Facetious Financier wouldn’t tell me how he got the photo of my butt, but it was posted on Facebook for a while because I was in the midst of my midlife crisis at the time and, well, why not, right?
I was already on my way out of real estate at that point―at least mentally―so might as well throw on a dominatrix outfit and go parading around in public. (But it was Vegas, and I was one of a trio, so it wasn’t like I was the only.)
I would be deeply ashamed of myself for this―and several other escapades―except for the fact that I say shame on shame! Plus, my shenanigans inspire people; they know that they can redeem themselves from complete idiocy and become self-love gurus, just like did I aspire to! *sideways glance*
(Actually, I don’t want to be a “guru.” It sounds arrogant and egotistical and implies all-knowing. And all I know is that I never want to know it all. Because … then what? Exactly.)
Back to the Financier. I went for a drink date with FF after finding out that he remembered I was a professional realtor in a black crop and orange Page Boy wig …
But first, note to self:
A normal gal might be wigged out that a guy remembers her (rear end) after nine years, especially having never met her. I was wearing a wig, after all.
It goes to show that making an ass of oneself by displaying one’s ass can make a lasting impression.
If you read my original blog, First Date #3: Facetious Financier, you also know I showed up to the high-end venue in jeans, a t-shirt and converse runners because I ran out of clothes to wear.
Quick little info-mission because it has been a while: I gave notice to my rooomie in Vancouver. I need my own nest where I won’t feel weird talking to myself out loud, even though I’m sure she doesn’t mind. I pack up all my stuff and go “home” to Vancouver Island to be with family―sad time, but peaceful with real nature sounds―then back to Van to meet with clients and other business associates who I’ve neglected for a month. And I look for a place to live because I’m homeless in T-minus today, y’all! Silver lining: I’ll achieve my dream of living in Gastown! Out of a shopping cart―but still.
Back in Van for the last couple days of the month, I figure I might as well throw in a few dates because I’m certainly not busy enough. This roughly translates into: I’m still an idiot.
Which brings us full circle: back to Facetious Financier. I’ll save you a double-read by not reviewing the details again here, but I will recap my general learnings for the last month or so …
What have we (re-)learned:
The sound of live birds chirping outside my window in the morning is better than the “nature and birds” alarm I downloaded to my iPhone that scares the bejesus out of me every morning.
I’m not a love guru, but I know what true love is because I witnessed it for a month between two people who I love. I’m also of the fortunate few who has true love shared with family. Our close bond is magnified by grief, but nonetheless permanently etched. (I’m sure you’ll fill in the blanks.)
Sleeping on a couch or in a closet can be quite comfy (with real-bird-chirping background sounds).
Never underestimate the power of a great costume. Or lack thereof.
Love is the answer. I do know that much.
Faux pas we all said and/or thought:
“I just scrubbed that bathroom to within an inch of its―oh, never mind.”
“Wrecked ‘im? Darn near kil―shit, never mind.”
“I’m dying for a decent cup of coff-faaack. Sorry.”
Also, never, never, never, never break out into spontaneous song like How Great Thou Art. That’ll just get you a well deserved punch to the throat.
Amen.
P.S. If you feel like following my 50 First Dates project, subscribe to my Wingmam newsletter here (scroll down).
P.P.S. Entertaining education―aka me making an ass of myself on video―and giving non-guru dating, love and relationship advice is over here… #JustTheTip? WingmamTV YouTube
