August now - fresh from an emotional thrashing courtesy of John #2 (John of the North). Enter - Johnny (oy! another one that keeps the kiddy nickname!). Not too attractive, not too ugly - a good antidote for John #2, I thought. The pretty ones are always trouble. Always. But dammit those are the ones I'm drawn to....but I digress. Johnny had an uber-respectable job: city planner of a local, wealthy city (city name not revealed to protect the innocent). A smidge younger (-2 years), educated, well-travelled, variety of interests (soccer, scuba, travel, food) and local - always a bonus. His choice of meeting place scored him major points - lunch at a lovely new resort in Palos Verdes - Terranea. We sat outside - it was a glorious day - and had a nice lunch. He was a little pudgy, but tall. His looks were doable. More points were awarded for chivalry as he offered me his jacket when we walked after lunch and a chilly wind kicked up. He had some funny yet alarming travel stories - about being chased by a small mob in Morocco, for example. He seemed to revel in being perceived as a trouble-maker. He was delighted that I had my PADI certification and decided that our next date would be a scuba-date. "Fun", I thought. I had only gone diving in tropical climes before - local seemed intriguing.
We arranged to meet the Friday evening before to get fitted for a wetsuit rental (for me) and all the other equipment. We met at the dive shop. It was time to try on a wetsuit. Now, I'm not a skinny girl - I am decidedly "curvy" (translation: big ass, big boobs=hard to fit). I was mortified when the wetsuit given to me wouldn't zip past my boobs. Even more mortifying was the assistance I required getting into the next size up. Kinda unorthodox to be sweating like crazy and having your push-up bra oozing out of a wetsuit while your date is struggling to zip you up. But hey - unorthodox is how I roll. Johnny generously paid for my rental equipment and we decided to go for a drink after "the fitting". We had a nice chat that evening but I wasn't able to stay out too long. He picked me up at 9:00 the next morning where we would return to Terranea - which happen to be a decent launching point for a dive. When we got there, we took two long trips dragging all the gear down the cliff, to the beach. I was trying to be a good sport but, I suddenly realized the appeal of resort diving (you don't have to carry shit!). So we dragged our tanks, wetsuits and gear all the way down only to discover that the conditions were less than ideal. The few divers we encountered coming out of the water said it was lousy. Johnny had a few alternate sites so - again with two trips, we hauled all of our stuff back up the cliff and set out for destination #2. I was exhausted and ready to go home for a nap. We drove further down the coast to alternate locale #1. It sucked as well (but at least we didn't have to schlep anything around to discover that). Alternate locale #2 was this beach in San Pedro (Pt. Fermin?) Not the most ideal, but the conditions were better plus - big bonus for me - it was level entry (no cliffs!). We suited up - he was obviously knowledgeable and extremely helpful and patient. I didn't have gloves or booties to go with my full body wetsuit(with hood!) I knew nothing of this kind of gear because the few times I dove before, a bathing suit was all you needed. He warned me it would be cold. That was a gross understatement. I entered the water gloveless and with improvised foot protection: his gym socks inside my crocs, wedged inside my flippers. It did not suffice. The water was SO FUCKING COLD. I wanted to be a sport - I refrained from whining....at first. We swam breathlessly to the distant buoy. It was horrible. I vacillated between wanting to cry and wanting to scream. But again - I wanted to be a trooper so, I kept my whimpering to a minimum. Finally we arrived at the buoy and it was time to descend. I nearly had a heart attack when the ice cold water covered my face. I had an instant, blinding headache. We continued to descend - probably about 20 ft. or so to the floor. The visibility was bupkes. Nada. Zippo. I signaled that I had enough and we went back up. He agreed that it was miserable. I unleashed my whining. My feet and hands were numb, my face blue and my head pounding. I think that even my tongue was cold. It seemed like an eternity to get back to shore - but I was so grateful to be there. We rinsed our stuff and defrosted inside his pigpen of a car. We instituted Plan B: tapas and sangria in Long Beach. Now we're talkin'. Screw this scuba bullshit... I noticed on the drive, Johnny would drive aggressively and yell obscenities out the window at offending drivers. Maybe a little high-strung, I told myself. We had a lovely afternoon chowing down and drinking and people watching on Pine Ave. He talked about his fellow Mensa member ex-wife. He seemed a little hostile, but I was a tipsy land-lubber - so I couldn't give a crap about his ex. We enjoyed a nice kiss when he dropped me off. Though to be honest, I had so much sangria in me I would have enjoyed a nice kiss with my mom's dachshund, Penny.
Our next date was another first - a soccer game: the L.A. Galaxy vs. Kansas City(?) at the Home Depot Center in Carson. We "tailgated" prior to the game. He had no less than 8 beers while we leaned on his car in the parking lot. I was alarmed at his capacity to drink so much in such a short time while seeming unaffected. Once seated he went and got me a margarita and he got himself a giant (40 oz.??) beer. We had good corner seats. I was eagerly looking around - this was my first live soccer game and I was still a little randy after watching all those studly Spaniards in the World Cup the month before (meow!). Some children paraded through the stadium prior to start of the game. There was no one sitting in front or to the side of us. Suddenly, this couple came and stood directly in front of us to frantically wave to their child on the field. This was extremely annoying. If they had just moved a few feet in either direction, they wouldn't be in front of anyone - but no. I would have said something like "excuse me, could you please move to the side?" But no. Johnny said, "hey - do you mind? you see your kid every day." Oh my. Granted - their rudeness - intentional or not - probably deserved this kind of wise-ass remark. But I am a peace-loving Libra. We just don't do that shit. I was mortified. The parents scuffled away, their feathers a little ruffled. I sat silent as Johnny realized that I did not approve. We sat near a group of hooligans(?) - soccer groupies that have their chants and outfits, etc. I learned that Johnny chose our seats to be near them. Johnny downed his beer and went for another. As the game progressed, I was privy to classy hooligan chants that contained phrases like, "...fuck your mother.." I was not impressed. Johnny shouted along with them as I sat silently. Not all the chants were so foul, but the impression had been made. After the game, we went back to his car where he drank 3 more beers. It now appeared that he was drunk. I insisted on driving his car, to drop me off. He assured me he was okay to drive home. He gave me a sloppy kiss good night and we parted ways. I texted him to make sure he made it home okay, which he did. I thanked him for a lovely evening.
Adios John #3
We arranged to meet the Friday evening before to get fitted for a wetsuit rental (for me) and all the other equipment. We met at the dive shop. It was time to try on a wetsuit. Now, I'm not a skinny girl - I am decidedly "curvy" (translation: big ass, big boobs=hard to fit). I was mortified when the wetsuit given to me wouldn't zip past my boobs. Even more mortifying was the assistance I required getting into the next size up. Kinda unorthodox to be sweating like crazy and having your push-up bra oozing out of a wetsuit while your date is struggling to zip you up. But hey - unorthodox is how I roll. Johnny generously paid for my rental equipment and we decided to go for a drink after "the fitting". We had a nice chat that evening but I wasn't able to stay out too long. He picked me up at 9:00 the next morning where we would return to Terranea - which happen to be a decent launching point for a dive. When we got there, we took two long trips dragging all the gear down the cliff, to the beach. I was trying to be a good sport but, I suddenly realized the appeal of resort diving (you don't have to carry shit!). So we dragged our tanks, wetsuits and gear all the way down only to discover that the conditions were less than ideal. The few divers we encountered coming out of the water said it was lousy. Johnny had a few alternate sites so - again with two trips, we hauled all of our stuff back up the cliff and set out for destination #2. I was exhausted and ready to go home for a nap. We drove further down the coast to alternate locale #1. It sucked as well (but at least we didn't have to schlep anything around to discover that). Alternate locale #2 was this beach in San Pedro (Pt. Fermin?) Not the most ideal, but the conditions were better plus - big bonus for me - it was level entry (no cliffs!). We suited up - he was obviously knowledgeable and extremely helpful and patient. I didn't have gloves or booties to go with my full body wetsuit(with hood!) I knew nothing of this kind of gear because the few times I dove before, a bathing suit was all you needed. He warned me it would be cold. That was a gross understatement. I entered the water gloveless and with improvised foot protection: his gym socks inside my crocs, wedged inside my flippers. It did not suffice. The water was SO FUCKING COLD. I wanted to be a sport - I refrained from whining....at first. We swam breathlessly to the distant buoy. It was horrible. I vacillated between wanting to cry and wanting to scream. But again - I wanted to be a trooper so, I kept my whimpering to a minimum. Finally we arrived at the buoy and it was time to descend. I nearly had a heart attack when the ice cold water covered my face. I had an instant, blinding headache. We continued to descend - probably about 20 ft. or so to the floor. The visibility was bupkes. Nada. Zippo. I signaled that I had enough and we went back up. He agreed that it was miserable. I unleashed my whining. My feet and hands were numb, my face blue and my head pounding. I think that even my tongue was cold. It seemed like an eternity to get back to shore - but I was so grateful to be there. We rinsed our stuff and defrosted inside his pigpen of a car. We instituted Plan B: tapas and sangria in Long Beach. Now we're talkin'. Screw this scuba bullshit... I noticed on the drive, Johnny would drive aggressively and yell obscenities out the window at offending drivers. Maybe a little high-strung, I told myself. We had a lovely afternoon chowing down and drinking and people watching on Pine Ave. He talked about his fellow Mensa member ex-wife. He seemed a little hostile, but I was a tipsy land-lubber - so I couldn't give a crap about his ex. We enjoyed a nice kiss when he dropped me off. Though to be honest, I had so much sangria in me I would have enjoyed a nice kiss with my mom's dachshund, Penny.
Our next date was another first - a soccer game: the L.A. Galaxy vs. Kansas City(?) at the Home Depot Center in Carson. We "tailgated" prior to the game. He had no less than 8 beers while we leaned on his car in the parking lot. I was alarmed at his capacity to drink so much in such a short time while seeming unaffected. Once seated he went and got me a margarita and he got himself a giant (40 oz.??) beer. We had good corner seats. I was eagerly looking around - this was my first live soccer game and I was still a little randy after watching all those studly Spaniards in the World Cup the month before (meow!). Some children paraded through the stadium prior to start of the game. There was no one sitting in front or to the side of us. Suddenly, this couple came and stood directly in front of us to frantically wave to their child on the field. This was extremely annoying. If they had just moved a few feet in either direction, they wouldn't be in front of anyone - but no. I would have said something like "excuse me, could you please move to the side?" But no. Johnny said, "hey - do you mind? you see your kid every day." Oh my. Granted - their rudeness - intentional or not - probably deserved this kind of wise-ass remark. But I am a peace-loving Libra. We just don't do that shit. I was mortified. The parents scuffled away, their feathers a little ruffled. I sat silent as Johnny realized that I did not approve. We sat near a group of hooligans(?) - soccer groupies that have their chants and outfits, etc. I learned that Johnny chose our seats to be near them. Johnny downed his beer and went for another. As the game progressed, I was privy to classy hooligan chants that contained phrases like, "...fuck your mother.." I was not impressed. Johnny shouted along with them as I sat silently. Not all the chants were so foul, but the impression had been made. After the game, we went back to his car where he drank 3 more beers. It now appeared that he was drunk. I insisted on driving his car, to drop me off. He assured me he was okay to drive home. He gave me a sloppy kiss good night and we parted ways. I texted him to make sure he made it home okay, which he did. I thanked him for a lovely evening.
Adios John #3
No comments:
Post a Comment