Tall Expectations and Short Comings

There were no butterflies in my stomach, I’m sure it was a large family of humming birds flapping around in there. Tonight was going to be the night legends are made from. I could feel it (and I don’t think it was the Mexican food I had for lunch.) Audrey agreed, as she clapped her cell phone shut. She had just finished telling her father that this was the night she was going to meet her husband. We took a deep breath and walked into the bar. Tonight was the monthly happy hour for The San Diego Tall Club, where the requirement is 5’ 10” for women and 6’ 2” for men. Ladies and gentlemen, lift that limbo bar and my standards just a little bit higher, because I am thirsting for a tall drink of water.
Imagine my shock when I walked in to find my stunning friend Liv (5’10 just made the cut,) sitting at a table in the corner with one tall man and one tall woman. That was it. Welcome to the San Diego Tall Club. AND the one tall man was already in a relationship with a woman who was not there because she fell short of the height requirement. Every time someone walked in the door, our necks craned hopping that a tall man would duck in the doorway. The girls and I surrendered to the fact that Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome was not there, filled up on garlic fries and vodka.
Audrey and I (feeling like we had hit rock bottom.) headed across the street to Rock Bottom Brewery. A few more drinks, and a lot more laughs later, Audrey spotted a few guys in the corner that caught her interest. I was more interested in my water glass than playing wing-woman for her. Neither man that she was talking to were my type, but how long could I stir my ice cubes and check what Ashton was twittering. Resigned to my fate, I head over to the bleached haired muscled man and his friend wearing white socks, when a table of three beautiful men stopped me with a few words. These gorgeous men hadn’t even been on my radar, they were so well dressed, and had been sitting alone together all evening that I thought they were gay. But with a few words, my radar was adjusted, they weren’t homosexual, they were British. And I took up a stool with these extremely stylish, witty, handsome, British football* coaches. We exchanged banter for the next hour and I found myself starting to fancy* the man across the table. Did I mention that none of these dashing, hilarious, extremely fit football coaches couldn’t have been over 24 years old? or over 5’ 4”? Now I know I had started the night with tall expectations, but tonight was proving how quickly I could be distracted. I was beginning to question my beliefs in dating karma. Here I had set out with such tall expectations and found my choice in men coming up a little short.
There you have it, the tall AND the short of my Friday night. Now don’t get me wrong just because he didn’t reach my height expectations, he did reach many of the expectations higher on my list. In fact, Brad if your reading this I had a fantastic time, and I think it would be mint* if you wanted to go grab a cheeky* pint* some time soon.

Translation Guide
football – soccer
fancy - to have a liking for someone or something I fancy him
mint - great condition
cheeky - flirty, saucy or sassy
pint - the standard U.K. measure of beer

Everything But the Kitchen Cinco

As thrill seekers these girls are always looking for the spicy side of life, and their mixed drinks are no exception. In Chapter 3, Papa Needs a New Pair of Shoes, you can read how much trouble these two find in the bottom of a tequila shot.
After that night, Frances vowed never to drink tequila again. As tequila distributors across Southern California shed a tear, Mark (Frances’ brother) came up with the perfect tequila cocktail to woo his sister back to the worm. (Mark says he made it strong and sweet like him, if there are any single ladies reading this.)

Right in time for Cinco de Mayo, this beverage includes cinco ingredients to keep it festive.

Everything but the Kitchen Cinco

3 count Tequila
2 count Southern Comfort,
a dash of Gran Mariner,
a dash of Grenadine,
fill with Pineapple Juice and Orange Juice

pour over ice and shake it like La Bamba and serve!

Check out their book at MissMatchBook.com

Frances Rostick, The 5' 11" beauty has a weakness for stilettos and peek-a-boo toes. She collects shoes like she collects dating stories, always looking for the right fit. But she can always make time for a well-mixed cocktail and a good-looking sombrero. She can be contacted at frances@missmatchbook.com

Audrey LaChance, Always looking for creative ways to meet men, Audrey recently flooded her new home, funny how the local plumber happened to be single. She is a constant thrill seeker; from dating to karaoke to learning to ride a bicycle. She loves everything Cinco de Mayo related. Viva la chip, cheese, and guacamole! She can be contacted at audrey@missmatchbook.com

Mark is the Manager at Chuy’s Mesquite Broiler in Valencia CA, and can often be found behind the bar mixing up drinks and chatting up the locals.

Literally Love Sick

My construction paper mailbox was filling up quickly with boxes of stale Sweethearts, and store bought super hero valentines. That morning my fingers were still covered in the dried Elmer’s glue from the homemade valentines that my mom and I finished at 11pm the night before. Each of my classmates had a beautifully crafted card, but the most elaborate, over doilyed, foil heart covered card was for Owen Chadsworth. I had secretly loved him since the day he walked into my life, September of that 4th grade year.
As the room filled with ripped envelopes, I kept one eye on Owen wanting to see his reaction when he opened mine. Spying on him wasn’t difficult as I was a giant among my classmates. I towered over Owen by a whole foot, true love has no height restrictions.
Suddenly, I was attacked! Jennifer, Whitney and a gaggle of other girls surrounded me squealing about my cardstock masterpieces. The whole class was talking about my valentines, and comparing the individual messages.
At that moment I felt Owen’s heated glance on me, and I didn’t know which end was going to explode. I ran to the bathroom without Ms. Bland’s permission. As I was sitting on the toilet and throwing up in the trashcan, I reviewed the cause of my love sickness. Red faced, Owen realized that his gushy secret admirer card happened to match the ones everybody else was holding from me.
Ms Bland was kind enough to explain to the class that I had probably eaten too many chocolates, not that my young heart had been shattered by cupid’s arrow.

V Day

Have you noticed that Valentine's Day and Venereal Disease share the same initials? Wow, VD two things I usually steer far, far away from.
But this year I feel differently, no, not an itchy, burning sensation in my panties, I am celebrating Valentine’s Day with an outsider’s appreciation. Probably like those of Jewish faith who celebrate Christmas, or maybe more like the blue-haired ladies that live in Palm Desert celebrate Arbor Day. I don’t have a boyfriend, the Jew’s don’t have Jesus, and the Retirees are in denial if they think a cactus is anything to celebrate.
Remember on Thursday, if you have a loved one to give them something extra special, and I am NOT referring to anything that requires you to go a free clinic. If you are currently single, shower the people around you with love… but use protection.

Feeling Souper!

I know a lot of things about a lot of stuff, but blogging is not one of them. So as I embark on this very new and popular arena, I asked my partner in crime if I could write about anything I wanted; because as you all know we are experts on dating…but there is more to life than just our dating adventures.

She of course replied with an emphatic yes! Hoping of course if she told me I could write about anything that I would write about something. (As the Queen of Procrastination, it’s easy for life to get in the way of my weekly blogging assignment.**)

Testing the waters, I dove further; Can I write about soup? Her response surprised me. “A very brilliant business man we recently met, Mark Victor Hansen, wrote hundreds of books about soup. I don’t see why not!” Holy cow, she’s brilliant!! We too can make millions, I’m going to write about soup, here goes nothing.

Everyday for lunch I have to make a decision about what to eat. Should I be a big spender and order Thai food from next door, indulge and get loaded nachos from the corner Mexican shop, or be smart and bring lunch from home? The last option proves to be a practice in preparation, and usually winds up as wasted food in the garbage, and me eating a slice of toast with cheese. Mmmm, that’s nutritious day after day.

That’s when I discovered the perfect food, granted it is not the perfect date food for obvious slurping and splashing reasons, but the perfect food for the hard working, single soul. There are so many options, no prep time, minimal cooking, very little clean up and these days it’s even portable. Things have been getting very serious, I’m now having soup for lunch and dinner. It’s great, I get the pleasure of variety coupled with the comfort of monotony. Huh, maybe this blog was about relationships after all.

Take my advice and have a souper day!

**Notice I said weekly assignment. What was the last post date? Oops!

The New Years Kiss…or Seven

As a single person on New Years Eve – positioning is key! Whoa now, don’t get ahead of yourselves, I’m talking about your positioning while still in the bar, restaurant or party of your choosing.

For the last two years my girls and I have taken a dunk in the man pool at San Diego’s finest dive bar, The Waterfront. We like to get a little over dressed and stroll in to steal the show and a few glances from the single men.

Upon arrival there are a few things we do to ensure that a good time is had by all. First, take a walk and make sure you cover all the ground in the bar/party so that everyman knows you have arrived, eye contact works! Second, look excited to be there and interesting to talk to, i.e. lead with your smile and be confident. Third, with your first (and only drink you’ll have to buy) in hand, position yourself near the front door. Eye candy in, eye candy out…right past your very glossy and kissable lips. Wearing something shiny usually sets the right bait; these fish find the sparkle irresistible.

At the stroke of midnight people are eager to hand out kisses and best wishes. If the men have to squeeze by you on the way out the door…you may become their main squeeze. However you may have to pucker up plenty before you plant your lips on the perfect kisser fish.

Oh, what I wouldn’t do in the name of research…

Up Front and Honest

Where is the line between being mysterious and putting all your cards on the table? I am not talking about the greet cards, I mean the baggage, the dirty laundry, the nitty gritty that might cause this potential husband to turn around and walk away.
Picture this...
Saturday Night I am out meeting new people, playing pool, listening to a great singer wail Pat Benatar... better than Pat Benatar.
And there he is just sitting there at the bar. Conveniently my friend knew his friend, it was almost too easy. Instantly John and I are conversing, but then within the span of 3 minutes he repeats the same thing twice. Yes, actually I already agreed with you, the singer is really great. By my quick calculations (and remember, I am not a math teacher.) if John was going to repeat this same phrase over and over again... this could prove to be a very long night. And then my salvation came STRAIGHT from John's hip, "Frances, Can I be up front and honest with you?" (Has anyone ever said no to that question?)
"Sure John, hit me with your best shot." I thought he would at least chuckle, but instead he let the canons fire...
" I came out of the Closet last night."
If Saturday night could have been wrapped up in a Hallmark greet card, it would defiantly be a musical one that plays “ Love is a Battlefield” when you open it.