names have been changed to protect the *guilty*

i started this blog this morning, fully intending to share just one story. six hours later, new developments have unfolded and the story gets twice as good.

story #1:

(background: i have a history of attracting the attention of the dudes who front as upstanding mormons but are closet drunks. in most cases, i jump ship when the pieces come together. this time included. i seriously jumped ship.)

a couple weeks ago i was sitting in a meeting with a lady who lives along one of the roads we're widening. she arrived at our office with a file full of project information. on top of the file was a sticky note. it had our office's address and phone number written on it, along with the date and time of the meeting. old people, you know, are frugal... it looked like she had re-used the same sticky note from another occassion, because also on that note was the name and phone number of a dude i know who fits the criteria in parenthases above.

my eyes got big, i immediately became distracted with thoughts like, "why in the world would this little old lady have his phone number?!" what a random connection between my personal life and my work life.

i sent mr. man a text message asking if he knew this old lady. no response. no response. no response.

until sunday night. weeks have passed, by the way. what's the point of replying at this point? and how does anyone even remember to reply to a text that old? ... anyway...

our convo:

mr. man: no i don't know hilda.
aubry: whoa, delayed response. well, there's a old lady out there with your number.
mr. man: weird! what are you doing?
aubry: right now? driving home from st george
mr. man: fun what were you doing there?
aubry: family stuff.
mr. man: when will you be home?
aubry: i just left. three or four hours... why?
mr. man: wondering what you wetegonna do. (yes, it really was that convoluted)
aubry: what i'm going to do or what we're going to do?
mr. man: either.
aubry: uhh... since when did we hang out? i'm unpacking and going to bed.
mr. man: since now.
aubry: convenient timing. i can't
mr. man: you can't?
(2 second delay... but i had already starts to replyto this text...)
mr. man: bf?
aubry: right, i can't.

although i didn't intend to lie to him about whether or not i had a boyfriend, i think that's the message i sent.

who cares, right?

story #1.5

i call my mom on monday night to share this story with her, like all good daughters should.

our convo:

rebecca: wow... that guy's persistent. kind of nice though...
aubry: nice?! what are you talking about?
rebecca: well, it's always nice to get attention from a boy.
aubry: are you kidding me>!(*&^%$$#$%^ mom, he was DRUNK!!!!! if i'm going to get attention from a boy, the least i can ask is that he remembers it in the morning! there's nothing nice about attention from a drunk. he's useless. i don't have time to deal with a mess like that. if i want a boy, i want him in a practically perfect state, like me...
rebecca: dr. laura would be so proud right now.
aubry: write her a letter.

story #2

(in an e-mail to my mother...)

i just went to donate blood and had one of those "positive-attention-from-boys" moments that puts the drunk dudeto shame:

dan - the guy who took my blood, looks like kelly ripa's husband, mark consuelos or something... - was working between two people. i was directed to sit in the far chair, with my right arm exposed for blood sucking. the kid next to me looked like he was about 22 years old and DORKY. looked like a classic video game nerd. greasy hair, kind of gangely, and wore one of those flammable rayon shirts with dragons on it. oh, and white socks. dan started the pressure cuff on mr. dork-face's left arm and said, "oh shoot, it doesn't look like you have a very good vein here... i'm going to have to use your other arm." dork-face gets all scared and nervous. dan does a very diplomatic job at explaining his options. dork-face freaks out, stands up and says, "uhhh... just deal with her. get back to me. i have to think about this." after more of the same, dork-face leaves.... it's just too much to deal with. weird.

dan comes back to me. "sorry about that, that was weird," he says.

"yeah, i thought he was going to tell you that he relies pretty heavily on his right hand for his world of warcraft battles," i said.

"uhh, i'll be honest - i thought the same thing. but, did you see his shirt? it was cool. there were dragons all over it! i haven't seen that since the mid-nineties," dan says.

yada yada yada... where did you go to school? oh, really... my sisters went there... i looked in your chart, it looks like we're kind of the same age, yada yada yada.... did you see the vampire movie? isn't it a chick flick? i should start telling girls i'm deeply attracted to their blood, but love them enough to control myself... yada yada yada.

then another donor comes and sits in the other chair. dan has to deal with the both of us. he's getting her all prepped right as finish up. i quit squeezing the ball in my hand... i've done this before... i know when it's okay to stop. all the while, dan's prepping her - ya know, doing the iodine thing, etc. - but talking to me. among other things, he says, "you can stop squeezing now."
i said, "yeah, i stopped when i heard the beeping."

"oh, really... looks like you know what you're doing... like you've been here before. i guess you already know how this goes. i'll just do my job," he says, all sassy-pants like.

and then. AND THEN...

dan says, "do you ever have a song stuck in your head that is ironic for all the right reasons?"

"sometimes. not right now... but i'm guessing you do..." i say.

"yeah, i do! it's 'i want you" by marvin gaye....weird huh?" he says.

"yeah, kind of ironic."

so.... "when will you be home? i want to hang out... i'm a mad drunk" is nothing like smooth dawg dan.

that's the kind of boy attention girls appreciate. even if it doesn't materialize.

tell dr. laura that.