Pumpkins and Women in My Life

Okay, so I'll admit I'm wasted. It started with red wine at dinner with son #1 and my renter who joined us for steak and potatoes. Now things have progressed on to bourbon (which is actually whiskey as it later turns out - I'll explain). The red wine is probably no surprise to you but the bourbon might have you questioning my sanity. Of course, you're the cause of my excessive drinking but you knew that. Actually, it all started with your friend, Spindle, since you introduced us. Let me clarify and elaborate.

As you may remember, Spindle came to my place on Halloween with Sparky and some of my friends. We had a great time eating, carving pumpkins, laughing, eating, and later munching on baked pumpkin seeds. It was fun. The next day after Halloween, I had lots of pumpkins so I thought I would salvage the meaty parts and make a pie. Which I did but I had a couple cups of left over pumpkin. I intended to make another pie but never got around to it.

Later in November my younger son wanted to have a birthday party with his cousin in the other city. Both have a birthday on the same day (years apart). So I thought, perfect, I'll go up a bit early, take the pumpkin and make a pumpkin pie for both lads. I almost accomplished that task. I grabbed the cream in the fridge and the recipe but for some strange reason forgot to grab the pumpkin which was on the shelf below the cream - strange really. So in the other city, at my Dad's place, I made a apple pie which turned pretty well. But then when I got home I still had the pumpkin.

Well this week was my business partner's birthday so I thought, great, I'll bake him a cake. He hates desserts but loves cheesecakes so I did a little research and came up with Pumpkin Bourbon Cheesecake. I don't even know what bourbon is so I thought this would be a great opportunity to learn - first hand. So I went to the store and with the store keeper's recommendation purchased a bottle of Jack Daniel's Old No. 7. Of course, Jack Daniel's isn't actually bourbon but that is what I was sold by that idiot at the liquor store. Now I have to go and by a bottle of real bourbon. Anyway the JD is nice stuff. I'm surprised I have any left for tonight but here I am sipping away - straight, not even any ice.

That is how I got started on JD whiskey. Apparently it is made in Kentucky. It's filtered through sugar maple charcoal. I'm blabbing.

Right. So back to the main topic - women. Let me update you.


I mentioned Jasmine before. She is the Jewish gal - older - fun - reminds me of my mother - kissing is not pretty. We teach together and the other day we went for a drink after class. In passing she suggested that I come over and "play". What kind of language is that? I remind her that we had that option once but nothing happened. We then reminisced about the night I was over at her place and it was so cold at 2 am that my car wouldn't start. Wow. What a wonderful opportunity. Jasmine was happy to have me stay over. We crawled into bed. We kissed and ...... nothing. I tried my entire play book and nothing. She just laid there like a log. So we are reminiscing about what happened and she told me she was still waiting. WTF? Am I stupid or just totally out to lunch? The only thing I can figure out is that I like a bit of reciprocity - some give and take - something warmer than a cold limp fish. As far as I know her invitation to come over and "play" is still open. Sometimes I entertain the thought.

Cartwheels is AWOL. I have no idea what happened to her - she's just gone. But I couldn't give a rat's ass. She captivated my mind for nearly a year and then vanished. Fuck.

Spandex, my ex, actually made a joke in an email (our only form of communication - her choice) this week. Maybe she is finally coming out of her menopausal spin. What a fucking nightmare that was. I wish her the best but I can't even laugh at her humor. She just pisses me off.

Pickles is still hanging around. She's not my first choice for a lover but she seems to stick to me like semen on a blue dress. She loves sex which is wonderful. God, I wish my ex-wife had the same interest and motivation - that would have been nice - maybe we would still be together - heaven forbid the thought. Not that I care now but while we were married fantastic sex would have been nice.

Back to Pickles. I made a tragic error a few weeks ago. Pickles was over for the night. I thought I would get romantic and burn some candles. I think I mentioned that she is not Helen of Troy (my favorite woman in antiquity) or Charlize Theron (my favorite female celebrity). Anyways, I lit two candles to throw a little light around the room.

I should clarify that skinny women freak me out. This is because my ex was very thin. When she was a teenager she even had a diagnosis of anorexia. As a teenager and young adult I succumbed to societal pressures and fell in love with a thin woman. I didn't mind - she had nice attributes. But now that I'm divorced I can't even imagine going out with someone who is rail thin. I have had a couple dates with thin women and I just freak out as soon as I see them. Now I screen them out.

However, on the opposite side of the scale, over weight women are just non starters for me. I don't mind having fat chicks as friends but I doubt I can fall in love with someone who is quite over weight. My cut off point (got to love that phrase) is having an apron. I just can't get excited about an apron. I pretty sure Pickles has one or close to one but I can't look. I just can't face reality. I'd rather close my eyes and fantasize about Charlize Theron . As you may have guessed, lighting the candles was a huge mistake. I almost saw her naked. God, what a sick fuck I am. Why did God make me this way?

I'm in such a bind. Skinny gals freak me out and fat gals turn me off. What am I suppose to do? Oh and to really limit my options, I have the other issue which I've mentioned before. I can't get excited about older women either - they remind me of my mother.

I'm hooped. What's a guy to do?

Well, let me carry on with a few more women in my life. Actually, one is a group of females. Sounds nice, eh? Well, not really. I call them The Three Musketeers where I'm d'Artagnan. Sherri is the mother, Mya is the daughter and Tutu is the Goldendoodle. I see them walking on my street all the time. Sometimes we stop and chat when I'm walking Kharma or when I'm coming home from work. They are all very nice. I suspect that there isn't a Mr. Sherri but I don't know for sure. I think that Sherri had a painful experience with someone (who hasn't). Sherri wears nice hats in cold weather. She smiles and talks to me. She walks Mya to a nearby before-school-place and then picks her up after work. I respect her. I think she is a good mother. I like her but haven't tried to connect. But I would like too. 

Then there is Ivy. I met her a few weeks ago when I was a guest presenter for a friend's (Doug) marketing class. Actually, I hardly met Ivy even though she was one of the students. The person I remembered was her "husband", Zie; he gave me his business card. I sent him an email, as I always do, but he never replied. Then I went to a networking function this week and saw him again. It took me a while to figure out who he was but I did make the connection. But then he left - early. I chatted with my friend, Doug. He introduced me to this good looking women called Ivy and reminded me that she had taken his class. I said Hi and then remembering the connection, I mentioned to Ivy that I had seen Zie earlier. She said that they had broken up and he came to the event to check up on her. She said this with disgust, then added that they had broken up. I was somewhat surprised but Zie hadn't impressed me. I'm sure he is an important business man - with a small dick. I despise guys like that. Not the small dick part. I could careless about their anatomy. It's their "I'm better than you" attitude that just irritates me. My theory is that men who are short or who have small dicks have to prove themselves. Their arrogant attitude is a compensation for their small dicks. I just want to whip mine out and say, see I'm bigger than you so shut the fuck up and go away. Of course, I'll never know who is bigger because I'm not in a habit of unfolding mine in public. But the thought is there.

So Ivy and I exchanged cards. She sent me an email that night thanking me for the people that I introduced her to. I replied with an invitation for coffee sometime. We met today. I hardly got a word in edgewise. She just talked - I listened. She is interesting. I didn't like all the funky new age spiritual crap but she is interesting. She is pretty. She likes to travel. She is fun. She likes friendships. She's pretty - did I mention that? She's going to make me a pumpkin martini - sounds interesting. I wonder how many we will drink?

Thanks for the email today - a blessing. Looking forward to dinner later in December. Safe travels.

Cocktale