Circle of Death

Allow myself to introduce...myself. I will go by Jade. Thank you for my new name, Miss Pants. I am fun, spunky, age is a number (so, don't worry about it), and I may or may not enjoy long walks on the beach.

What makes me think I can run this party train like the one and only who oh so cleverly spoke what all of you were thinking? I will do my best, with the help of my trusty sidekick, She-Wolf Queen. I am not talking about cameras following us around at our favorite watering hole while we dub ourselves as "reality show worthy." I am just talking about spilling some oh-so ridiculous stories for your reading pleasure. Come to think of it, that story may be worth telling at some point...depends on how exciting I am.

Recent events have made me become more detail-oriented. So, maybe I should be saying thank you to several men, but I am not going to just because I don't have to- so there.

Picture it-you walk into a drinking establishment to have A BEER with your ladies and Hottie McHotterson catches your eye...you catch his. He maybe gives you a "I am going to walk over to you-is that what you want" look. You nod or wink (yes, what you do says a lot about your style and we might judge you), as he slowly approaches. You ignore the first lame comment because he is not wearing white tennis shoes and the conversation begins. Later you decide it was not that great, but in the moment you are picking out the names of your children because he 1. actually graduated from college 2. has a cute smile 3. has a job 4. might have reliable transportation 5. is not wearing white tennis shoes 6. actually lives in Birmingham. He may even be asking you questions and seem genuinely interested. 10 or 15 minutes pass and things are still moving along great. Oh yeah-asking for the phone number. I am singing the "I have a date song" in my head and yes, there is a song. But wait...your friend nudges you in mid-conversation to whisper the last words you want to hear...wedding ring, as we appropriately now call it "the circle of death."

Of course. Of course. No. Surely not. I would have seen it. I will be looking for you now, circle of death.

No way he would have wanted to know about my parents and asked for my phone number! Oh, yes..I forgot. This is how it works-par for the freakin course. I try to hard and of course.

At this point, my friends have been trying to listen in on the conversation and more or less mocking me being flirty the entire time I have been talking to Tiger Woods. Not that they do not wish I found the man of my dreams, but it is usually "pee your pants" funny to watch one of your good friends flirt with a random. "Oh yeah, there she goes. Just watch her." I have to go to the group and spill it-directly after I let Tiger have a piece of my mind (in a very classy, I am a big-talker kind of way).

"Seriously? Are you kidding me right now," I say as I hold up his hand with the tarnished wedding band. He pulls the "I thought you knew card." Last time I checked I did not have x-ray vision into your pockets to see where you have been hiding that ring. I also did not check because you were asking me questions about myself-I get to talk about myself and you were successfully prestending like you were interested...I am not paying attention to your mysterious hand. "I mean, you just talked to me for about 10 minutes and got to the point where you asked for my number-and you are married? I mean-wow. Just delete it." He tells me that he is sorry and that he will give me some time to think that one over and then he disappears into the crowd.

I UNLOAD on my friends as they laugh hysterically and give me the pity looks. A few say he wasn't that great anyway.

Ouch. Yuck. Disgusting. Never hear from him again...OR

every 10 to 15 minutes for the next 2 hours I get texts asking me to just talk to him or just hang out with him and that it is not that big of a deal. He claims to never do this and that I am making a big deal out of nothing.

DELETE MY NUMBER FROM YOUR PHONE! Surely I will hear nothing now.

8:23 AM: "Sorry again about lasy night, but I don't see why we cannot just text."

pathetic.

ME: "You should be and delete my number from your phone. I feel really sorry for your wife."

It worked that time. The sad and even more pathetic part of this whole story is that it was just the beginning of the married men thinking that they shold see if they "still have it." Nothing wrong with seeing if a girl will talk to you, but when you ask her for her phone number and send waaayyy too many texts after she has established and reminded you that you are a douche, don't keep trying. Go home to your wife and attempt to be a good husband. If you are going to wear the circle of death, bring the wife, stay home or just don't be an idiot. I mean, I'm just saying.

Too much? Cut me some slack. I can talk a flee off of a dog and I am not sure about this whole blogging journey I am embarking upon, so don't judge me yet.

xoxo, Jade