A month or so ago, I initiated a "Sister-In-Laws in the City" night out. I know, cheesy title, but don't say that the theme isn't obvious. The plan included drinks/dinner and then (you saw this coming) a screening of SITC2. Of course, since I am cursed with the talent of always driving in the opposite direction from my desired destination, I arrived at the restaurant 10 minutes late. The place was packed with people, and as I waited in the reception area looking for Mark's sisters, a woman my age caught my eye.
The woman stood about my height, straight as a stovepipe, and had a short brunette cut like my own. The rest of her outfit seemed, honestly, a little boyish: utilitarian sandals, khacki shorts, a sleeveless button-up shirt, pouch style bag hanging by a strap that hung across her chest. Don't get me wrong, she was cute, albeit in an REI sort of way.
After smiling, she came over and I figured she wondered -- was I waiting in a line? could I give her directions to the bathroom? etc? Instead, once she reached me, she tentatively put her hand out toward my arm, paused, and then said with hopeful eyes..."...Sandy?"
<Crickets>
At first I just looked back, totally mystified and silent. Until I realized that I WAS BEING CRUISED FOR A LESBIAN BLIND DATE!!! Ummmmmm. Don't get me wrong, I felt flattered (and honestly, considering my dating misadventures, it's shocking that this scenerio didn't already happen x 10) but...escape route, anyone? Hello? Testing 1-2-3? Bueller?
Then I spotted my sister-in-laws, politely told the lez girl (I can use this phrase because, don'tcha know, I've watched The L Word) that I wasn't Sandy, and slipped back into hetersexual white noise.
After the fact, The Prof and I were having a cookout with two friends when the wifey reminded me about her alter ego, Kimmie. Basically, Kimmie is kind of a f*ck up, or is sometimes a little evil, or has a long and winding back story that continuously develops...she is both addictively entertaining yet unfailingly irritating.
Right then and there, I decided to embrace Sandy. You might see her around, Inter-net, so watch out. She's wicked impatient, likes to eat (only) Kraft Mac + Cheese made using the full sauce packet but only half the noodles, sometimes skips, drinks like an Irish sailor, once left the water faucet running for her cat and flooded the basement, and will throw an egg at your car if you cut her off in a rotary, you effing Massholians.
So, just to recap. I am not a lesbian, Sandy is bananas...and oh yeah, I'm growing out my hair!
(above, Sandy in an impromptu photo shoot after arriving home from her day job as an ocularist)
Well, Sandy with a "Y" is a little pissed...MARK!
Posted by: blogorelli | Tuesday, 27 July 2010 at 08:30 PM
Great story.
Did you get a glimpse of the "real" Sandy?
Are you now the subject of a "missed connection"?
Me: The woman who misses touching your arm
You: The 'Sandy' that should have been...
Posted by: P-Natty | Friday, 23 July 2010 at 12:03 PM
You know - living with both Christi and Sandi - it's tough sometimes to say that either one is REALLY bad. I mean - it's kind of like the best of both worlds.
Posted by: the Professor | Friday, 23 July 2010 at 08:34 AM
You got spammed, Sandy! "your blog is specific", what a compliment!
Anyhoo.
My friend Tracy could be a supermodel in hiding and she always has her hair supershort. She is also tall and has a sort of deeper voice but couldn't be more hetero. She got called "sir" when she was PREGNANT by a mailperson.
I guess short hair on the womens is only symbolic of lesbohemianism or cancer recovery.
Posted by: aclassicgirl | Thursday, 22 July 2010 at 08:10 AM