All of these trips are normal except Chicago (and adjacent cities).

Allow me to digress.

A few years back, in 2007 I believe, I met Matt through a networking group I am apart of. Actually, come to think of it, it was my very first networking event, ever.

Quick synopsis: he looks about 28 but is actually around 32 or 34 (I can’t remember); he graduated with a degree in engineering, has (short) wavy brown hair with a very slight reddish tint, stands about 5′ 10″ or so, and has brown eyes.

Sitting around a table at a dive hotel diner, we circled around with 1 minute intros. Next to me sat Matt. A decent looking guy with a fantastic, engaging personality, all followed by a surprisingly obnoxious and goofy laugh. We hit it off; we quickly absorbed ourselves in a conversation about the great outdoors—clearly not business related. After becoming quick friends we stayed in touch and collaborated on several projects. At the time he was doing web development (more complex stuff than I did). Right away I was attracted to him. Though he is not hot and a bit unkempt (doesn’t shave every day and wears t-shirts to business meetings), something about him intrigued me.

Come to find out he had a serious girlfriend, with whom he was living with, and therefore was completely unavailable. Regardless, I would joke with a mutual friend of ours how I should steal him away. My friend thought his girlfriend treated him poorly, was overbearing, and a total bitch! At the beginning of last summer his girlfriend decided to move to Europe for a few months. My friend and I had an even better running joke that I would swoop in and steal him while she was out gallivanting about. Haha. Quite humorous. During this time he and I had stopped working together but were still friends. One afternoon we grabbed a beer and happy hour. We chatted and I asked how his girlfriend was doing over in Europe. He mentioned that things were a little up in the air and she was talking about staying indefinitely. We continued talking and he noticed I had my cowboy boots on. It was a Tuesday night and I was headed up to McBabe’s for Two Step Tuesday. I invited him along. He agreed (surprisingly!) and we went dancing. He loved the scene, country music blaring, but could not dance to save his life (though with work, he could get decent). Not too long after he got his heart broken and the bitch dumped him. I think he went into crazy crisis mode because with in a week he moved to Chicago to pursue another business. He has since settled in and sounds like he is doing well.

I’ve stayed in contact with him, though only spoken once or twice since he moved. Out of the blue he messaged me via chat on Friday and we briefly caught up. We both had to go but he made sure he had my number correctly and said he’ll call to “catch up the old fashioned way”. He’s mentioned before but again mentioned that I should come visit Chicago. I have not decided if I am actually interested in him. I used to like him but really, it has been a long time since I’ve seen him. So, I don’t know.

However, I am actually thinking I just might do it. Tickets are only about $300 round trip (I would have to take care of other expenses and financial goals before then). I have not been to Chicago, or really anywhere in the mid-west. It is a bit crazy, especially because I would have to visit my blogging friends thereafter. Hmmm…September? October?

Plus, it’s been a LONG time since I’ve crushed on anyone. Not sure it’s a total crush, but I’ll take it. w00t.

Let me tell you, this was very interesting. I was extremely curious what it would be like to be amongst a Mormon family. Brother is no longer Mormon and is in some sort of searching place in life. But his family is still VERY much so. In some ways it was very familiar, they all went to church, came over and the craziness began. Just like my family. Lots of love, the smell of baked goods and juicy ham. They were friendly, welcoming and a little suspicious! Haha. He told me he would prep his family before I came so that they were clear that we were not dating. However, no matter how much you prep and squawk, family is family and siblings will always be pecking like hens, especially sisters of the only Brother. One of his sisters walked in, introduced herself, I shook hands, introduced myself and she asked, “So, you are … what … with Brother? Friends or … what?” I said assertively, “JUST friends. Just friends.” with a smile. She smiled and then said, “Oh okay, just friends. So is it getting serious?!” HAHA. I about lost it. I said, “NO no. Just friends. The 14 years difference, plus 2 kids and baggage are not really what I’m looking for.” She laughed and said, “Oh, okay so just platonic friends? This is Brother’s platonic friend.” Ha. It was great.

The day went on and we ate. Kids screaming and running everywhere—a welcomed chaos. I like being around kids and don’t mind the insanity at times. After dinner his dad sat down at the piano and started to play hymns. This was fun to listen to. I knew the songs he was playing and Brother’s sisters started to all join in, singing the harmonies, even Brother sang. It was really neat to see him with his family. I sang what I knew quietly while sitting on the couch next to one of his sisters. I was asked a couple times, once by his mom and again by this sister on the couch with me, if I was Mormon. His mom said that I carried myself in that way and his sister noticed that I knew the hymns. What is curious and funny about Mormons is that they believe they too are Christians. I am not to say ya or nay but certainly believe there is a distinction. I told them I am a Christian and that I grew up going to church, etc. So, at this moment, while sitting on the couch listening to the Von Trapp family sing, his dad started to play a family favorite. This tune, I was unfamiliar with. I don’t remember the lyrics, just the message … something to the extent of, “the woman should be in the kitchen cooking bread and then feed her husband breakfast in bed!” Haha. Brother and I talk regularly about religion and I told him, “I’m not saying those stigmas don’t exist in the Christian faith, I’ve just never heard them vocalized and harmonized!”

Walked around the whole place, into every room, takin’ it in. In one of the rooms there was a larger crowd and rock music being played. So I decided while I wait for the cover band to start up, I’ll grab a beer here and people watch. Waited at the bar for several minutes, apparently the bar tender was busy…Then a man with one leg came up on crutches. Not knowing how the night was going to start out, and having a strange feeling it was going to start out with him buying me a drink, I ignored him. Lucky for me, he didn’t seem to notice the “F OFF” sticker on my forehead and joked, “You know men seemed to get served faster around here!” Ha. Oh, great line. He got the bar tender to come over and I ordered. He paid. And when he saw the look on my face he said, “Hey relax, I’m with someone! A great woman in fact.” Nice.

After sitting in that room for a while, I walked back over to where the band was going to be. They had started. Sweet country music was filling my ears! Immediately after sitting down I see, on the dance floor, two girls (one quite butch), line dancing to “Friends in Low Places”. Not only is that not a line dancing song, they are not even close to keeping rhythm. This bar rules. Lezzies line dancing to a crap cover band in the meat market. Fantastic.

Stream of thought:

Now they’re playing johnny be good from back to the future and the lezzies are in full swing. I mean rippin it up. Holy crap.

HAHA. OMG. Now “I Don’t Even Know His Last Name” is playing. Little miss tramp with halter and nipples is doing the seated sex roll dance. You know what I mean. The would be slow-roll-booty dance but seated. Oh my. WTF.  Songs like that must really resonate with people like her. Make them feel better about their shit decisions in life. Oh that’s rich. Hands through her hair. Work it girl.

WOAH. CREEPER just walked in. Stop stairing at me. OMG. SICK. Full on eye contact for WAY too long. What do you think I am going to do? Jump your bones because you’re creepy and stairing? NO. So STOP.

Oh SHIT.  Why? Why did you just come up and talk to me? Hundred bucks I’m with the band? Oh. Great line. Now I want you. Gonna watch the dogs run tomorrow? Yes. Leave ME ALONE.

Aaaaaand scene.

Luckily I had a real conversation with the only dude wearing boots and a hat. HE was one of The Normals. College Professor. From LA. Knew how to two step. I saw him earlier dancing with the lezzies and asked, “So do you also dance with women who aren’t into other women?” He looked confused. Then burst out, “Oh, right…You think they’re together?!” HA. yes. yes I do. Especially since that one leads when they dance together.

For those of you unfamiliar with McBabe’s, please refer back to Mead, Dancing & Drinking to gain some background knowledge on the honkie-tonk wonder.

* The Normals
Pertaining to, or speaking of, all those working full-time, self or otherwise employed; individuals who know and understand social cues, graces and are genuinely interested in the well being of others; persons of intelligence and wit.

Mead *
You should already be familiar with this character.

The Stomper *
Extroverted thirty year old male with a giggly laugh and large goofy smile. Works as a corrections officer. He has decent rhythm but is somehow a millistep off; this makes for a very awesome awkwardness on the dance floor. Do not mistake this for clumsy. The Stomper is very coordinated. He just provides a little over embellishment when there is any stomp involved in the dances. He used to spill beers on the bar when he’d stomp on the dance floor.

Tall One
Tall and broad woman in her late twenties who is currently living off of unemployment yet continues to frequent the bars. To her credit, she is very friendly and does not drink. Unfortunately she her muse is gossip and the fabrication of drama.

Realtor *
Quiet, soft-spoken and seemingly reserved young woman in her mid twenties. Once you get to know her (or she has a sip of the devil’s punch), she’s a bit more spit-fire. This girl is sharp, bright and a little spunky. Very fun to be around.

Smiles
A very intelligent, successful forty five year old pot-bellied, Harley-riding male who happens to be an amazing dancer. He has a large grin and always smiles while dancing. I would consider him one of The Normals but he is a dirty old man who has a taste for women and lewd jokes.

Brother *
A divorced late thirty something ex-Mormon male with two kids who, up until a recent purchase of cowboy boots, wore pleated pants with dress shoes to the cowboy bar. He now dressed in blue jeans and his new boots. Despite the sound of the first sentance, he is quite normal. Nicest man you’ll ever meet. He is kind, easy to talk to, intelligent and very interesting.

Curls and Whiskey
With two (or three?) children at home, this single, mid thirties woman frequents the bar for escape. She starts with whiskey and then moves on to beer. Friendly at first but quite manipulative. She is friends with Tall One.

The Aggressor
A seemingly despirate, overly friendly school teacher who has a very large and obvious crush on Brother. Because Brother is so nice, The Aggressor takes his kindlness as attention and punces on it like a large cat in heat. Her name would be Couger if she went after younger prey.

One night was particularly memorable. We had had several drinks (prolly like 2 sheets to the wind) and we were sitting on this stage thing that is, but never gets used for, a pole dancing type jig. I remember scanning the room earlier that night and noticing a good looking cowboy (very similar looking to the picture to the right).  As we’re sitting on the stage he came up and starting talking to us. Nice guy. Asked me to dance several times and we were having a good time. In between dances the three of us girls were chatting with him and my friend asked his name. The music was loud and he was at LEAST 3 sheets in so when he spoke it sounded like he said, “MEAD”. We replied, “What?! Mead?” And he said, “No, Mead.” This continued for about five minutes until finally he said, “MY NAME IS PETER. PETE FOR SHORT. PETE! MY NAME IS PETE!” We all laughed. For the rest of the night, and for many months after we referred to him as Mead.

Anyway, back to the story: The evening was winding down and we were getting ready to leave. Mead decided, “I want to kiss one of you.” “Huh…did he just say that?” is what I thought. Indeed he did, as was confirmed when he leaned in quickly toward my friend to my left! She kicked back as fast as she could, almost laying flat on her back on the stage, yelling, “I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!” and then pointing at me, “SHE’S SINGLE!” Before I knew what was going on, I turned my head only to find his faced mashed against mine in the most awkward kiss of my life. My friends were on the ground, probably peeing their pants, laughing hysterically.

A few weeks later we returned to McBabes. Mead was there. After sometime of making eye contact and inquisitive, “do I know you?” across-the-room glances, he approached me, asking me to dance. We once again struck up conversation, only this time sober. I learned he just bought a horse, drove a truck, love the outdoors, etc. At the end of the night he asked for my number and if I wanted to go horse back riding sometime. In a moment of, I dunno…weakness? curiosity? I agreed.

We ended up going on several dates and though he was still good looking and a good kisser (minus the awk bar kiss), he was a very matter-of-fact talker and extremely boring.

Moral of the story: don’t let drunk boys kiss you at bars and then give them your number just because they drive a truck, own horses or look like Brad Paisley.