For the past several months, I’ve experienced the highs and lows of Match.com. Stay tuned for future posts, Your Facebook Profile Says You’re Still Married and No, Thank You, I Would Not Like To See A YouTube Video of You Surgically Removing Your Toenails.
One might consider these experiences a sign. Take a little break, Jules, a little step back, they might suggest.
Ha!” I say. “Show me a REAL sign.”
Last night, I was getting ready for a third date with a delightful gentleman who discovered my blog before we ever met, so let me just again say he is especially delightful (and owes me a guest blog post).
He was picking me up for dinner, so I straightened up the house, got all dudded up, lit a few candles (to cover up any Eau De Dog-who-really-needs-a-trip-to-the-groomer) and anxiously awaited his arrival.
Ten minutes before he was due, I blew out the candles. One of them was the sort that has a tea light heating a scented wax cube.
It was resting atop a wall sconce. I lifted it down, let’s just say, a tad carelessly.
Suddenly, all the hot, melted wax sloshed out.
Onto my face.
Onto my white dress.
Onto my couch.
It was red.
Have you ever had any last-minute blunders while getting ready for a big night out? (Come on, I know for a fact one of you has had a run-in with a curling iron.)