Lived & learned from fools and from sages.

“You gotta love it, though. Somebody still speaks with from his soul.” – Kanye West

I already recognize that through the course of this post I’m going to upset a few people (dear upset people: please don’t talk to me about me upsetting you. I don’t give a shit).

“Fuck ya’ll then..” – Eminem

As we have countless times discussed, Thursdays are my days “off”. This Thursday I only had two things I had to do, but they were fairly important. As usual I had a few minor items to do, but late in the afternoon I had to go to a meeting. A while ago I had mentioned (I think) I wanted to do some type of giving back, but couldn’t figure out what. I finally settled on the Big Brother Big Sister Program. Originally they didn’t think they could “match” me because of my weird schedule.

That was a while back. Recently I was contacted and told that they had a potential match. I was torn between fear-induced paralysis and a bit of excitement. After a few hiccups I finally met my “Little” on Thursday. A rep from BBBS was there to fill out paperwork  and basically explain how it will all work. He seemed like a very nice kid. He has 2 sisters, both of whom are in the program. Apparently he had been waiting to be matched for a while (about 2 years) and was glad to potentially be matched. (I laughed when I got the address because even as I try to forget certain parts of my life-or people who were in it-this place was smack in the middle of the area someone who used to mean a lot used to live in. If I was foolish enough to be religious, I would think a higher power likes to fuck with me on a regular basis, no matter what I do, just to see if I’ll fold.)


For the most part I like the program. There are a few things that stand out as glaring flaws. I can’t recall how often you ‘must’ see your “Little”, but it struck me as odd to have such a strict timetable for a volunteer. No wonder they don’t have enough people volunteer. Hey, BBBS: I’ll do my best to abide by that rule, but I’m not famous for following rules. I’m doing this to give back. To help. To pay forward. To make a difference. Don’t get on my bad side.

Anyway, the “Little” is a 13 year old hispanic kid. Pretty soft spoken and initially shy. He has trouble with grammar, his favorite food is pasta, favorite class is math and apparently has a few issues with anger and authority. After speaking with the Little, the mother and his sisters we left. I agreed to try and take the Little out for a bite on Sunday.

Immediately following that stop, I drove up to a wedding rehearsal. I can’t recall the last time I went to one. I asked the groom-to-be what I should wear for this rehearsal and he said it was nothing formal. Jeans and a tee shirt would be just fine. He might have been right. I had no way of knowing. I was the most dressed down person there. It’s fine. I always seem to be “the most” something or the other. Not that it would necessarily mean something good, it just happens to be that way.

I started off rather quiet at the rehearsal. It was funny that the bride was trying to figure out what she wanted and the groom just wanted to make sure she got it how she wanted. It was briefly a humorous confusion. I confess I was very worried about the bridesmaid because although I’m not having dollar bills thrown at me while I walk, I thought it would be nice if I walked with a cute bridesmaid. I was pleasantly surprised to have a very attractive bridesmaid be the one I walked with. At that stage we could have rehearsed that walk a couple dozen more times for all I cared. Dear bridesmaid: You’re hot. You know who I am; I’m the unshaven, torn-jean wearing grumpy looking guy who strayed from the crowd when I could.

On Friday a friend suggested meeting up. I agreed to meet up for a drink or two – I should have known better. I agreed to meet her and her friends at Tarpon’s Bend. This place is exactly the type of place that every cell in my body despises. There is not one person there for comfort (you’re elbow to elbow), there is not one person there for the service (getting up and going to the bar, getting a drink and sitting down is at least a 10 minute process EACH TIME), there is not one person there to get to know someone (the music was so loud that the only way to communicate was to lean in and have that person pass the message along). This is just a place where people tend to dress in their brand name outfits, over the top tiny wardrobe for women and people sit/stand outside drinking and posing. This reeked of pretentiousness. It embodied everything I have ever hated about Miami. Had it not been due to the fact that I agreed to meet, I would have gotten the hell out of there. Things only got slightly better when shots were served.

From there we went to a place called Bougainvillea. It ‘s not the pretentious type of place at all. It was still just too loud for my taste. Maybe in my quest to leave things behind I’m being a bit more social than I’m comfortable with. Maybe it’s time to rethink that strategy? I have to think this over. By the time we were leaving, my mood was changing. I was already starting to feel a bit more like my usual aggravated self. I decided to follow the group to the last bar. It seemed some had made the acquaintance of some new guys on the way. I trailed back debating if I should bother. My mood had soured. Unfortunately I noticed two of the guys that were behind them chose to trail too. One of them (the stereotypical miami haircut, overly tight shirt and a fake ass gangsta lean) says something to me. I don’t recall what it was, but his significantly more sober friend told him to just keep walking, but he insisted. The little ambassador for Miami douchebaggery actually was stupid enough to try to stand face to face with me challenging me to do something. His life flashed before my eyes. I told his friend that I was going to warn him one time and one time only. I wasn’t looking for trouble, but if he didn’t pull his friend away, he was going to have to carry him away. Fortunately the friend realized I wasn’t kidding and he got his friend back in with the group. Dear Miami Douchebaggery Ambassador: Never tell someone what you’re going to do. Do it or don’t. The “new” me saved you a hospital visit because approaching me with your hands down and trying to get in my face with no defense AND while drunk should have resulted in a beautiful knockout. “You’re a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a Stan.  I’ll still whip your ass..” – Nas

Either way, by this time I was already starting to lose any interest in partying out, but I did the usual fake smile and went in. (the brave guy apologized). I started to pick up on something. The friend I went with is the one that ruined some fun in the past for catching feelings. However, the friends seemed to not be able to hide the fact that I was somehow “off limits”. I tested my theory twice. One I got a little farther than the other, but eventually both said they were that girl’s friends and it wouldn’t be right. I wasn’t able to have anyone explain how that would be the case if I’m single. That’s when I realized I had made a horrible mistake going out on my own with this group on my own. I laughably was off limits since I had hooked up with one. It was nearly humorous. Eventually due to something unrelated they had some inner drama and I had enough and left. I knew not to make the same mistake again. Dear girl and friends: The only person who determines if I’m on or off limits is me. Nobody else. I don’t have a wife, girlfriend, mistress, blow up doll or anything that even remotely comes close to a relationship.

I went home late as hell and slept. Next was the wedding. As everyone knows, I don’t like weddings. It seems not only archaic, but it seems like a waste of money. Women are brainwashed into wanting a wedding, but the practical side of me says that the money you spend on what is essentially a party could be used for a down payment on a house, a vacation, upgrading all aspects of your honeymoon. I don’t know.

I got to the wedding and I arrived dressed. Everyone else came with their tuxes in their bags and went to the locker room to change. I wound up in a locker room fully dressed waiting and chatting with partially naked men. By then my anxiety started kicking in and the tie felt a bit too tight. Once we were all ready and outside you could see the excitement in the guys, though. Friends and family were nervous and happy. Then there was me. I was looking at the place; it was actually very pretty. It was relatively close to my house, but I never knew it was there. Eventually the ladies arrived. All looking incredible. It wasn’t the stereotypical ugly bridesmaid dresses. They all looked great and after a few minutes of confusion we lined up again next to the bridesmaids as assigned. I thought the unlucky bridesmaid that was assigned to me was hot. Turns out I thought she was delicious like a two piece and a biscuit. I didn’t even want to look in her direction, though. She had such a cute face (and eyes) that screamed of being prison-young and Lee does NOT look good in orange. Dear bridesmaid: I was partially correct. You’re not only hot, but hotter than I thought. Fortunately for you, you have a boyfriend AND seeing as to how you’re 26 an I’m 35, well, even if you were single that kind of killed it. I do give you props, though. A girl as hot as you would absolutely make me rethink my monk-like non-dating stance. 

Anyway, we managed to do our walk without me tripping and falling on my eyelid or something equally Lee-like. I confess I enjoyed the slow walk. It had been a while since I was walking around with a hot girl on my arm. Too bad I had to give this one back, though! The wedding started and I found myself  staring at all in attendance, trying to catch small details. I noticed a really attractive blond on the far right with very light skin who started crying almost immediately (It also didn’t escape me that she was one of the girls catching whatever that thing is called that the single girls catch). I noticed some people with a face that pointed out that they were uncomfortable being at a wedding. Maybe they were angry singles, divorcees, widows, I don’t know. I confess I felt a bit of a tinge of jealousy/pain that I didn’t have a significant other to have shared that event with. I think the last time I felt it that bad was in that beautiful Yellowstone vacation. I briefly stood at someone else’s wedding thinking about how amazing a specific yet unworthy ex used to look particularly when dressed up until I managed to pull that thought out of me.

I ate the great dinner half distracted. I couldn’t shake the thought of having had a worthwhile person there to share it with and I was thrilled to be sitting next to the hot, yet far too young, bridesmaid. We spoke for a while and she seemed very sweet, but eventually left to dance with the other bridesmaids. I hit the bar a few times and walked outside where it was a little darker and quiet trying to reign my thoughts in. I did it often. I failed, but I tried. I decided it was time to leave and saw the guys having a blast. It was great to see them enjoying themselves. I started my walk towards the front and little by little said bye to the guys as I ran into them. Fortunately I ran into the hot bridesmaid on my way out. I said I was leaving and I gave her a hug and kiss good bye as I fought the urge to throw her over my shoulder and run away (I need to lose weight, but I think I hobble fairly quickly). She asked how come I was leaving and I said I was tired and it was a bit too loud for me. She asked if that was the real reason. I laughed and said it was. I don’t know what the hell kind of question that was, but I find myself wanting to be 30 or so.

Anyway, that was the excitement of my weekend. One of these days I’ll have a really normal one and I won’t have anything to write about. Nah. Then it would be someone else’s life. By the way, what’s the best online classifieds ad to post that I lost a bridesmaid? 😀

  1. Kalia says:

    Reading this as I’m told I’m a horrible friend for not reading your blog.
    Funny that I read this one because I, too, want to give back but don’t know how and have always been curious about big brother little nugget one. So expect a message on this subject as I want to know more.

Give me your damn input!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s