The Misadventures of Norma-Jeane: An Introduction

Hello!

My best friend is up my ass right now about writing a book about the shit that happens to me because “Only this would happen to YOU” is her response to every story I tell her. My sister was kind enough to think up a name.

This is partially true. I am subjected to many weird and uncomfortable situations that only happen to those unlucky few because we are big freaking magnets that say, “LOOK HERE! Perfect person to ruin their day!”  I do have to say that it does take a special person to be confronted with such situations and be able to laugh it off. Also… Alcohol helps. Just kidding. But really.

I was opposed to writing a book because really? Who wants to read this? So I settled on a blog to fade on the abyss of the internet, hoping someday someone stumbles upon it to say, “Damn, that bitch cray.” Here are some ground rules for this blog…

1) I must write honestly. It’s hard not to write in our own favor, but I need to give you a 360 view. It’s only fair and that’s how it’ll remain relatable.

2) Some names of people and places will and can be changed to protect the innocent.

3) While I’ll write honestly, I’ll write from the heart. This is pretty intimate, reader. Be prepared for me to start leaving a tooth brush at your place and then want to meet your parents.

Also… Alcohol helps. Just kidding. But really.

I’ll depart this intro with this shining example of how my dating life is the best (aka the sad) material to write about.

My sister, Leslie, and I frequent a bar close to us. We’ll call this bar Cheers* since it has a very Cheers-esque vibe. The bartenders are friendly and the patrons are regulars that are also friendly albeit a stone cold pack of weirdos. I had taken a hiatus from drinking for a while (like two whole months – I know. Impressive, right?) and had missed out on some of the ongoings at Cheers.

Leslie met this guy from Dubai there one weekend. She told me about him in passing, saying he was in the Air Force and a nice guy. We recently got new vape pens (yes, we’re one of those people) and she had shown Air Force Dude* the pen. He was like soooo amazed at this portable hookah pen. Please hold your jokes.

I ended up breaking my hiatus and went the following weekend after a relatively tough week at work. AFD was there and we invited him to our corner of the bar. This guy is super muscular. Like too muscular, ya know? He had gorgeous, brown eyes though with long lashes. However… There was one part of his face that you couldn’t look past… His nose. His nose was so big, it reminded me of Nigel from The Wild Thornberries. It was distracting, but he was nice. After a few shots turned into lots of shots, the details get a little fuzzy, but I remember the conversation being pretty indepth for a bar conversation. I remember Leslie getting up to go to the bathroom and with beer googles in full force, AFD and I got a little cozy and before you know it…. We’re sucking face and he kept hitting me with his nose. It was… Not very attractive. But, hey, yolo right?

Making out is as far as we got and we all left shortly after. A few weeks later we visit back and he’s there AGAIN. At this point, I’m embarrassed because everybody at the bar witnessed me make out with this guy a couple weeks ago and it wasn’t the first time I had made out with a random (that is a whole other story). I kept it light and polite and then he asked me if I wanted to go smoke hookah with him. At first I said no and then he tells me that it’s his last week in town before going back to Dubai. We ended up going and on the way there, he tells me he has a fiancee who moved to Dubai for him. I should have been pissed, right? But I vaguely remembered something about a girlfriend being mentioned a few weeks prior, but he had said it wasn’t working out (because we all haven’t heard that one before). I say that it’s okay, we can be friends because I wasn’t interested in pursuing it further that night and he was driving. If anything, I can always knee him and call my sister.

We get to this hookah bar and I’m immediately on edge. First off, the bar is open until 4am and you can bring your own beer. These places are sketch and usually places where someone gets stabbed. He’s pretty friendly with the workers there and speaks Farsi to everyone. I’m just there looking at the ground because I don’t know where to look. These men gesture towards me and talk OBVIOUSLY about me in their language. Then he plops himself right next to me and puts his hand in my hair, stroking my face and then tells me, “I like women like you. My fiancee is not like you.” Whoa. I’ve heard this before. I ask what does he mean to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’d say, “A smart woman!” Or, I don’t know, “A nice person.” But no. He said, “Like you! A woman to grab.” Reader, this is a guy’s way to tell you that you’re not his normal type because you’re packing junk in the trunk and a little more weight in your midsection. He thinks that it’s flattery, but helloooo, it makes you immediately self-conscious.

I pull away and he grabs my head to pull my closer. I dodge his attempt and say I have a headache. Which I did. But it pisses me off that I used one of those tactics instead of just saying what I meant demanding him to take me home. I consider myself a strong female with a good head on her shoulders, but at that particular moment, I never felt more like an outsider. I remind him he has a fiancee and I’m not in the business of being a homewrecker. He slumped back in the chair and says he doesn’t know why he’s with her and this will be his second marriage. Como? Second marriage? From the puzzled look on my face, he devulged more…. “You Americans find this disgusting…but my first wife was my first cousin.”

Reader, at this moment, I got an instant flashback to Mean Girls, “You know… You have your cousins and then first cousins.” Then… I laughed.

But he wasn’t kiddingI Apparently it’s an honor in Dubai to be able to take your cousin’s hand in marriage.  According to JustLanded.com, “Traditionally, the ideal marriage was tribal, related families encouraging their offspring to marry cousins or other relatives in order to increase and strengthen the tribe, or occasionally to marry into another tribe in order to heal rifts between families. Another reason for such marriages was that families knew the background of the partner.” (Hell yes, I googled that shit later – western culture is FASCINATED by things we find taboo…)

He said he divorced her because he never loved her and now his mom won’t forgive him. Then the first thing I say, being as ever so sensitive as I am, is, “But… Doesn’t that cause birth defects?”

As soon as I said, I felt like a major asshole. I just couldn’t stop it. It was pure word vomit. He shrugged, “Sometimes.” After a while, I asked him to take me home. We get to my hood rich apartments and I take off my seatbelt. Home training kicks in and I say, “Thanks so much for taking me out. I hope you have a safe trip back to Dubai.” aka “Have a nice life.” I go to get out of the car and AFD locks the doors and I couldn’t figure out how to open his space car door. He then reaches over me and pulls the lever to lay my seat back and climbs his big ass over me. I tell him to stop and he says no. I bring my knee up to his groin and lock eyes with him. “Stop.” He sighs and climbs back off. He unlocks the door and I jump out without so much as a glance back. The next morning, I wake up to a voicemail from him just saying that he wants to own me and he wishes he could’ve taken me.

So, let’s recap – made out with dude, dude ends up having fiancee, dude also married his cousin previously, dude tells me I’m not his usual type but when in Rome…, dude tries to plow me, and then after all that, references me as an object to own.

forever awkward,
nj