look into a country dancing exercise routine.
So what does one do
when you and your beloved don’t enjoy the same things AND you are WAY past the part of courtship where you feel the need to pretend? After I spent a weekend hunting with my hubby right after marrying him, I decided there were some things that he should experience on his own. I also decided I would never eat deer meat again. Or go camping in Northern Idaho in October. I decided a lot of things on that trip.
One might say that each doing what they enjoy without forcing the other spouse to do it as well would be the best conclusion. You, however, would be naïve. If I never went with my beloved on horrible excursions, we would probably never see each other. Tuesdays and Thursdays are kid activities and dental and board meetings. Wednesday is scouting for Kevin because he is the leader. Some Mondays are dental meetings and some Kevin just works late. It gets to the point where you schedule time together. The problem occurs when your spouse wants to also schedule things he enjoys doing with the time together.
This is how I ended up on a two person-fishing vessel in a lake while eating dinner. Kevin wanted to make a romantic dinner for two on this fishing vessel. There was a slight problem with this, however. Every time Kevin stood up or moved, I thought for sure the boat would tip. I do not enjoy this feeling. To add to this, Kevin actually fished. He picked up a worm, put it on a hook and then handed me a plate for food. Ick.
The next step is to get the worm in the water. His first cast was towards me and so I was dripped on as the line went out of the water and over my head to settle in front of me. He very graciously did not do that again.
It didn’t get better when he actually caught a fish and got it in the boat and it flapped around and tipped over his plate, the stuffed grape leaves and the salad. He was going to let the fish go but it was a decent size and after the fish destroyed my meal, I suggested it should die. So it did.
It got dark and incredibly cold and so we drove the floating vessel back to the dock. Kevin let me know how much he enjoyed himself and I told him that I was glad he did. He then made the HUGE mistake of asking me if I enjoyed myself. I mistakenly did not lie. I said that it was an “interesting” evening. He asked if I enjoyed any of it. I didn’t say I enjoyed the sugar cookie I had, that is, until I found out it is 11 weight watcher points. So now after going on a romantic fishing trip –yes, I know it is an oxymoron- the rest of the ride home was quiet. Perhaps one might say uncomfortably quiet.
So I figure fair is fair. He must now do something I enjoy that he does not. I, however, will not make the mistake of asking if he enjoys it. I do not care. As long as I get sparkle toes, he can do whatever he wants at The Nail Shop.