Produce Section Peepaw

Tender kittens--

Your faithful Sweet Tea has a bit of a spotty romantic past. Try as I might, I always seem to end up with Mr. Wrong.

You wouldn't think this would be the case. I mean--relatively speaking, of course--I'm smart, sweet, funny, an awesome cookie-baker, and totally humble about it all. Also, I earn a respectable living by moonlighting as a model. Here are some candid pics of me (sorry for not being too photogenic and having fat days):

(To my male bleadership: you're welcome.)

And, yes, the hinges on my revolving door stay hot. Did you even need to ask?

Sometimes, though, I'd really like to meet someone who gets me, you know?

Hey--wanna hear a story? Of someone who most assuredly did not get me?

So there I was. Like, five years ago. Blind date (eff you, match.com). Ol' boy was really nice, if a bit showy-offy and kind of pretentious. But really funny. And totally a gentleman (aka, he didn't hump my leg when he took me home). I had a really fun time and laughed like crazy.

The next day, I had lunch with a dear friend of mine. Told her all about it. The following words actually came out of my mouth: "It may have been my best first date ever."

Later that evening (the day after our first date), he called to say hi. Turned out, we were in the same neighborhood. He asked if I felt like meeting for dinner. Even though it was impromptu, it felt really sweet and casual and sincere, so I said yes.

I got to the restaurant and...where was the guy from last night? This guy was all over me. Holding my hand and licking my face and rubbing my arms all hot and heavy. Doing this creepy staring-into-my-eyes-three-inches-away thing. I was creeped out. People were staring. The waiter was uncomfortable.

The waiter, obviously OVER IT, asked if we wanted to order something. Can you believe that DICK TRIED TO ORDER FOR ME?!?! When the waiter asked me if that was what I preferred, I said I'd like to make a slight adjustment to my order. Dick said, "Whatever. Bring my future wife anything she wants." Second date, kids.

Shall I bore you with the details of the one-knee proposal or his declaration of love that followed as I practically ran away (no kidding, kittens), or will you trust me when I tell you that ol' boy did not, ahem, get me?

Not really sure where I'm going with all this, except to say that sometimes, when you see what you want, you just gotta grab a net and catch that beautiful butterfly! Also, I need an excuse to post these crazy-hot pics.

Check out this beautiful butterfly I spotted fluttering around the produce section at the Wegman's. Suit jacket. Beat-up t-shirt. Cargo shorts. BLACK TIGHTS. Brown suede shoes.

There are times when a free-with-contract phone simply fails to capture the presence, the magnificence, the sex-on-fire magnitude of a peepaw in the produce section who won't be bound by the sartorial confines of these repressive times we're living in.

Please accept my apologies for failing to get the elusive full-frontal, but this hot bitch was as fleeting as a unicorn.

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Hey, kittens--I'm taking a long weekend, so y'all be good and take it easy, and I'll see you back here on Monday for more jolly good fuckery good times.