Wednesday has rolled around, my lack of sleep and extreme exhaustion are now a thing of the past. Edward and I have plans to go out and I’m in a really good mood, looking forward to seeing this man who actually has his shit VERY together for his ripe old age of twenty-five.
Let me clear the air by saying that I’m a twenty-seven year old puma in training.
Let me clear the air by saying that I’m a twenty-seven year old puma in training.
Lately, the only men that gravitate towards me are between the ages of twenty-one to twenty-five. Either all the men over twenty-eight are married in this city, or they’re gay. Either way, I’m neither of those two, so I’ll take what I can get.Edward makes a very decent living for himself as a sales’ rep for a pharmaceutical company in downtown Fort Lauderdale. I can honestly say I’m done with the broke guys who are still trying to “find their calling” (I’ve had one too many), so I’m totally embracing his go get ‘em attitude and ambition towards life. A man who knows what he wants and works for it is sexy. A man who makes you pay for your movie ticket, is not (sorry guys, that’s just the truth). With that said, lazy girls who can’t hold a job or fend for themselves suck too (I’m just sayin’).
The madness begins today, but I promise, next week I’ll stay home every single day on my best behavior! Of course, only until my flight to Buenos Aires departs and I dive into a bottle of red wine with the hottest Argentinian boy I can find, not emerging for ten days…...
Sounds like heaven.
2:13 p.m. I’m at work, wondering where Edward will be taking me to dinner for the night. I pick up my phone and text him, inquiring the very same question.
3:38 p.m. It’s been over an hour and I haven’t heard from him. I’m not the most patient of people, especially when it comes to the telephone. When I text, I expect a reply within three minutes, or I immediately start stalking my phone like a desperate chick stalks her match.com inbox. From experience, I know I’m not the only girl who does this. It’s kind of hard for me to come to terms with the fact that people have jobs, lives, or are maybe just taking a shower when they receive my text. What can I say? I’m psycho that way.
4:20 p.m. I receive a text from Edward with the following picture.
"I totaled my car this morning. At the hospital."
Well, that would explain why he hasn’t texted me all day. I’m such an asshole sometimes.
The following trail ensues:
Annah: Please say you’re kidding
Edward: I wish I was.
Annah: Are you alright? I’m so sorry.
Edward: I’m fine. Just not really allowed to use the phone in here. They have me wearing this stupid neck brace and I may be on crutches for a while. Not sure just yet.
Annah: Okay, well just let me know if you need anything.
Edward: I need you. And a glass of whiskey.
Oh my. I wasn’t expecting that answer.
Annah: Now how exactly do I respond to that?
Edward: I wasn’t serious. Well, not 100% anyway. LOL. I do need a glass of whiskey though. I’ll get one when we do dinner tonight.
Annah: You’re still up for dinner? Now I know you're outta your head.
Edward: It’s just an accident, not the end of the world. I’ll text you as soon as I’m home and this neckbrace is off. Talk later.
Hhmmmmmmm. I like him already.
9:30 p.m. Edward is limping towards my car in his crutches, an embarrassed smile playing on his lips. I find his boyish manner charming, and I can’t help but smile back.
"Where to?" I ask.
9:55 p.m. We’re sitting in a cute little sports bar in downtown Fort Lauderdale. I was so worried Edward was going to fall over and bust his ass in one of those crutches, that I didn’t bother to look at the name of the place. The crowd here is a little older, but they’re still drinking up a storm by the bar and watching the Heat game, some people screaming obscenities at the television. The hostess sits us in a booth close to one of the screens (as per Edward’s request). By the time the waiter comes, Edward has already asked me what I’d like to drink and orders for me. I’m not really used to having anyone treat me as if I can’t speak for myself yet I must confess, I’m mildly turned on. For the remainder of the evening, he asks if I’m okay, if I’d like anything else, or if I’m enjoying myself. If indeed I do want something, he gestures for the waiter to come to our table and orders it for me. Not having to ask is a beautiful thing, I think Edward and I are going to be good friends.3:38 p.m. It’s been over an hour and I haven’t heard from him. I’m not the most patient of people, especially when it comes to the telephone. When I text, I expect a reply within three minutes, or I immediately start stalking my phone like a desperate chick stalks her match.com inbox. From experience, I know I’m not the only girl who does this. It’s kind of hard for me to come to terms with the fact that people have jobs, lives, or are maybe just taking a shower when they receive my text. What can I say? I’m psycho that way.
4:20 p.m. I receive a text from Edward with the following picture.
"I totaled my car this morning. At the hospital."Well, that would explain why he hasn’t texted me all day. I’m such an asshole sometimes.
The following trail ensues:
Annah: Please say you’re kidding
Edward: I wish I was.
Annah: Are you alright? I’m so sorry.
Edward: I’m fine. Just not really allowed to use the phone in here. They have me wearing this stupid neck brace and I may be on crutches for a while. Not sure just yet.
Annah: Okay, well just let me know if you need anything.
Edward: I need you. And a glass of whiskey.
Oh my. I wasn’t expecting that answer.
Annah: Now how exactly do I respond to that?
Edward: I wasn’t serious. Well, not 100% anyway. LOL. I do need a glass of whiskey though. I’ll get one when we do dinner tonight.
Annah: You’re still up for dinner? Now I know you're outta your head.
Edward: It’s just an accident, not the end of the world. I’ll text you as soon as I’m home and this neckbrace is off. Talk later.
Hhmmmmmmm. I like him already.
9:30 p.m. Edward is limping towards my car in his crutches, an embarrassed smile playing on his lips. I find his boyish manner charming, and I can’t help but smile back.
"Where to?" I ask.
11:43 p.m. We’ve had some good conversation and I’m slightly flattered that he’s actually made an effort to limp out of his bed and come hang out. I tell him this as I drop him off at his place and he does his best shrugging of the shoulders while holding his crutches. I walk him up the stairs (how chivalrous of me) and he asks if I’d like to come in and “watch some tv or whatever”. I decline and tell him I have to be up early tomorrow. An awkward moment follows and I eventually kiss him on the cheek, giving him a hug before I leave.
When I get to my car, I call Olivia and complain that he didn’t try kissing me goodnight. She says not everyone is a ravenous tiger like Joao. I guess I have to agree, briefly thinking about Joao gives me a flashback of the previous weekend. Shake it off Annah, what’s your problem!?
7:30 p.m. I’m decked out for the Arctic Monkeys concert at the Fillmore in South Beach. Wouldn’t expect much people to know who they are, but they absolutely rock.
As I wait for the girls to get here so we can be on our way, I have a virtual glass of wine with Jack, my out of town lover. A virtual drink is when we go on Skype together and have a nice little happy hour through the computer. I know, we’re complete and utter dorks.9:25 p.m. We're at the Fillmore and the lame opening act has finally finished wailing their sappy songs as the crowd is goes absolutely ballistic over the main act. As they set up their instruments and music plays in the background, hoards of people climb over chairs like ants toward a piece of bread, filling up the mosh pit in under five minutes. No way I’m going down there.
10:05 p.m. I’m having a Heineken the size of a keg, singing along to all my favorite songs....
when suddenly my ex-fiance and the new girlfriend pick their seats two rows in front of us. Vin has already forewarned me days in advance that I’m not allowed to say hello, as this may upset the newbie. I’m more than okay with this and pretend they don’t exist. My girlfriends quickly begin to talk the house of shit about the new girl (why the hostility ladies?) and I insist it’s not necessary. I’m actually surprised but all I feel when I shoot a glance their way, is a weight lifted off my shoulders and a spreading warmth of happiness inside. Thank you Jesus.10:30 p.m. Vin is rubbing his arm oh-so warmly over his girlfriend’s back, gently nuzzling her neck and giving her kisses. I may be okay with this awkward situation, but I’m not made of stone. I’m outta here. Down to the mosh pit I go.
10:50 p.m. Dancing with the cutest guy ever, sipping my Heineken through a straw. It’s funny what twenty minutes and another beer can do.
10:50 p.m. Dancing with the cutest guy ever, sipping my Heineken through a straw. It’s funny what twenty minutes and another beer can do.
11:05 p.m. Sosi, David, Anabella, Lola, Penelope, and yours truly are headed to Automatic Slims for some dancing. On the way, we’re lured into a shitty bowling bar that has $2.00 shots. I can’t believe we fall for such bullshit. As we enter the empty bar, I notice a couple that looks like they belong in a Kid Rock video making out in the corner. Two shady looking dudes are playing pool and undressing us with their eyes. I‘m ready to go. Now.
12:10 a.m. After ten shots of juicy juice at the crappy bowling place, we finally enter Automatic Slims. The crowd isn’t all that better here, mainly composed of a bunch of tourists. I dance with a dark haired boy unenthusiastically. He asks what’s wrong with my eye as he points at my face. I lift my hand to my left eye and realize my fake lashes are coming off. I laugh and peel if off completely as he gives me a weird look and excuses himself. Didn’t take much to scare him away now did it? He was lame anyway.
After banana cream pie and a peanut butter mousse, Edward drops me off at home. I politely invite him inside to watch a movie hoping he declines the offer. Of course, he doesn’t.
2:12 a.m. It’s getting really late and I’m BEYOND exhausted. I want this movie to end so I can call it a night. Ten minutes later the torture is over and I immediately walk Edward to the door. He makes a funny pause and I think he’s going to kiss me, but he just stands there looking out of place. I take the initiative and give him a light kiss on the cheek, saying goodnight and shutting my door before he embarrasses himself any further.
Saturday is spent sleeping and shopping with Cassie, trying to recharge my batteries for the night that lies ahead for Lola's official birthday celebration. I discover that glue-on nails are just as nice as a french manicure (and much cheaper!) Cheers!
I’m going to fast forward through the rest of the day and night because it’s actually rather dull and I don’t want to bore you to tears. Dinner is absolutely, friggin’ delicious. We have a really expensive meal at Bond Street Lounge which is inside the Town House hotel. I eat the tuna tacos I had been lusting over for months and they are exactly how I imagined them to be, orgasmic. The bill turns out to be upwards of $800.00, which makes me nervous because eating with big crowds is always a mission impossible once it’s time to pay. After everyone puts in their two cents, we head to Red Room at the Shoreclub, where I leave over two hundred dollars of my rent monies at the bar (yes, I almost had a fucking heart attack when I saw my bank statement Monday morning). By the time 4:00 a.m. rolls around, only five of us have survived the full evening. 
5:10 a.m. I’m in my Britt’s car, on the way to a friend’s beach apartment. The plan is to hang out and keep drinking. I ask myself what possesses people to plan these sorts of gatherings at this time? The answer is simple: cloudy judgment, mucho liquor.
5:35 a.m. I am at Brick’s (yes, that’s his real name) apartment with Elly and Leonard. Britt received a booty call two minutes before she reached the valet and has now left me stranded here. I’m hungry so I go to the kitchen and go on a scavenger hunt for food. No, there’s never anything at a man’s apartment, so I have to console myself with Ritz crackers and a Coors Light (who drinks this shit anyway!?). Ughh!
6:05 a.m. The sun is coming up and I’ve become quite tired of watching Brick and the other boys play Wii. Seeing that everyone is drunk and I have no ride home, I say goodnight and stumble all the way to the last room of the apartment. I forget to ask Brick if he has any room mates, but this bed right here is looking pretty comfortable and it’s empty, so I’m laying in it!
11:32 a.m. I can hear the ocean waves slowly coming and going away from the shore, crashing dreamily in my ears. I lay happily in bed, laziness completely washing over me. I slowly open my eyes to find a young, dirty blonde guy lying next to me. He’s wrapped in his own separate blanket, like a little cocooned butterfly. Ahhhh, he’s a joy to look at, what a beautiful dream.
11:35 a.m. The realization that the person next to me isn’t part of a dream dawns on me in a flash, striking me like a lightning bolt. I open my eyes wildly and rub them, my dry contacts impeding me from actually focusing on the creature next to me. I look down and I’m still wrapped in last night’s comforter, my dress and underwear precisely where they should be. I panic and pop both my contacts out of my eyes. The man sleeping next to me is either dead or a heavy sleeper; he doesn’t move at all. I practically fall off the bed in my frantic attempt to get out of there and find Brick. When I make it to his room, he’s sleeping naked in his bed, a pillow strategically placed between his legs. Eww. I stumble back and twist my foot on the way to the kitchen, my heart practically beating out my chest when I spot Elly nonchalantly opening a beer as if it were the most natural thing to do on a Sunday morning.
“What the fuck is wrong with you dude?” he says, an eyebrow cocked in amusement.
Thank God. A familiar face.
11:42 a.m. Elly has grabbed me a beer and we’re sitting on the balcony, overlooking the ocean.
I proceed to tell him what just happened and he laughs uncontrollably, ignoring my glares.
“That’s Brick’s room mate, Steve,” he laughs, shaking his head. “It’s not his fault you made yourself at home in his bed.”
“But he wasn’t in that bed when I got there,” I protested.
“Yeah, he walked in a while later. Still his bed though.” He finishes his beer and gets up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his handsome face squinting in the sun. “One more?”
“Sure,” I wink at him, my heart finally resuming its normal rhythm. “Why the hell not.”
12:25 p.m. We’ve jumped from all sorts of unlinked subjects. Elly has basically told me I’m not a “complete” woman because I know how to do everything except iron, and “a woman who doesn’t know how to iron, isn’t a woman at all.” I resist the urge to break my beer bottle over his head when I remember how long we’ve been friends and let it slide. I smile and agree sarcastically but give him a look that says “shut up now or I kill you.” He laughs and suggests we go to lunch. Good idea.
1:35 p.m. It’s a little breezy outside and I’m still wearing last night’s dress, along with my heels and a sports jacket Elly has kindly lent me. People in South Beach are wearing their shorts and bikinis, indiscreetly gawking at me as if I were E.T. trying to phone home. Elly, Brick, Penelope and myself are having lunch at Sushi Samba on Lincoln Road. Everyone orders margaritas except for Brick, who says he feels like throwing up a few of his unborn babies. After lobster tacos and spicy tuna rolls, we say our goodbyes and Penelope takes me home. As soon as I walk through the door I get a text from Edward inviting me over for some “mean hamburgers and a movie”, but as enticing as the idea sounds, I hit the delete button and shut my phone off.
12:10 a.m. After ten shots of juicy juice at the crappy bowling place, we finally enter Automatic Slims. The crowd isn’t all that better here, mainly composed of a bunch of tourists. I dance with a dark haired boy unenthusiastically. He asks what’s wrong with my eye as he points at my face. I lift my hand to my left eye and realize my fake lashes are coming off. I laugh and peel if off completely as he gives me a weird look and excuses himself. Didn’t take much to scare him away now did it? He was lame anyway.3:20 a.m. I’m home, I have no voice from screaming every song at the top of my lungs, and I’m tired as all hell. I’ve had a Greek wrap, a slice of pizza, and God knows how many beers yet when I arrive to my place, I have an insatiable craving for refried beans. I pull some out of a can, mix them with cheese and hot sauce, and heat 'em up in the microwave. I don’t remember much after that except waking up the next day, still wearing my black leather gloves, which are now smeared with something that looks like poop. I wonder how those beans got there and walk to my kitchen. The bowl of beans is sitting right on the bar, my false eyelashes are next to it. Weird.
3:30 p.m. It’s Lola’s birthday and we’re having lunch at Stir Krazy. These delicious mango martinis have made the heat bearable. 
After stuffing our faces with Mongolian beef, stir fry, chocolate cake, and banana wontons, our fortune cookies come. My fortune tells me something I already knew.
I decide to put my fortune to the test and ask Edward to dinner at a pricey restaurant I’ve been dying to go to. It works.
10:45 p.m. I’m at Seasons 52 having dinner with Edward, our second official date is well under way. The restaurant itself is beautiful, with low lighting and a live jazz band playing by the mahogany bar. The concept of the restaurant is to change the menu every season, according to the fish and wine selections available. If you’re in the South Florida area you should definitely check it out. Tonight I can’t get my mind off scallops and that is exactly what I order.
Edward and I are getting along famously, without any of the awkward silences that are so typical of first official dates. We talk about the usual stuff (work, past relationships, music, religion) but I can’t really say I have a desire to climb over this table and rip his shirt off (for me, that’s a great indicator of how much I like the person). It doesn’t necessarily mean I would rip anyone’s shirt off (that’s a lie) but it’s GOT to be there. It’s not.
3:30 p.m. It’s Lola’s birthday and we’re having lunch at Stir Krazy. These delicious mango martinis have made the heat bearable. After stuffing our faces with Mongolian beef, stir fry, chocolate cake, and banana wontons, our fortune cookies come. My fortune tells me something I already knew. I decide to put my fortune to the test and ask Edward to dinner at a pricey restaurant I’ve been dying to go to. It works.10:45 p.m. I’m at Seasons 52 having dinner with Edward, our second official date is well under way. The restaurant itself is beautiful, with low lighting and a live jazz band playing by the mahogany bar. The concept of the restaurant is to change the menu every season, according to the fish and wine selections available. If you’re in the South Florida area you should definitely check it out. Tonight I can’t get my mind off scallops and that is exactly what I order.
Edward and I are getting along famously, without any of the awkward silences that are so typical of first official dates. We talk about the usual stuff (work, past relationships, music, religion) but I can’t really say I have a desire to climb over this table and rip his shirt off (for me, that’s a great indicator of how much I like the person). It doesn’t necessarily mean I would rip anyone’s shirt off (that’s a lie) but it’s GOT to be there. It’s not.
After banana cream pie and a peanut butter mousse, Edward drops me off at home. I politely invite him inside to watch a movie hoping he declines the offer. Of course, he doesn’t.2:12 a.m. It’s getting really late and I’m BEYOND exhausted. I want this movie to end so I can call it a night. Ten minutes later the torture is over and I immediately walk Edward to the door. He makes a funny pause and I think he’s going to kiss me, but he just stands there looking out of place. I take the initiative and give him a light kiss on the cheek, saying goodnight and shutting my door before he embarrasses himself any further.
Saturday is spent sleeping and shopping with Cassie, trying to recharge my batteries for the night that lies ahead for Lola's official birthday celebration. I discover that glue-on nails are just as nice as a french manicure (and much cheaper!) Cheers!
I’m going to fast forward through the rest of the day and night because it’s actually rather dull and I don’t want to bore you to tears. Dinner is absolutely, friggin’ delicious. We have a really expensive meal at Bond Street Lounge which is inside the Town House hotel. I eat the tuna tacos I had been lusting over for months and they are exactly how I imagined them to be, orgasmic. The bill turns out to be upwards of $800.00, which makes me nervous because eating with big crowds is always a mission impossible once it’s time to pay. After everyone puts in their two cents, we head to Red Room at the Shoreclub, where I leave over two hundred dollars of my rent monies at the bar (yes, I almost had a fucking heart attack when I saw my bank statement Monday morning). By the time 4:00 a.m. rolls around, only five of us have survived the full evening. 5:10 a.m. I’m in my Britt’s car, on the way to a friend’s beach apartment. The plan is to hang out and keep drinking. I ask myself what possesses people to plan these sorts of gatherings at this time? The answer is simple: cloudy judgment, mucho liquor.5:35 a.m. I am at Brick’s (yes, that’s his real name) apartment with Elly and Leonard. Britt received a booty call two minutes before she reached the valet and has now left me stranded here. I’m hungry so I go to the kitchen and go on a scavenger hunt for food. No, there’s never anything at a man’s apartment, so I have to console myself with Ritz crackers and a Coors Light (who drinks this shit anyway!?). Ughh!
6:05 a.m. The sun is coming up and I’ve become quite tired of watching Brick and the other boys play Wii. Seeing that everyone is drunk and I have no ride home, I say goodnight and stumble all the way to the last room of the apartment. I forget to ask Brick if he has any room mates, but this bed right here is looking pretty comfortable and it’s empty, so I’m laying in it!
11:32 a.m. I can hear the ocean waves slowly coming and going away from the shore, crashing dreamily in my ears. I lay happily in bed, laziness completely washing over me. I slowly open my eyes to find a young, dirty blonde guy lying next to me. He’s wrapped in his own separate blanket, like a little cocooned butterfly. Ahhhh, he’s a joy to look at, what a beautiful dream.
11:35 a.m. The realization that the person next to me isn’t part of a dream dawns on me in a flash, striking me like a lightning bolt. I open my eyes wildly and rub them, my dry contacts impeding me from actually focusing on the creature next to me. I look down and I’m still wrapped in last night’s comforter, my dress and underwear precisely where they should be. I panic and pop both my contacts out of my eyes. The man sleeping next to me is either dead or a heavy sleeper; he doesn’t move at all. I practically fall off the bed in my frantic attempt to get out of there and find Brick. When I make it to his room, he’s sleeping naked in his bed, a pillow strategically placed between his legs. Eww. I stumble back and twist my foot on the way to the kitchen, my heart practically beating out my chest when I spot Elly nonchalantly opening a beer as if it were the most natural thing to do on a Sunday morning.
“What the fuck is wrong with you dude?” he says, an eyebrow cocked in amusement.
Thank God. A familiar face.
11:42 a.m. Elly has grabbed me a beer and we’re sitting on the balcony, overlooking the ocean.
I proceed to tell him what just happened and he laughs uncontrollably, ignoring my glares.“That’s Brick’s room mate, Steve,” he laughs, shaking his head. “It’s not his fault you made yourself at home in his bed.”
“But he wasn’t in that bed when I got there,” I protested.
“Yeah, he walked in a while later. Still his bed though.” He finishes his beer and gets up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his handsome face squinting in the sun. “One more?”
“Sure,” I wink at him, my heart finally resuming its normal rhythm. “Why the hell not.”
12:25 p.m. We’ve jumped from all sorts of unlinked subjects. Elly has basically told me I’m not a “complete” woman because I know how to do everything except iron, and “a woman who doesn’t know how to iron, isn’t a woman at all.” I resist the urge to break my beer bottle over his head when I remember how long we’ve been friends and let it slide. I smile and agree sarcastically but give him a look that says “shut up now or I kill you.” He laughs and suggests we go to lunch. Good idea.
1:35 p.m. It’s a little breezy outside and I’m still wearing last night’s dress, along with my heels and a sports jacket Elly has kindly lent me. People in South Beach are wearing their shorts and bikinis, indiscreetly gawking at me as if I were E.T. trying to phone home. Elly, Brick, Penelope and myself are having lunch at Sushi Samba on Lincoln Road. Everyone orders margaritas except for Brick, who says he feels like throwing up a few of his unborn babies. After lobster tacos and spicy tuna rolls, we say our goodbyes and Penelope takes me home. As soon as I walk through the door I get a text from Edward inviting me over for some “mean hamburgers and a movie”, but as enticing as the idea sounds, I hit the delete button and shut my phone off.
It's 4:30 p.m. on Sunday and I feel like I could sleep all the way 'til Wednesday. I'm hanging up my dancing shoes and refuse to put them on until I arrive in Buenos Aires. Now, let's see how successful I am.
2 comments:
I found your blog and I read a few and decided to start from the begining I really love your blog. Especially the chronichles. And I liked Jaou! lol He did pull a jerk move, though. Good going, Annah!!
I liked Joao too. He served his purpose mighty well. Trust me. Hmmm yummy!
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