Wannabe Starlets

When you are dating a Hollywood director, being out in public with them is like attracting bees to honey. You can’t go anywhere without some little wannabe starlet wanting to be discovered.

We were at the Melrose Farmers Market, at a cute hipster coffee joint called Alfreds that has antlers on the A. Waiting on my vanilla cappuccino, with him in tow and his adorable poodle whom I adore….a handful of women keep doing sideways glances. They don’t care that he is double my age. They are probably wondering who I am and how do they get past me to him.

He seems to not notice, like it’s a typical weekend. I should be jealous because these women are gorgeous but I’m amused. I find it funny that they are tripping over themselves to catch his attention. As if the one glance over in their direction would catapult them to Academy Award stardom. Who knows, it could happen.

But he is the ultimate gentleman. Only focused on me.

I’m a lucky girl…

Rogue Rose

The Little Door

A few months go by and this elderly man keeps messaging me about coming out to West Hollywood. He is good-looking and seems like a complete gentleman. He is almost twice my age, but that doesn’t phase me. So I finally agree to meet.

He makes reservations at the most romantic restaurant in town called The Little Door. He is even better looking in person. Completely gracious and almost regal. We drive up in his brand new beautiful Jaguar and do valet. This restaurant is so pretty. You are under a tent of green trees, red tulle, fairy lights.

Dinner was amazing. The food was delectable. And the wine was the best I’ve ever consumed. Incredible.

During dinner, he tells me his life story and it’s worthy of a movie itself, plus a sequel. You see, this man is an award winning director. And then he starts to pitch me to go into show business. I decline graciously. I prefer to watch, rather than be watched. He offers to invite me out to the set of his new movie and I joke that I’ll bring cupcakes.

After dinner, we go to the valet station to retrieve the car and they pull up with the same color Honda Accord. He goes to get in the car when I inform him it’s the wrong one. I guess valet got confused.

We almost took off with someone else’s car.

Rogue Rose

Lackluster Love

Being a single mom today is not easy especially dating. Let me tell you, I am an attractive broad with a body somewhere between Kim Kardashian and Mama June before she dropped 34 dress sizes. A natural redhead and a classic Dita Von Teese look, I’m quite the catch.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the typical South Orange County twit that graces your televisions on some bogus housewife show. I’m a real, homegrown, barely educated, blow-job giving woman with tits for days. Natural tits.

And I’ve dated everyone. Well, maybe not your husband, but certainly your brother and possibly your father. And maybe your sister too.

You see, this isn’t exactly how I envisioned my life at forever 39. I was married with three kids. Good kids. Beautiful kids. Lousy husband. So-called lousy husband decided he wanted an online social life and joined twitter. He fell in love in 140 characters or less. To her, whom shall forever be nameless, but lovingly referred to as Mrs Fugly. Yes, I used the title Mrs. She was married too, with children no less. They now live a miserable life together and he complains about her children. Ha! Good riddance.

So here I am dating again and what a trip it is. From an award-winning director to a twenty-one year old who still has spots on his face. I’ve been there and done that. Well, maybe not “done” that. I’m not easy….okay, maybe a little bit. I like sex. There I said it. Sex. Its fun, especially when I’m on top. On top of the situation and on top of the man.

So to kick-start this blog, I’ll tell you one of my dating adventures. Stop me if you have heard this one: a woman walks into a restaurant, meets a handsome man with a good reputable standing career (which I will not state because I’m not one to air dirty laundry), who use to play college ball. Tall, broad shoulders, pouty lips to boot. Small talk is going well, flirty hair tousle and he is staring at my breasts because they are practically grazing the table and it begins.

him: “I have a certain lifestyle.”

me: “Oh…”

him: “Yes, so from now on you are going to call me Master and I’m going to call you Slave. Got that?”

me: “Yea, that’s cute. You serious?”

him: “Slave, I’m thirsty. Hand me my glass of water.”

me: “Your water is right in front of you.”

him: “You didn’t call me Master. You will be punished next time.”

me: “Okay, Master, your glass of water is in front of you. Since you invited me to dinner, you are paying for dinner. Waiter, check please. I’m out.”

 

Rogue Rose