Adventures in Arm Candyland

KB here with a re-cap of my weekend in Vegas. Let me warn you right now - there is about to be some brutal honesty up in here. For those of you who are sensitive Suzies, you may want to close this page asap.

It was an impromptu trip. A very well established, successful ($$$), doctor asked me a week and a half ago if I could "roll to Vegas" the following weekend. It took me about 3 seconds to reply, "I have to find a dog walker, but hell yeah!" I didn't ask why or how or what for. I already knew the answers. You see, said friend is sweet on KB and although we've only kicked it on a few occasions to conversate about sports & whatnot over cocktails, it's obvious he is a big "fan" of mine (his words). I am a fan of his too. He's a very nice (at least to me), accomplished, generous, and respectful man, that can appreciate an independent woman who likes to laugh and have fun.

But I am 1000% not attracted to him and have never indicated I had the slightest romantic interest in him. In addition to the double chin, old guy hair cut, mustache, neck rolls, and a haunting layer of gray ash on his face and knuckles (perhaps from the Iceland volcano?), he also has possibly the most bland, boring, uninteresting personality I have ever encountered. And I've chatted with some snoozerific folks before.

So when I signed up for the trip I knew what I was getting myself into. I was arm candy. Plain and simple. He wanted to brag to his colleagues of his PYT companion for the weekend and impress his friends. I haven't been able to volunteer at the soup kitchen for a while because I've been out of town so I figured this would count as a charitable endeavor for the month of April.

Long story longer, I had a fantastic weekend! Flew non-stop after work Friday and back to the east coast Sunday evening. The weekend started with drinks and more drinks with, oh let's call him Mr. Snooze, his co-worker, and my BFF of all BFFs! My oldest and dearest friend from childhood has lived in Las Vegas since we were 13. I hadn't seen her in years and she is the BEST! It was so great to see her and be in her presence. My heart was so very happy to be around someone that I genuinely consider my sister.

But back to the tragic side of the tale. I ordered up shots and shots as the night went on and we danced around the rooftop bar amongst your typical tragically lame Las Vegas crowd of club goers. The place had the undeniable stench of vomit and desperation. An aroma all too common in bars and clubs in Vegas and Hollywood. Anywho, I drank enough so I wouldn't have to tackle any awkwardness when we would return to our suite at the hotel. I "passed out" on the couch and told Mr. Snooze to leave me there as I felt sick. In reality, I was definitely tipsy but not passing out drunk, and I wasn't sick at all. But I know if he tried to sleep next to me in the huge king size bed I would definitely become sick and throw up all over his ash covered body.

The next morning he left early to attend a business meeting and I sprung up like a jack rabbit as soon as the room door slammed shut. I high-tailed it to the drug store to get sunscreen, magazines, and some water, and off I went to the pool. I had a BALL! Not only am I two to three shades bronzer, I was chatting it up with the best folks ever. I was solo so I became best friends with all of my pool neighbors. The first couple I met was in their 50s and from Canada. I fell in love with them and asked if I could come visit. Throughout the day I chatted in betwixt monster size frozen margaritas. I finished my 2nd Chelsea Handler book, and enjoyed viewing the plentiful hot bodies that were fooling around at the pool. Man, if Mr. Snooze weren't footing the bill for the weekend I would have slored it up. Don't judge me! Okay go ahead and judge. Those boys were hot. There must be some hot guys-with six pack abs listserve that tells them all to visit Vegas every weekend. Yum to the yummers.

Mr. Snooze finally joins me after I had been out sunning for oh 5 hours, in his old guy shorts and button down short sleeved shirt. We chatted for a bit, which is hard because he has nothing interesting to say. Ever. Finally my BFF comes to meet us and we start gabbing non-stop. Now don't get me wrong - my bestie and I always included Mr. Snooze in conversations. We're not rude. But it was on him to actually contribute to the convo. Which he seldom did. Things finally got interesting when J, my BFF, asked him if he had any kids. I was shocked when he said yes! Not only because he never mentioned it, but also because I found it astonishing that someone let him mount them and conceive a child. Before I get nauseous, let's move on.

He explained that his child is 7 years old, lives with the mom, and he was never married. Something on his face looked like he was ashamed. I have a feeling it was because having a child out of wedlock made him a statistic. His entire steeze that he desperately tries to maintain is that he's a rich, successful, black professional with swagger and has the right to be picky, arrogant, and look down on others who are not as successful. And I'm sure he had a feeling that I would not be too pleased that he had a kid. I have to say, it is my policy not to date men with kids. But this guy could have zero kids or 100. I'd never want to do anything even remotely romantic or intimate with him. So it really didn't matter that he had a kid. What do I care?

Anywho, this new development pretty much opened up pandora's box in terms of my status as arm candy and his contstant, nagging inquiries regarding my level of interest. Here are a few high(low)lights of his line of questioning and comments throughout the weekend:

"So I've lost 15 lbs since I met you back in January, I want to lose 15 more. Then maybe you'll be into me."

(KB response: I lowered my head, half smiled, and ferociously sipped from my margarita.)

"Does my having a child bother you?"

(KB response: "Not at all. I do have a policy of usually not dating men with kids, but we're not dating so it really is not any of my business. Were you ever going to tell me though?")

"Well you'd never be around him so I wasn't planning on telling you, no."

(KB response: "um, okay.")

As soon as I told him I wasn't trying to date anyone right now, he changed his story up and began to say that he wasn't looking to get married, but he just wanted to "hang out" and get to know me and fly me out to wherever he is to do so.

KB response: "To be honest, I'm really still in the phase of dating bad boys that are jerks, because they're disposable, and you are definitely not disposable." (Good shit right?! I gotta write that one down to use in future "It's not you, it's me" explanations when rejecting an advance.)

"I was talking to my partner and told him how beautiful you are but that you'd likely be more into our friend who plays in the NFL, you know with huge muscles and stuff. I bet I'm not the usual type of guy you like."

KB response: "Well, you know, I've dated athletes, models before, and personality counts too." (Then I lowered my head and ferociously sipped my margarita. Or was it a cosmo? Whatever).

"My best friend and I realize that we probably think we are more attractive than we actually are."

KB response: I lowered my head, half smiled, and ferociously sipped from my Diva cocktail (ingredients: fresh strawberry, peach vodka, and club soda).

"It's hard for me to date because usually after about two months the woman will ask me for money, to pay her bills. I know with you, not only are you beautiful, but you're smart, funny, and independent."

KB response: They ask you for money because why else would they be with you? I bet they are all mildly to somewhat attractive? Aim lower fella and maybe someone will stick around because they actually find your old man steeze appealing.

(Okay, the real KB response was: I lowered my head, half smiled, and sipped from said Diva cocktail.)

AND HERE IS THE KICKER!!! (You may want to sit down for this)

Saturday evening around midnight, after I pleaded with Mr. Snooze to let me go to bed and not stop at yet another bar (I don't know if he really just wanted to be out or was trying to get me tipsy enough to try something), I put on my huge over sized law school t-shirt and yoga pants and slipped into bed on the furthest side away from him. I literally was in side plank pose position, taking up no more than 4 inches wide of the bed. He was approximately 5 feet away from me, which was too close for comfort.

So as I pretended to read my book intently (I had finished it already at the pool) I was genuinely getting very sleepy (Did I mention I popped a sleeping pill at a bar earlier?) and couldn't wait to fall asleep and dream of anything without awkwardness or ashy skin. Mr. Snooze said good night and I turned my head to say the same when I saw a sight so horrid I will pay thousands of dollars to a hypnotist or brain surgeon to remove the image from my memory.

He was topless.

You guys, picture Steve Harvey, Bill Cosby, Al Roker, and shit, I don't know, any other older semi-fat cornball guy. Without a shirt.

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!

I really was preparing myself to vomit right there on the bed.

I quickly turned my head back to my book and said a prayer to the Lord to send me a diversion. Let him have indigestion, let there be an alien invasion, a fire alarm, an earth quake. Anything that would make him put a shirt on.

And then he said it.

"I know this is a platonic friend weekend, but could I get a kiss?"

At this point I did in fact throw up a little in my mouth. And prayed for death.

After the longest 5 second pause in history I said, "Um...I'm cool...I don't kiss friends, I find it to be very intimate and I am just not comfortable doing that. I'm exhausted. Good night!"

I turned my head, closed the book, and miraculously fell quickly asleep. Popping that pill was the best move ever. I'm seriously considering naming my next dog or first born child Ambien.

I slept for a solid 8 hours and was awoken by Mr. Snooze, who had gotten up earlier, got coffee and was putting mine next to me on my nightstand, with a variety of sugar substitutes and creamers for my choosing. It was a very nice gesture and I decided to forgive him for putting me in the most awkward position ever the previous night and subjecting me to the bone-chilling sight of his bare torso.

So it's Sunday and you know what that means for KB. Brunch! The hotel had a fabulous one and after we put our bags in the lobby and checked out, off we went. Unlimited champagne would surely have me tipsy enough all day in order to survive the last leg of the trip. Off we go to brunch, where my Bestie is waiting for me! Of course she was going to come with. Duh! I paid for brunch for all of us since I felt a bit bad for inviting my bff to just about every single outing that weekend. I wish I could have asked her to stay in the hotel with us, saving me from all of the awkward and vomit inducing interactions with Snooze. And ps: Mr. Snooze benefited from her company too - at just about any place we were at, the wait staff and passers by commented on how lucky he was to be in the company of two such beautiful young ladies which made him light up with a huge grin. So there.

Anywho, being the bestie of all besties, we leave Mr. Snooze alone to pile up his plate with gross seafood and other old man type food, and go to her car parked on the rooftop parking lot and hang with Bob. Yes!!! Possibly the best time of my life. I begin to describe to her the awful details of the previous night but it was just too much. She was choking on her tears and laughter when I tried to describe his bloated stomach and gross old guy curly chest hair with gray hairs making cameos here and there.

We somehow make it back to brunch in a reasonable amount of time and control our giggles and try not to be obvious that we had been speaking of Mr. Snooze. We got our grub on and sipped champagne, and I began to feel better about speaking ill of Snooze. Bob helped me realize that I shouldn't feel that guilty about it. Because even if he was actually attractive to me in the slightest way, I don't find his personality appeasing at all. My bestie remarked earlier that she thought he was funny, but then realized he hadn't said one humorous thing all weekend. I was the one with the hilarious seinfeld-esque observations and insane descriptions of extremely awkward moments and situations. He would just chuckle and make lame follow up comments.

He also exhibited many extremely annoying habits like constantly being on his cell phone as if he was that important and popular (I kept waiting for the blue tooth to come out that would seal the cornball deal), and making references to his wealthy lifestyle - including his four houses, two BMWs and a louis vuitton man bag. Gross to the yuck. Even a classically hot guy loses mad points if he exhibits such nauseating behavior. And he kept making excuses for going to never heard of, lower tiered schools for college and med school. Again, none of this mattered to me. He could have graduated at the top of his class from Jesus H. Christ School of Medicine and be an Oxford Scholar with a genius grant. It wouldn't change my feelings toward him.

So after my bestie dropped us off at the airport, we of course waited for our boarding time at an airport bar where I continued to drink margaritas and prayed that the plane was full so we wouldn't be in a row by ourselves. The Lord heard my prayer and miraculously Mr. Snooze had a penchant for aisle seats and I always have to sit by the window so he was totally cool with sitting apart. And a semi-cutie sat in betwixt us! Although anyone with a BMI under 35 and under 40 years of age was semi-cute at that point. But I digress.

I finished my second book and was able to part ways as soon as we got off the plane since he checked a bag (LV of course, yuck) and I desperately needed to rush home to walk my dog who hadn't been out since the dog walker came earlier that morning.

I damn near ran to my car, sped home, and gave my dog the longest embrace ever.

I am so happy to be back and more happy that I'll be hopping out of town again soon. This time with a bestie from law school for part of the trip, and then with my Kingston clan for a super fun reunion in Miami. No one over 40 allowed. Save for Jay-Z, Janet, J.Lo, and Mimi.

I have to say it was definitely a worthwhile trip, awkwardness and all. Despite my opposition to any and all romantic advances, Mr. Snooze appreciated my company and said he had the best time partying with me and my girl. Haha. I'm sure he was pissed how much time we were a threesome and not a twosome, but understood how much we missed each other and was seemingly okay with it. And besides, when we were alone it was such a task to conjure up any kind of delightful conversation. Snooze city. I only have so much material and was damn near out by Saturday night.

That concludes this adventure in Arm Candyland. It was worth the awkward situations, and now that my bestie and I already had our Vegas reunion, we are going to relocate her post-bachelorette party to LA over Memorial Day weekend! Yipee! We had planned on having it in Vegas but since the Arm Candy retreat covered that, off to LA we go, where we plan on reliving some of our favorite childhood activities. Lemonade Stand anyone? Actually that's a cute idea. Of course this time around said lemonade will be spiked with vodka. And we'll give discounts to all hotties.

I hope you enjoyed this here tale. I wish it was part fiction, but trust me, everything above really happened. For better or for worse.

Until the next time...

Smooches!

KB