Clean fun...it's better than DIRTY fun

Your Mamma Told You To Scrub There...

Now it does happen, quite often, that you meet someone with whom you totally click and get along with. You enjoy spending time together, and you end up going out several times. These are wonderful experiences, and typically, at this point it usually takes something pretty significant to disrupt the happy path to possible matrimony.

I had been seeing a girl, we shall call her Phoebe, for a couple of weeks. Things were moving along splendidly and we had been out on several successful, fun dates.

We decided that this particular weekend though, we would stay in, and with the companionship of popcorn and the nestling of a warm blanket, watch a good movie and enjoy each others' company.

And that is exactly how it played out...up to the end of the movie.

As the credits began to roll, the lights were out, the mood was set, and that good ol' fashioned feeling of physical contact started to progress.

Ok, ok...cool your jets. It was all quite innocent and PG rated, so don't get your hopes up, or call my Bishop.

Anyway, we were kissing. She was very skilled in this art and we were having an enjoyable time. Well, being the suave romantic that I am, I thought that it would be fun to tease her a bit with a nibble on the ear.

So I worked my way over a bit and started kissing her cheek, and then moving towards the ear, I took my hand and gently brushed her hair back and out of the way to move in.

Well, as I ever so gently brushed her hair back, I happened to get a good look behind her ear and saw...

Wait for it...

DIRT

Small, black, granules of gritty, abrasive dirt, freshly planted and held in place by a foundation of thick, waxy hair grease and dandruff.

Now, of course on first sight, I thought that this surely could not be, as this much build up had to have taken place not over only a day or three of forgetfulness. This sheer volume of grime could only have been built up over the course of weeks to attain such mass.

So, feigning a genteel tickle of the ear with my finger, I went ahead and touched back there only to confirm what I already knew and should have heeded in the first place, and that was that this girl was in some serious need of some "Head & Shoulders" and a scouring pad.

Yes...the mood was killed, and so soon after...was the relationship.

Personal Hygiene...It's all the rage.

Ahhh...Thank you very much!

Elvis is not dead...he has been reincarnated in "Johnny".

A group of friends and I have Christmas tradition of going up to the Gibson Amphitheater (Universal Amphitheater, to you OS cats!) every year to see The Brian Setzer Orchestra Christmas Revue.

A few years ago, (back in my psychobilly days) the small group of 8 of us were prepared to put on swing dancing shoes and rock that joint. There was just one small problem, my original date decided that he no longer wanted to go with us. As his ex-girlfriend came back into the picture.

Well, after sorting out that minor mess. I called my friend Cassandra and told her the news. At first, I thought that she would share in my moment of misery, but this was not the case. To which she proclaimed, "That's perfect! I have the perfect cat for you. I've been trying to figure out how to get you two hell-cats to meet."

Now, I love and adore Cass, but her taste in men for me always fall very, very short. This would be no exception to the rule. The night came. We were all decked out. Dressed to the nines. Everyone had on their swing shoes. The guys were in the bright colored zoot suits, leather jackets, dungarees rolled up and bowling shirts. We girls, looked as if we were World War II P-38's pin-up girls that came to life. Nylon lines running down our girly legs, bright red lips and cat lined eyes. LA was our town that we were going to paint it red and swing the night away.

We met up at Johnny's house. It was retro Arts and Craft style house. Inside, you were transported back into the 1940's with a hint of the 1950's. Everything was vintage or complete rebuilt. So far, I was impressed with the boy.

Moment of truth, in walked Johnny, a true psychobilly guy. A perfectly shaved head. Except for the portion that was grown out to create the perfect pompadour. He looked like a greaser that would have given Marlon Brando and James Dean a run for their money. He was dressed in suit that could have been worn by Elvis Presley himself. Well, so far Cass did not let me down. But the night was still young.

We all piled into two cars. One rebuilt Bel Air and the other was a 1954 Cadillac that was made exactly like the one Elvis had.

Johnny LOVED Elvis Presley and I mean LOOOOVED Elvis.

We got the show and had a swinging good time. The two opening acts were pretty good and caused us to have an impromptu discussion to see about all of us hepcats making a trip out to Memphis rockabilly music scene. From there, Johnny said "Well, since all of you are Elvis rookies. We should swing to Vegas first and catch some of the Elvis revues." Now, in this group of greasers...Vegas wasn't a hard sell.

Well, Brian Setzer come on. We sang along. We danced in the aisles. The night couldn't have gone any better.

So with that, the concert was over and we were hungry. Pink's was our dinner of choice for the evening. It was a Friday night and we weren't on planning to come home until late and Pink's is perfectly designed for that. As we started eating , Johnny decided that we should all have a history of the life of Elvis. I was ready for a true fan to enlighten me on Mr. TCB (Taking Care of Business). Oh no, this was not the case. Johnny took off his jacket and button-up shirt. Then ripped off his wife-beater and proceeded to show us the highlights of Elvis' career that was tattooed on his chest and his entire back.

Don't get me wrong, Johnny wasn't bad to look at, but I draw the line with at least 25 different Elvis' tats staring at me. As he described every moment in perfect detail, I began to think, "Huh, he pasted passion and entered into obsession a long time ago. I wonder if I should tell him that the King is dead?" Well, according to Johnny, the King is not dead. Johnny also thought "Paty" didn't suit me anymore and called me 'Priscilla' for the rest of the evening. With that we headed home.

As Johnny walked me to my car, he began to speak exact like Elvis "Hey Pris, I had a swinging time. Let's do Vegas! TBC style! Whadda say?"


I could only answer back with "Elvis has left the building!"

Big Girls Don't Cry

I Didn't Mean To Make Her Cry

For those of you who know me at all, you know that I could easily be described as a "Nice Guy". I have never intentionally wanted to make someone cry. But apparently, all it took was an introduction:

About 8 years ago, I was living just off of BYU campus and living the College Life Dream. I was active in the student ward, had great roommates, and best of all, had a full head of hair. I had it all.

One of the girls in my FHE group saw that I had it all, and thought, "Here is a great guy to set up with my friend 'Jamie'."

So this girl, whom we shall call Annie...because that actually was her name...I think, approached me after one of our fun-filled adventures in all things Mormon Monday Nights, and asked if I would be interested in going out with her friend "Jamie". (Which was not her real name by the way, in case you didn't infer that by the quotes)

After she told me a bit about "Jamie", I answered with an enthusiastic, "I suppose I could", and plans were made for a movie and dessert double date, (me and "Jamie", Annie and her boyfriend Paul), on Friday night.

Now, unbeknown to me, was the fact that "Jamie" had recently broken up with her long time boyfriend. This is important.

We had arranged to meet at the Wynnsong Movie Theater in Provo. The movie chosen...was a romantic comedy. I arrived decked out in my sexiest khaki Dockers, blue button up shirt and hair...which was quite full and thick, moussed to perfection.

I spotted Annie, Paul and "Jamie" as they came walking across the parking lot. I won't lie...I was impressed. She was an attractive young woman, and I was much looking forward to meeting her.

As they walked up to me, Annie began to introduce us. With a gesture towards me she said, "'Jamie', this is Zach."

To which Jamie burst into tears.

I am not talking a slight weeping from the corner of her eyes because my Acqua Di Gio, may have been liberally applied.

No, this was a full blown order of cascading tears with body convulsions on the side. The nose began to run, and this no-longer composed young woman, was in complete break down.

She turned and started to run to the car, lamenting, "It's too soon...it's too soon!"

Annie, turned to me, and with a sincere apology explained that "Jamie" had recently broken up with her boyfriend. I never did learn exactly HOW recently. She then invited me to still enjoy the movie with Paul, for which they had already purchased the tickets. She then excused herself to go and console "Jamie".

So Paul (whom I had also never met until that night), and I enjoyed an awkward, albeit...nope...just awkward, romantic comedy with an extra chair between us, while Annie and "Jamie" went home to be consoled by Messieurs Haag and Das.

A Never-ending Questionnaire

A first date tends to involve a barrage of questions to get to know the other person enough to want to go out with them again. Some typical questions tend to be; where are you from? How many siblings do you have? What is your favorite kind of dessert? But not this date!

It started quite normal at one of his favorite surf and turf restaurant off of PCH. We met around 7:00 PM on a gorgeous Saturday night. Well, after our first meeting, I was excited to know more about him. We sat down and ordered our waters while having a chance to look at the menu. Since it was "his" place I asked what was good there. He said "Pretty much everything, but if you trust me, I'll order for you" I had no objections. I was having a dare devil moment. The waitress came back and took what seemed to be the longest order of food that I have ever heard.

With that our waitress left and the questions began. As I would answer one, it seemed as if he was taking notes under the table. A bit odd for me, but he could have a nervous twitch about him.

Finally, the food came and to my surprise my date did well on ordering my meal. From there, we continued the quickfire of questions. When asking a girl if she served a mission, this is not the way to go about it, "So, you served a mission, right? Couldn't get married?" I think my eyes became the size of saucers at this point. I looked at him, "You had bad experiences with sister missionaries, didn't you?" Silence from the other side of the table. After a brief moment, another set of questions, but this time the mini notepad (that looked as if it belonged to a private investigator) was now on the table and he would stop eating to write down my answers. As the dinner progressed, his attractiveness became less and less appealing.

Dinner had finally come to its end and now I was looking at the dessert menu. Next thing I know the menu is ripped out of my hand and he orders for me. I was shocked since I think that desserts are pretty universal. I could have been craving something specific. As we waited for the unknown desserts, he began to speak..."I have analysed your answers and I have few more questions that I would like you to answer for me." Analysis? Was I on date or an interview?

He then pulls out a portfolio full of paper. He rummages through the tabs and finally stopped on one. He looked over his notes before handing me a stack of paper.

I was now in the possession of a packet that looked like an examination that would have help me qualify to be a F.B.I agent. He handed me ten pages of questions. "These are the questions that a girl like you falls under. I think that you and I are quite compatible for dating."

Saved by the dessert! Placed in front of me a brownie with ice cream that literally looks bigger than the size of my mini cooper. I ignore the dessert since I have 240 questions to answer and return the packet back to him on our second date.

He notices that I haven't touched the brownie. How can I? He acts perturbed that I haven't even taken a single bite. I looked down at my questions, then look directly at him "Well, an answer to #14 is that I am allergic to chocolate, hence I can't eat my dessert." Again, leans into the table to make a note in his notebook.

With that he asked what I thought of the following Saturday to go out again. Normally, dating someone with a ton of questions, isn't a bad thing, but some of these questions were things that not even my doctor would ask.

Let me share some of my 240 questions:

#29 Can you bear children?
#50 Do you take a shower or a bath?
#89 Have you repented of your sins?
#124 In order, describe the first five physical characteristics that you notice on a man?
and my personal favorite
#240 Would you wear role playing costumes?

With that, he asked to have my dessert wrapped up to go and then we paid the bill. As we walked out, he still tried to ask questions for his notebook. "Could you answer #34 for me?"

Question # 34, how long do you wait before you call the guy after a date? Well, after half a second of thinking, I responded... "I'm afraid with this many questions, there may not be enough time for me to call you."

Go, go gadget car!!

Of course, I answered the all questions...privately!

Too Much Information

Seriously? You Want To Share That?

When you think of information exchanged during a second date, what do you think of? Typical follow up questions to things learned on the first date? Maybe more detail about siblings, or where you grew up, or how you ended up in your current occupation. All pretty superficial and surface, right?

Apparently I have been doing it wrong, as one girl taught me that there is so much more to be shared on the second date.

Several years ago I met an amazing young woman who was a vision to behold. She was beautiful, happy, intelligent and at first meeting, every guy wanted to date her. She was one of those girls that walks into the room and all eyes turned to watch her. Male eyes to admire...female eyes to abhor with jealousy.

Being the suave and confident fellow that I am, I was one of the first to ask her out for an evening on the town after she had recently moved in. I was a lucky man. Or so I thought.

Our first date actually went pretty well. We had a good time, enjoyed conversation, and enough interest was piqued that a second date was planned. However, as those of you who have been on second dates know too well...the first date is when they put on the "persona" they want to appear as. After that, putting their best foot forward falls by the wayside and you learn who exactly it is you just shelled out $40 bucks for Macaroni Grill on.

We were well into the meal, enjoying great conversation and joking about the resume requirements the wait staff had to demonstrate to show Mac Grill customers how simple and easy it is to write your name on the paper table cloth with crayons really is...upside down.

Suddenly though, conversation took a turn to a more personal level.It was still light-hearted and casual, but the topic turned to children...specifically, HAVING children. More to the point, US HAVING children.

In one breath she had steered the conversation on our SECOND date, to an outlined calendar of our engagement plans, when we could expect to get married, how long the honeymoon would be, and on what DAY we could plan to get pregnant.

WE? Get PREGNANT? At this point, I didn't think that was possible for me. Still unsure of that.

As I sat there, trying to wrap my mind around the hairpin turn that this conversation had taken in less than a few moments, I mentally reeled back to consider how long I had actually known this girl:

Sunday: Met her for the first time
Monday: First date
Tuesday: Second date - Having Children Talk

Yep...less than 72 hours had passed since meeting her.

I re-registered my attention to the conversation that was continuing on when she stated in no uncertain terms that she was knew her ovulation cycle so well she could pin point the exact moments that we could plan on conception.

Her Ovulation Cycle?

Having three sisters, I knew somewhat what this term meant, or what it surmised. However, to leave me with no doubts, she launched into a very, very in-depth description of her ovulation cycle, what exactly was going on physically, psychologically and emotionally, and what I could expect since I was going to be there for it...all of it.

I know...I know...a sane guy would have called it quits with that date and moved on.

But she was really, really hot.

So Wednesday held the third date. Where she told me she loved me.

There was no fourth date.