So I started my new job this year in December, and by February I had a co-worker applying for the part of my Personal Fairy Godmother (PFG). I was hesitant since I didn’t know her very well, actually hardly at all, but I was too polite to refuse her blind date set up. Ok, so me being polite has nothing to do with it, I want to see if there’s a glass slipper my size….and what if this blind froggy turns out to be prince charming! I agreed to hear more.
My new PFG told me her blind froggy was Danish (I like accents), liked to travel (I love exotic jet setting), was in a band (well who doesn’t like music), worked in the insurance industry (SNOOZE -red flag #1), and lived in Pasadena (ummm…no comment). Overall, frog numero dos appeared to have potential. I inquired about his looks and my PFG said she was "working on it," but no photo was ever delivered (red flag #2). Even without the pic, the plan was set in motion; me and the Danish frog would meet for happy hour in long beach.
The day of the blind date my PFG spent the majority of the day pacing by my desk, giving me the thumbs up, and constantly telling me “you’re looking good Winter!” I begin to get that "oh sh*it what did I get myself into" feeling when my PFG casually mentioned that the Danish frog is a bit shy. “But don’t you worry your pretty little head,” said my PFG, "I know you’ll bring him out of his shell.” Insert red flag #3. I’m a pro at dealing with frogs and their slimy skin, but now I have to deal with shells? Nonetheless, I hardly ever pass up the opportunity to have happy hour...
I arrived first, not in a horse and carriage, but in my Honda civic…regardless the place was magical…well as magical as a bar can be…my confidence in the night bloomed, I thought to myself “If my PFG can pick out a bar as good as she can pick out a guy, then maybe this match will be a success!” I made friends with the bartender, a skill I recommend everyone practices and becomes an expert at, and ordered a glass of champagne.
I began to survey the bar and size up the crowd to see if the potential prince was already there. I spotted a cute, well groomed group of business men… the Danish frog wasn’t coming in a group, but I made a mental note for Bianca and I to come back in our business attire if this is a bust...I saw an older man sporting a pair of cargo pants and a navy blazer, I make a face and hoped it wasn’t him…. I scanned over toward the elevator and in walked my PFG and a man. C-R-A-P! With her was a tall, skinny, Danish, DREW CAREY. I’m talking short sleeve plaid shirt (red flag #4), khaki pants(red flag #5), black round glasses(red flag #6), flat top buzz cut (red flag #7), everything Drew minus 50 lbs. At this point I made a plea to God hoping at least the fabulous sense of humor was also intact. I decided ordering 2 glasses of champagne was now critical, and at the very least, would help make things interesting.
As we began to talk, the Danish frog was nice & polite, but I found out my PFG was a chronic embellisher. I should have saw signs earlier; I do live with Bianca after all. For example, his exotic travels = He travels for work, and mainly to places like Oklahoma and Ohio (no offense to our readers who live there). Additionally, the “Drew Carey” sense of humor is nowhere to be found. Instead, almost every conversation somehow turned back to the insurance industry. Sorry Danish froggy, but just because I work in the insurance industry doesn’t mean I enjoy talking about. In fact, Bianca and I usually lie when people ask us what we do. My standard response is that I’m a limo driver, and that Bianca has a successful career at Big Lots. Soooo much more fun to talk about designer limo hats and Bianca’s love of saying “clean-up on aisle 2” over the intercom, but I digress.
The Danish frog finally excused himself…. It didn’t take my PFG more than 2 seconds before she ran over to me and started rapid firing: "Do you like him? What do you think? I think you have a lot in common! It seems to be going well!" I hated to burst her bubble but I simply told her he totally wasn’t my type. She insisted he was just nervous…that’s a sweet excuse, but this frog was more flawed than that.
Once the blind froggy returned, he changed the topic to something all girls want to hear on their first date…his DIVORCE. Uh excuse me?!?!?! And the real kicker, it wasn’t even finalized….after that I mentally ended my date and made eyes at the bartender who quickly brought me a shot (see how important it is you make friends with these chaps.) Once there was a lull I excused myself and made my move for an escape, but my Danish frog insisted on walking me out (no- no- no- no- no- no, please don't, I cringed). As we get to the elevator I was hastily hitting the down button to escape as quickly as possible. He stated "we should do this again." I just smiled and said "it was nice meeting you." And it got even MORE awkward when he began to bow, yes bow, multiple times with his hands in prayer position. I’m pretty sure my face had WTF written all over it…the elevator opening was my saving grace. Who knew the Danish bowed? I certainly didn't.
So needless to say, I had to let my PFG go. The position is still open in case you’re wondering. Dating a few frogs hasn't hurt so far….just provided good writing material.
Brut or Spumante,
Bianca and Winter
