Wow, I never finished Teach

I profusely apologize. I just realized that I never finished the Teach story. Actually, that's not true. I didn't even realize it - a reader did. And this kind (but kinda pushy) reader informed me of this via email. I'm on it!

So, after several phone conversations, Teach finally proposes an actual date. He suggests dinner at the Asian restaurant at a nearby casino. I cringe, but decide to roll with it. Here's the deal: I love Asian food. I had Asian food for lunch today. It is yummy. However, I usually avoid Asian restaurants on first dates...actually, on the first SEVERAL dates for one very specific reason: I can't work chopsticks. At all. I can strut around in some ridonkulously high heels, but those little sticks kick my ass. I prefer to wait until the guy thinks I'm adorable until I unashamedly pull out the fork while everyone else is wielding chopsticks. But - that's what Teach picked, and I do love it when a guy comes up with a plan for a date. Seriously, if you're going to ask me out, don't then say, "So...whatcha wanna do?" Make a freakin' plan! My job is to look hot; yours is to plan the date.

So, we meet at this casino. And, I have to say, I was looking pretty damn cute. My friend (let's call her Dorothy) helped me with my outfit: low-cut (but not sluttily so) red dress and a pair of rockin' heels (Steve Madden, 5 inch with a hidden platform, very strappy and with a zipper). I walk in ... and I notice him immediately. He basically looks the same as he did when he was my teacher, just a little gray in the blond hair. He's a good distance away from me, so I check him out as I approach. Here's the observation:

1. Good smile, thank-the-goodness, I have severe issues with teeth. SEVERE.
2. Very thin, but not too thin.
3. Very, very tan - and it's March. Most people are still pale and sickly. Not me, of course. My sister has a tanning bed. Spare me your "sun is bad" stories. I know this. I am not uneducated. But you know these are indisputable facts: everyone looks better with a tan, and cellulite, most especially, looks better tan. If you saw my thighs, you would agree.
4. Outfit - oh, we have a problem. I know he is a coach, but did he really need to wear a Nike sport shirt on our date? And the jeans - have mercy - they are late eighties stonewash. And crapdoggit (that's the cuss word I use around my kids. Don't judge me. What do you say?) he is wearing white tennis shoes. This is when I start my mantra for the night - "focus on the face, focus on the face."

I walk up and say hello. He smiles and says it's nice to meet me. I, of course, make a crack about the fact that we've already met before and that I thought about teasing my bangs to make me more recognizable. He blushes. Interesting...

Dinner is okay. The conversation is fine, but it's clear he is nervous. It's a tad bit charming, though. Well, it's either his nervousness I find charming or the fact that he's told me about 10 times that I'm pretty. He also compliments my dress. I tell him Dorothy picked it out. He says, "Wow, thank her for me."

We talk some more...and just when I think I have him pegged as impossibly shy (too shy for me, definitely), he blurts out (right when I put a big bite of food in my mouth with the fork - not the chopsticks, of course): "So, your brother-in-law Coolio informs me that I said 'orgasm' in class, you had to look it up in a dictionary when you got home, and that's your only memory of me as a teacher."

I try not to choke on my food (which was pretty good, actually. I'd go back.), and I stammer, "He told you that? Nice. It's true, though. That's my memory of you: orgasm."

Teach: "And you really didn't know what it meant?"
Me: "No. Clueless. I was fairly naive."
Teach: "And you really looked it up in the dictionary?"
Me: "Yes. That's what I do when I don't know a word."
Teach: "And your thought was?..."
Me: "I didn't get it."
Teach: "What do you mean you didn't get it? It's pretty straightforward."
Me: "Well, the thing itself is, yes. But have you ever looked up the definition?"
Teach: "Well, no."
Me: "Well, you should. And then imagine that you are a very naive 14 year old who thinks a blow job means you actually stand in front of a penis and blow on it."

Then it was his turn to choke on his food.

Gotta run, but I will finish tonight, crapdoggit!


Hugs and kisses and candycane wishes,
Annabelly