Karaoke Cantina

I still can't get over Zach's pyrotechnics! I have my own version of a similar story but that will be for another time. I would hate to have his thunder stolen...



There are some things in this world that will make me blush, make me turn into a shy little girl and make me go running for the hills! I had in one night, a date that accomplished all these feats at once.

'Aaron' had asked me out the week before. He said that I should pick the location for dinner and that he would pick the evenings festivities. I figured it wasn't a bad trade. I was craving a proper pastrami sandwich and there really only one place that is date worthy of such a meal. So, I told him to meet me at The Hat. As we went inside, I noticed that something was off with Aaron. Being the concerned date that I was; "Is everything okay?" With saucer-like eyes he stared down at me (he was 6'4") and began to turn shades of white that would put snow to shame. "No, I'm not. I am vegetarian. I don't think that I can eat here." This bit of information would have been good to know prior to me picking the restaurant. Luckily, I knew of vegetarian place down the road. So, now that we were eating at The Rabbit Whole. We talked about what we like to do in our free time. He was beaming at this moment. Aaron the told me that I was going to see is band perform that night.

Sweet! He was in a band. This makes up for the fact that he was a vegetarian.

So we get to Quan's Lounge. Aaron said that since he was a performer he would have to take a different entrance, but said that my name was on the VIP list. I entered what looked like a cheap version of the Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars with an over-the top Asian flavor. I was escorted to the VIP section. Oh, yes there was velvet rope in VIP section!! The level of cheese was astronomical. Not the type of venue that I would have expected, but what the heck, "Let's see what happens."

While sitting in red snake-skin covered booth, a group of girls ran...I mean...RAN...to the stage. You would think that it was 1964 and the Beatles where making an appearance. One girl turned to see who was sitting in Aaron's booth. She the yelled over to me, "OMG are you with Aaron?" I simply smiled and informed her that I was his date for the night. She then kept talking to me, " Did you win the date contest that they had? OMG I am so jealous. Have you kissed him? Have you heard him sing? Are you two serious?" I don't think that she took a breath. I reassured the love sick girl that I was just a date. Nothing more. This was the first time that I was going to hear him sing. She was his biggest fan, at least that is what her glitter covered t-shirt said. The lights dimmed and the stage was lite.

There are no instruments on stage...again I repeat that there were no instruments on the stage. Umm, I could be wrong, but if you are in a band, there has to be instruments to play.

Over the speakers, the announcement comes. 'Ladies and gentlemen, for you pleasure, to open the night of festivities... The Repeating Lips" Suddenly, to my surprise there is my date, dressed in a suit that looked like a love-child of Elton John's and Liberace's wardrobe. The girls were screaming, cooing, sighing and I still think I saw one of them drool. The energy was intense it was hard to not to get sucked into it. But it was as the music started a medley of Journey and Chicago, that the crowd went wild! Aaron was the lead singer of a lip-sync band.

In his mind, this venue should have been Madison Square Garden. The band was in acting out the drums, the air guitar riffs and even a saxophone solo in full sequins regalia. This went on for an hour. Then Aaron was given a mic; "Thank you all for coming! For my next song, I would like to dedicate to the girl who has given me a magical night! Thanks Patricia." I was blushing! I matched the red snake skin. When everyone turned around to look at me, I started to giggle like a little girl. I was embarrassed but then again, I just had a song dedicated to me.

But then...Patricia?! No one calls me that unless I'm trouble or caught red-handed.

The song started so innocently: "I'm going out to dinner, with a gorgeous singer, To a little place I've found down by the quay; Her name is Patricia, she calls herself Delicia, And the reason isn't very hard to see..." a few lines pass and then, "You see Patricia, or Delicia, not only is a singer. She also removes all her clothing... For Patricia is the best stripper in town..."

Aaron is singing...wait for it... 'Patricia the Stripper' by Chris de Burgh.

Apparently, the only song that he could find with my name was about a stripper. I was frozen and stuck to the seat of the booth. I turned pale...paler then usual. Okay, the song had a good beat and you could clap and sing along. But let's not forget that the song is about a stripper.

I stayed for the whole song! It was the last of his set for the evening. It was song with story and my curiosity got the best of me. I had to know how it ended.

Now there are are songs, that will make me melt into my date, but Patricia the Stripper is not one of them.

I know it has been awhile, and I apologize for that. However, in my absence, I actually started dating a girl on a regular basis.

Sadly...none of our dates have been "worthy" of this particular blog. In other words, things are going well.

However, you have been patient in your waiting, and I do not want to disappoint any further, so I have pulled a gem out of my Grab Bag of Dating stories and present to you, "Lehi Girl".

I honestly don't remember what her name was. All I remember was that she was from Lehi. It all started one Sunday afternoon at my Aunt and Uncle's home in Springville. My wonderful Aunt Gretchen came in to visit with me, and soon got around to her intended purpose in striking up conversation. She started hemming and hawing and finally got around to asking, "Zach, there is a girl in our ward that I think you would be perfect for. I would really like to set you up with her...is that all right?"

It is quite difficult to tell your aunt, whom you care for very much, that you really don't want to get set up. I found myself engaging in stalling tactics trying to come up with a polite way to turn her down, however, she continued to laud the praises of this young woman and it became more and more difficult to decline.

My aunt started to tell me that this young woman had come into their Sunday School class that day and bore her testimony, and "had the sweetest spirit ever". Now, for those of you familiar with the Mormon Dating vernacular, you will recognize that "sweet spirit" is often used to help people focus on the inner beauty...and disregard the lack of outer beauty. So my aunt at this moment wasn't helping her own cause.

But, cave I did, and agreed to take this "sweet spirited" young woman out on a date.

About that moment, my Uncle Kevin came in and my aunt excitedly told him that I had agreed to take out this girl. He immediately turned to me and said, "Oh that will be fun...you woudn't know it because they aren't boastful, but her family is probably one of the wealthiest families in Lehi."

This girl just got more interesting.

Then my aunt opined that I better hurry and take the girl out sooner rather than later. I asked why and was told, "Because starting next week she will be quite busy with her running for Miss Utah."

And she just moved up the Interesting Scale another few notches.

I would like the record to stand that I agreed to go out with this girl BEFORE I knew she came from a wealthy family AND before I was aware that she was in fact, a beauty contestant.

So after the initial call to ask her out on a date, the day finally arrived that I was to meet Lehi Girl. She had told me the general area that her house was in Lehi and told me to look for the Camaro sports car parked out front, as that was her car.

To answer your current question...yes, she was quite attractive. But on top of that, she was actually very easy to talk to, entertaining, and just fun to be around. From the very beginning of the date, things were looking up.

So to start off, I decided that we should have dinner at the Tempanyaki Steak House in Provo. As usual, the entertainment of watching the chef as he prepared our food was very enjoyable, and we both enjoyed our meals of steak, chicken and scallops.

It should be noted that she did not partake of any of the scallops. This comes into play later. Keep that in mind dear reader.

After dinner, I thought it would be fun to drive up on top of Point of the Mountain and fly kites. I had purchased a six-foot triangle kite with 300 yards of industrial-strength kite string for just this occasion.

Thanks to the 4x4 prowess of my Toyota Tacoma, we found ourselves at the very top of the mountain in no time, with a very strong wind whipping its way from north to south.

We pulled out the kite and string and got it rigged up with no problems. Setting the kite to flight consisted of just hanging onto the spool of string and literally letting go of the kite. The wind lifted it to well over one hundred feet with no effort on our part at all.

So we settled into taking turns holding the kite while sitting on the tailgate of my truck and talking about music and concerts.

As we were discussing the various concerts that we had both attended, I felt a sudden gurgling come from within the recesses of my bowels. It was this point...that the date turned.

At first I just thought it was a little gas. So I stood up and casually walked around the truck mentioning that I needed to stretch my legs. Although I didn't really find that I had gas per se, I did feel a bit better. So I re-sat down next to my date.

That was a bad idea. The gurgling re-commenced...with a new fervor.

So I stood up again. This time, I walked a bit more and seemed to be feeling slightly better. But when I stopped walking...a new fury of gastrointestinal rage sprung forth from the depths of within and refused to abate itself. It took every last bit of conscious thought and effort to maintain some semblance of control over my bowels.

I calmly informed my date that, "something didn't feel right", and if she would be so kind as to forgive the early termination of our date, and perhaps be interested in a future outing, I would appreciate it if we could call it a night.

I think she could see the pain and stress across my face as beads of sweat began to form across my, (then well-follicled) head. She readily agreed and we began to put everything away.

At this point, I might add that what once was a beautiful and glorious thing to behold, a six-foot wing span kite, soaring through the clouds, now became the bane of my existence as I tried to rip it from its lofty height. It refused to come down quickly, but I soon found that the grab and jerk method cut it back down to earth more rapidly. It was then unceremoniously tossed into the back of the truck and we rocketed off the top of the mountain towards civilization and indoor plumbing.

For those of you who have never been to the top of Point of the Mountain, I should like to point out at this time that the 1.5 mile road is not paved and has been grated into what is commonly referred to as, "Wash Board". Over 7,000 feet of continuous mini-speed bumps that I was pummeling at around 50 mph. It was not a smooth journey.

I refer you back to the earlier paragraph were I described the inner battle that was quickly tipping sides between my bowel control, and the undisputed champion of cuisine chaos.

Plus 50 mph wash board roads.

White-knuckled and sweating quite profusely, I finally arrived, still pants-unsoiled, at some glorious asphalt and pavement. Heaven bless the person who invented that.

At this point in the drive, it was another 2.5 miles back to her house, or 2 miles to a sketchy-looking, sanitarily-questionable gas station.

I chose the gas station.

As we flew into the parking lot, I was throwing the parking brake on and jumping out of the truck as it was still settling into the parking slot. I hollered to my date that I would be right back and sprinted into the gas station, past the dozing cashier and down the hall to the bathrooms that lay beyond.

When I arrived at the restrooms, I was halted in my progress by a large sign on the Men's Room that said, "Closed For Cleaning".

I said aloud, "I don't think so!", as I pulled the sign down and threw it at the Women's Restroom door. I then jerked the door open and made for the nearest stall.

I will save you, the reader, a description of what fresh new horror took place in that stall, in that restroom, in that gas station on that day. But let me assure you...it was a fight between man and the forces of evil, that no digestive system should ever host battle to again.

Towards the end of my sojourn on the porcelain battle field, I took pause to look around the stall and bathroom and realized WHY it had been closed for cleaning. It looked to me like mine was not the only insurgence of meal time that day. It appeared the previous victor had not been the mortal warrior...but the unleashing of his....

Never mind that...I had a date sitting out in the truck!

I quickly cleaned up and, head a little higher, chin up and chest puffed just a bit; I proceeded to march back out to the truck and climb back into the driver's seat. By look alone, my date could see that things were much better now.

We proceeded to drive back to her home. I again apologized for what had happened and plans for a future outing began to form.

We arrived at her house and I walked her to her door. About halfway up her walk, the demons of digestion once again reared their ugly heads, and a fresh new battle ensued within. I realized...I didn't have much time.

However, we had arrived at her doorstep and I proceeded to give her a hug, an expression of gratitude for the evening company, and a promise to call her again. As I was turning to leave, her father showed up and invited me to come in and sit down.

There comes a point in every man's life when he reaches an extreme in physical exertion and bodily control. He comes to a line that he believes is the final extent to which he can go before collapsing to the reverse swing of exhaustion. However, it is in these moments that he realizes he can hold out, just a little longer, and remind the bowel controls that they are to be submissive to him, and not the other way around.

Although I declined the offer to sit, I did spend a few moments of anguish answering questions that her dad felt obligated to ask me. To this day, I feel bad about the brevity of my answers and the quickness of my responses as I tried to hurry the man up.

I finally was able to pull away from the house and head straight to the nearest gas station to once again take the battle inside.

After that round, I had a 20 minute drive to look forward to, as I made my way back to the BYU Approved housing that I lived in. At about 9 minutes in...the war once again resumed within, and I found myself gripping the steering wheel with a grand determination, knowing that it was my only focal point with reality at that moment. Everything else swirling around me was hallucinations and mirages messing with my sanity.

At 12 minutes in, my gas light went on, warning me that I was about to lose my chariot.

At 13 minutes I was pulling into a gas station that didn't have Pay At The Pump.

At 17 minutes, I had $10 worth of gas and was scribbling my signature with a shaky hand on a check that was barely legible.

At 18 minutes, I was screaming out onto the street and making my way through the Provo traffic towards my home and the sweet, sweet call of my toilet.

At 20 minutes, my truck still rocking slightly from the sudden stop and park that it had just been put through, I was fumbling with my keys trying to unlock the front door.

At 20 minutes, 5 seconds, my chatty neighbor came out to ask me about a good time to come over for some hometeaching.

At 20 minutes, 8 seconds, I begged forgiveness of the Lord for my abrupt disregard and ignoring of my hometeacher, while taking the stairs three at a time towards the greatest seat in a house.

At 20 minutes, 15 seconds, I found myself in a position that I would continue to hold for the next 14 hours as those scallops that once swam in the sea, were returned with a flourish to the wretched watery Hell whence they came.

As a postlude, I did apologize to my hometeacher, who admitted that he could tell something wasn't right. And I did call that girl again as I promised.

But then she met a guy at school and was engaged within a few weeks.

And thus ended my adventure with Lehi Girl.

Penalty Box: Five for fighting

Dating does stink at times... but damsels must be rescued and frogs must be kissed, or in this case, there needs to be a body checked into the glass.

'Joe' learned from a mutual friend that I am a huge ice hockey fan and really what girl isn't! We began to talk to each other about lists of stats that we knew from our favorite teams, his being the Anaheim Ducks and mine the Calgary Flames, we soon learned that they were going to play each other at the Pond. So, he asked me out to the game. Hockey and a cute boy, what could go wrong?

Joe was a season ticket holder and suggested that he pick me up, since he had parking covered. He showed up in a Ducks jersey and I walked out in my Flames jersey. While looking me up and down he said, "This is going to be a fun night! I can already tell." I simply shooked my head and got into the car and off we went.

We were 10 rows off the glass, dead center of the rink. If his goal was to impress me and change me into a Ducks fan...these seats were a good start. Okay, home field = Ducks and I was surrounded by a brace, a flush, a flock and a paddling of Duck fans. So, I did what comes naturally to me at any sporting event "GO FLAMES!"

Those around us were all good sports about the little Flame's fan. The Flames were in the lead early in the first, then the Ducks came back to tie the game. By the second period the Ducks lead 3-1. I still had hope. But when the hometeam is winning at home the beer flowed a bit more around those who surrounded of us. Now there was drunken trash talk aimed at me and my mortified date.

I was a good sport about the talk since I knew that my team would come back, until my date began to heckle me. "You need to sit down, You are embaressing me and They can't hear you!" Needless to say, I was shocked, as were the people around me. So, I didn't yell as much... "Come on, body check him already, Pass the puck, POWER PLAY!!" Well, by the end of second period, Joe got up and yelled at me, "I'll be in the car waiting to take you home!" Oh, you read that right, my date walked out of the game that his team was winning and waited in the car for the game to be over.

I'd like to think that this moment would have unsettled me, but a Duck winger was checked right in front of me! My newly formed friends kept me company for the rest of the game. Some even asked why I would put up with that behavior from my boyfriend. They were dumbfounded to find out that this was our first and more than likely last date. Some of them were kind enough to walk me to the car, just in case, he decided to leave me at the Pond. True to his word, he was in the car and more than happy to take me home.

The Flames won 5-3 with a late third period power play, but he didn't want to hear it. The Flames may have won but my date went down in ...thanks to the Flames!!

Reject

Reject. As a label, it is one of the hardest categories to accept as having been allotted. The process of “rejecting” is a cruel and painful one. For one brief moment, that which is being rejected has been singled out from the crowd, and while cowering under the spotlight of being the Center of Attention for all in attendance, the label of “Reject” is swiftly and callously applied. Then, as the refuse that it now is, it is cast aside, only to be remembered in the furthest corner of the mind possible, labeled permanently as “Rejected”…For life, it seems must go on.
Do you want to know WHY dating stinks? Because as it would seem…dating can only survive by feeding on the hopes of those who participate.
I realized a long time ago that as a continual optimist, I pour hope into the cavernous maw of Dating, satiating its need to survive. For over half of my life, I have optimistically gone from one potential girlfriend to the next, HOPING that this time, it will be different. I make no claim on perfection. I am fully aware that I (and my choices), play a significant role in the outcome of relationships. However, I can categorically state that every time a girl has made the effort and actually taken the time to get to know me…I quickly fall from the ranks of “Zach the Interest” to “Zach the Good Friend”. And forever thereafter, every time…when they need me, I am always available with arms wide open, ready to lend a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear. I don’t know why this is. Perhaps my point of view is slightly skewed by the wallowing river of misery that I so often find myself wading.
But this is really all I can say right now:
The gluttonous belly of the Dating beast has fed many a meal upon the Hope of my optimism.
And that dear reader…is why Dating Stinks.

An Evel Knievel jump

There was a time that I would go out to Arizona practically every other month to visit some friends. But one time, I called (my girl) Nancy to let her know that I needed a break from life and that I was on my way out for a short spell. As I drove out into the moonlit-filled desert, I popped in a cd that was made for me by the guy I was seeing than realized that he was breaking up with me through music. So with that, it made the six hour drive that much longer.

I arrived at her house and was thrilled to be with Nancy, her little family and a very striking single friend. That night we played several rounds of Loaded Questions (a game that reveals far too much sometimes but always good for a laugh.)

'Paul' and I ended talking well into the night. As he said are goodbyes, he planted a kiss on me. I have to admit that it was an earth-moving kiss. We talked the rest of weekend and he even helped keep me awake on my drive back to California.

As I was driving back home, we made plans for me to come back out without telling any of my other AZ friends.

I show up at the airport and he picks me up and we grab a late dinner. As we ate, he got a call saying that he NOW had to pick up his daughter since it was NOW his weekend. He looked to me and explained the situation. I said "No worries, I can call up Nancy and I can stay with her." He didn't like that idea. So, we both are on our way to pick up his daughter.

Now, Paul's daughter was the cutest little thing that I ever saw. While we drove back to his house. It was late and it was time for her to go to bed and only wanted me to read her the nightly bedtime story. She finally went to sleep and I headed to the guest room.

The next morning I woke up to a heated arguement on the phone. So, I brought his little girl into the kitchen and made all of us breakfast. Then lunch. Then dinner. With that I called Nancy to let her know what I have done.

In one weekend, I went from potential girlfriend straight to wife and mother.

Are you sure....

I once met a girl through one of my best friends, it was his cousin and her name was Trisha, (not her real name). Trisha and I actually went out quite a few times. From my point of view, things were really falling into place. She was fun to talk to, an enjoyable companion in any situation, attractive, and very down to earth. I was really starting to fall for her. That's when things went weird.
We were out on a date and I decided that it was time to have "The Talk" and find out where this relationship is going. However, as soon as I started to tell her that I like her, and that I hoped we could take things to the next level, she replied by saying, "I think I am a lesbian."

Cue the awkward silence.

More awkward silence.

Just a few more moments of awkward silence.

It was about at this point that a new topic of conversation was started and we limped the dinner to an end and called it an evening.

We didn't talk much after that, but still stayed in contact every few weeks or so.

About six months later, she happened to be online and we started chatting to catch up and see what was new with each other. I finally got around to asking her how her decision to be a lesbian was working out.

She said, "I thought I was...but then I realized that I don't like girls."

Funny...I figured that would have been a pre-requisite to something like that.

I'll take the chef's special and a side of ex-girlfriend

'Scott' was a guy that I had been eyeing for a short while and finally asked me out to dinner and what he called a mini adventured-filled date, with the prospect of an adventure I could hardly say no.

So he picked me up at my place we headed to one of my favorite BBQ places this side of the Rockies. But along the way, he took the scenic route and showed me some of the weirdest houses that I have ever seen in Orange County. I was thoroughly entertained by what people did to make the home unique looking. I was truly surprised by what I saw. We finally arrived at the restaurant. We sat and talked while waiting for our table.

Once we sat down and the food was ordered, Scott turned ghost-white. I slightly panicked. I really didn't want to use any of life saving skills this evening. He was speechless. He tried to talked and nothing came out. Finally, he pointed to typical looking California blond girl. Since I didn't have my secret decoder ring, he eventually was able to speak again. "That's my ex-girlfriend." I thought nothing of that since all of have an ex that we don't want to deal with. He continued, "I have a restraining order out on her. She can not be more that 500 feet from me at any given time. I am going to tell the manager what is going on. Could you call the police for me?"

No date should have to call the police. But was more disconcerting was that he had all the local police departments on his contacts. All I had to do was get to the right city and then made the call. While he was letting the manager know about the situation, she came over to our table to speak with me. "Hi, I'm Becky. I just wanted to let you know that YOU are having dinner with MY boyfriend. He is only doing this to get even with me for trashing his apartment. So, you might want to leave him alone and get the hell out of here." Now my thoughts were whirling, I was preparing for the worse from her, she could hit me, which means I would end up hitting her back. Hmm, assault on the first date, not the best idea. She could try to reach for a knife. Another knife wound, thank you...no. Or she could try to tackle me and it would turn into a cat fight and I would never be able to go back and eat there. I could not let that happen!

Before any thing could happen, the manager asked if she could meet the police officers at the front door. As she got up to leave, she threw a hard left at my face. Luckily for me, she hit like a girl. But, the police officers saw the hit and came running to my table and took her down. She was hauled off into the backseat of the squad car. I made sure to be on my best behavior after that.

We got dinner to go and finished up the rest of the date filling out incident reports and pressing charges.