If dating were a game, I would have to say its craps because I'm always coming up snack eyes.
Take love in general….lets say that "love" is a casino and we are all roped in by the lights, glitz and the pizzazz. The casino calls our names willing us and convincing the nether regions of our brains that we too can win if we're willing to gamble. So we concede and head inside with deep pockets and high hopes wishing for the best, praying for jackpot!
We enter the playing field looking at all our options and our eyes bulge at the infinite possibilities - the slot machines, the roulette table, poker, black jack and craps. We gush with anticipation, our palms get sweaty, we have a twinge of nervousness, but we're here so we suck it up because its go hard or go home. There is a reason we have stepped into the war zone of love, we're in it to win it. We continue our stroll around the area getting an idea of what we want and how we'll approach it, since you always need a game plan otherwise it will be over before you know it.
We split up and some of us head straight for the slots plopping down in one spot. Rookie mistake. See, the players on each wheel contained within that slot machine symbolize the same players in your life, it's a matter of coming up with the right combination that will heed any results. Most relationships are like the slots and its not a place I prefer to be. They are the never ending cycle of obtuse mundaneess that comes with a stale relationship. There isn't anything exciting about it, the players never change and it takes too many tries to get it right and hit pay dirt. We see the same people in our lives circle about us in different combinations and until that little bell goes DING DING DING CHA CHING – its not worth it. It's the more relaxed approach to dating I guess. Unfortunately too many of us get stuck on the slots because it is the most comfortable. Only a few of us are lucky enough to find the right arrangement thus leaving us to settle for lesser amounts of riches and hop off eventually for another machine. Too boring with little results.
An upgrade to the vicious rotation of the slots would be the roulette table. Ahhhhhh we think the roulette table is more fun and an easy game to play. We approach it thinking that all we have to do is spin the wheel, place the bet and if we win, we're happy. However, this too is another relationship falsehood. Roulette represents those who are already in a relationship whether long term dating, engagement or marriage. The partnership is controlled by numbers. Ever notice when you are in a relationship on any level, dates of events just seem to go round and round, every weekend is another something or other to attend – parties, birthdays, confirmations, weddings, dinner's with family – it doesn't matter what the ball lands on, the ball still has to get back on that wheel for the next number to be called. However, roulette does give us more betting/variety options, thus many keep coming back to it.
I categorize Black Jack, Poker and Texas hold 'em in the same bundle because they are card games with the dealer holding the cards, but the player making the bets. See as women we tend to lay our cards out on the table, providing the playing field and arena for a prospering relationship. We say, this is what we have, now lets see what you do with it. Unfortunately the guy displays a poker face, doesn't allow anyone to know what he's holding and will only bet on a sure thing. This is not to say that the roles aren't reversed, but the dealer will keep spitting out cards as long as they are wanted or required, but when all bets are final, it's a hold of the breath, a rub of the lucky rabbits foot and one man who is always left standing. These are usually the fastest relationships because one or the other is never satisfied.
But its craps that I'm most fascinated with and the spark to which I write this post. I see the craps table as the aggressive dating game. It's the pool to which all the active singles are drawn. It's the fad of dating, the online match site, the bars and the clubs, its the speed dating and the blind dates – all the things we try when we are actively searching for love….or sex. You keep rolling the dice over and over again, everyone is excited because everyone has something to lose or gain, and you keep rolling that dice until you win REAL big, or time runs out and its craps. Depending on how much you bet, or the rush of the game, depends on how long you stay at this table, but unfortunately, it's a tiring fast pace game that most get spent on quickly. It takes a certain type of persona to keep up this pace. I know this for fact as I too have tried the craze but I'm not much of a gambler – shit I lose $20 and I'm screaming poverty.
The casino of love is something we inevitably will visit, but the games we play will decide the outcome and how lucky (in love) we will be. It is a gamble, a gamble that we will not be fortunate in the riches that may be obtained, the goal to which we strive may never be acquired. We gamble by placing ourselves out there, money is our feelings and we spend them willingly hoping we make a profit in return. Logic and game plans are always a plus, but luck isn't systematic, it strikes when it pleases.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Saying I am a free spirit is probably an understatement – saying that I am the most fun, might be more on target. For those who read this site and have had the pleasure of knowing me in person and had the privilege of raising a glass or five over some good stories and loud music can attest to the fact - you'll never have a bad time in my presence….its something I can pride myself upon. Everybody has their "thing" – me? I'm go with the flow, up for anything and never in a bad mood.
Stop laughing its true.
There are times though when even me, Meredith, the Best from East, the Wild Crazy Beast, must sit one out…..and it is due to one event in particular that I must now bow out for a smidgen of time and begin to retire because I bring a new meaning to the words Boston Massacre.
A brief foreground to this momentous occasion is that Jannette, Francesca, Marianna and myself headed up to Boston for the weekend. Why? ….more like - Why not? Friday we get there about 9:30 a.m. and hit the ground running doing the site seeing thing when I remember my friend Matty Slo happens to be from Boston and sure enough – he's there and ready to party. VERY LONG STORY SHORT – we meet up with him and some friends and the fun begins…..three bars, about a hundred Sam Adams and countless shots later, I'm not remembering much and standing upright is becoming burdensome…..
[Side note: for those who have partied with me, I can hold my own, I have never ever been "that girl" but this was past my breaking point fo sho and besides, there is a first for everything…..]
We leave the bar and bid farewell to the lovely male liquor providers. Noticing that Francesca, Jannette and Marianna are boarding a bus, I join them on what I think is our ride home. Nope - not happening - the visions of sugar plums dancing in my head were not to be mine just yet. Instead we have embarked on a Party Bus that will be giving us our own private tour of Boston. What you need to know, and what I didn't know at the time was:
(a) my friends knew the people running the tour
(b) it wasn't a real tour, these guys just took the bus for after hours fun (one is a manager of the company)
(c) the bus driver, was not a real bus driver
Off we go, putt-putting about town, music blaring, disco ball spinning, strobe lights glaring, beers are being passed around like herpes on a whore. I'm in the front of the bus with the bus driver perched upon a speaker/console – its all good – I'm friggin Captain Carl man!!!! I got this on lock as co-pilot. Using a friend's phone, peering out of only one eye……you know…..for better focus, I begin texting other friends what a great time we're having when suddenly the bus stops….but it stops HARD and then there goes Mer…..bumbling down the stairs like a Ragity Anne Doll.
Like a true champ I get back up, I've bumped my head and I have a small cut under my eye, but again, its all good because I'm alive, not hurting bad and we're having a good time. I'm not a kill a joy….oh no, I'm the maker of joy, the Kris Kringle if you will of good times, a silly little cut is not stopping me nor will I allow it to hinder the happiness of my friends. HELL TO THE NO…..stopping now would be blasphemous.
Back in my co-pilot's seat (no I didn't learn), we move onward and the bus begins to slow down and pull over on a bridge/highway allowing us all to pile out and look at the beautiful Boston skyline. All is well and we're happy, however, due to the fact that I have fallen once and I'm injured, it has become my duty to brainstorm like a drunken champ because it has occurred to me, after about a good 45 minutes, that I don't seem to know these people who we're with.
Bonnie Braniac over here decides to start using the phone again texting my good friends Anthony and Gerard – one gets a picture of my eye, the other, the license plate of the vehicle we were in. Uh yeh…..come on….give a drunk girl a break, I thought I was doing some CSI bullshit. In return I got frantic replies of "OMG Mer where are you? What is going on? Are you ok?" To which I tried to alleviate concerns but I highly doubt that was accomplished as I had the attention span of gnat at that point, but I digress…… After I climbed back over the guard rail and enjoy the scenery with everyone else, we decide to load ourselves back on the bus and head out.
Guard rail???? Highway???? WTF????
Again Coked-up Carl is at the helm lunging the bus forward with the tenacity of a Nascar driver barreling through the streets of Boston clearly on a mission, when all of a sudden, the bus jerks even harder than earlier while rounding a corner…..this time a few more people fall down on each other piling up like a short stack of pancakes, but when they get back up…..Mer is back down the stairs again. This time though, I just laid there taking a mental inventory of what condition I was in before I moved. I knew right away, I had chipped a tooth and I had bitten my lip so hard I was swallowing copious amounts of blood.
Hands reach out to grab me, but bad ass that I am, I put up my hand in the STOP formation, wave everyone off, get back up and well I don't remember quite much else because I think the brain swelling began at that point…however I do believe I finally cried. Everyone was a little shook up and it was at last, time to go home. I do remember disembarking the bus and turning to the guys and uttering to them, "I'm not paying for this ride and neither are any of my friends for that fact." I think Marianna wrapped her arm around me and ushered me back in the hotel…..I think.
The next day the girls wake up to find they are sharing a room with Rocky Balboa, hey I call it like I see it and I got a little messed up the night before. Of course in my twisted world, I found most of the stories funny because we start re-telling the events of the evening before and it continues to get worse:
Me: "I hope none of you paid for that ride last night. I told them I wasn't paying."
Jannette: "Mer, we knew those guys."
Me: "We did? When did we meet them? I don't remember meeting them."
Francesca: "You were off somewhere, it was in the last bar."
Me: "Oh man, that rips it."
Marianna: "If we ever hear that term again……Mer you were yelling YOU RIP IT to everyone in the last bar."
Me: "I was??? When was I doing that?"
Francesca: "Just after we ordered the food."
Me: "There was FOOD!?!? When was there FOOD?"
Posted by Meredith at 10:18 AM