Movie Night At The Museum, Smithsomian

I went on a date.

With yet another M. Yes, I know; if you can’t get over the first M, get underneath another M.

Or, at least accept a movie date with hot hunk, who has made not so veiled comments about making out at the movies. Which I’ve never done. A rated R, grown up movie. With popcorn. And hand holding. And maybe? Some breath-catching kissing. So at least, should he be horrendous, I can mark off making out at the movies the list of things to do before I die. Easy peasy. Hire sitter, have enough food in the house for the Ravenous Beast to eat, top off all prep with a pre-date cocktail, just to be loose, witty, and not attacked by giant condors floating around in tummy.

Since this is ME, we’re talking about, it went rather not at all like we’d thought, and rather more like my life usually is - a mess. First, I have the day from hell, discovering that yet again, my ex is a tool, and would be less expensive to me dead, than alive. The dog needs a trip to the vet for some Icky Tummy that I rather wrote off as worms; and is not…is STAPH. The Not Good Kind…well, not, I suppose, that there IS a good kind of staph, but I was not in the mood to shell out more for meds than I did on the shoes I’d planned to wear.

Add insult to injury: the sitter bails, and none of my girlfriends are around (they would have taken him in a heartbeat, as everyone - and I do mean everyone) has been on my case to actually date Mr. Tall, Handsome, and Wears Several Uniforms (coast gaurd and fire department: yummy) so I do the only thing I can do at this point: cancel. Which he refuses to take as an answer; how bad could my day have been? Did I mention the voice that melts ice caps from 30,000 miles away? Or how he’s taken to calling me Babe, just to undo me totally? His answer? We’ll just take my little guy, with us, and change our movie selection…what did I think of the new Night at the Museum flick? Would he like that? M says he was indeed, a history major in both college and as a masters (seriously?) so he’d love to see that too. Can they play in the arcade first? Eat popcorn and drink soda til they puke?

After I burst into unladylike tears (complete with sniffling and snorting, red rimmed eyes, and a rather ugly puffiness that no amount of ice could cure) I tell him I’m not sure that’s such a good idea…afterall, I am sporting hair that makes Medusa look well-groomed. Along with the aforementioned facial issues, and a gassy dog who took the leather off the doorjambs of the car on the way home from the vet.

Foxy hears the entire exchange, (the movie part at least) and leaps at the chance to go. He’ll be on his “bestest behavoirs”, he swears, and this time? he’ll share the popcorn. Honest mama.

Okay. Adult movie out, kid flick in.

There is something very touching about a man who without batting an eye invites a child he’s never known on a date with his mom.

Not sure where we’re going next; but I will say this - he can take us to the movies anytime.

He’s a fabulous kisser too, should anyone be wondering (yes, I know, everyone is wondering!!) - maybe next time, he’ll really sweep me off my feet….he’ll show up in uniform.