Online Dating: Take Two

You may remember that a few months ago I set out to find new female friends I could do things with. As I haven't been in the work force for almost six years (and do not belong to any political, religious, or parenting groups) I found myself extremely lonely and in need of a larger social structure.

Coming from a large family that lived in a small town most of my life, I've never had to deliberate set out to make friends - mine grew up with me. So as time went by and I moved from place to place the only friendships I maintained were those I made at my current place of work - which majorly sucked when I no longer had a place of employment.

I utilized craigslist personal listing to make new connections. There is actually a platonic section; though all the posts are not necessarily platonic.

The problem is that the majority of women looking for girl friends (in a non-sexual way) are in their twenties. And I don't want to hang out with someone who feels like one of my kids. The first two 40-something women I tried to hook up with ended up more talk than action and we never even met face-to-face.

My third attempt was Leticia. We've been meeting every Tuesday night for months. She's a stay-at-home mom that would rather be working, an engineer by trade. She writes short stories and has two children. We've graduated to having coffee in her house and I've met her family. I even get little girl hugs when they head to bed. We're both sort of cautious; but I see our relationship slowly evolving.

However, I still find myself without that one "social" friend. Someone that I can go play pool with, watch a movie, grab dinner out.

Out of boredom I checked craigslist again and was shocked to see a woman near my age (cause, is anyone really THAT old?) looking for someone to hang with. She works part-time and has a seventeen year old daughter. SCORE!

We're meeting for dinner tomorrow night. I'll let you know how it goes.

Oktoberbreast

Some of you may be aware that I've been working for an online costume shop the last few months. I find the job diverse in responsibilities and highly entertaining . . . . never more so, than today.

I was unpacking a new shipment of costumes when I stumbled across Mr. Oktoberbreast shown above. After verifying what we received, we go ahead and package each costume in a shipping bag with a custom label at the top telling what it is. If a costume has something that can be damaged easily during shipment, then we have to measure it for a box.

So I pull out the first Mr. Oktoberbreast - I can't stop saying that, and start laughing. The dress and wig are folded neatly in a bag like most of the costumes I've unpacked. The shocker is the 'breast' part of the costume. Maybe you'll understand better if I show you a different photo.



Right on top of my package are these huge, very hard, fake breasts that are a pretty realistic color. They also have huge nipple-colored nozzles from which beer flows. After I get over the shock, and amusement - wondering what kind of man would wear a costume like this, I realize the package might need to ship in a box.

I push down on the breasts and they are very hard. Worried about the spigots, I try to turn them. I bend them. I pull on them. This is about where my sick sense of humor strikes and I just break out in belly laughs.

My boss, who is a woman about four years younger than I am, asks what's up. So I wipe my eyes and hold up a costume so she can see the issue. I ask if she thinks I'll need a box.

"Are the breasts hard?"

When I catch my breath, I answer in the positive. Then lay the costume, boobs facing up, on a box so she can reach it. She walks over and grabs both boobs at the same time and squeezes them. Then she tries to turn the spigots. Bends them. Pulls on them. By this time, I'm laughing so hard the other workers are gathering around to see what is going on. Oddly, they found it pretty hilarious too.

"I don't know," my boss finally replied.
"You'll have to ask Ed."

Ed is her husband and the shipping guru. So I trek out of the building and into the warehouse carrying Mr. Oktoberbreast - but not touching him inappropriately. I ask Ed about the need for a box. He takes the costume and lays it on the table. Then he squeezes the boobs - both at the same time, and boy he has big hands. Then he tries to turn the spigots. Bends them. Pulls on them.

The outcome? I had to tape two layers of bubble wrap over each nipple of every Mr. Oktoberbreast costume. What can I say, at some point, every girl needs a little extra support.