Nice to be back! Last time I blogged for RJ, I wrote about my new gym and
all the sweaty, topless, hot men that frequented it. I still go to that gym,
and yes, the men are still smokin’ hot. I am one lucky girl.
On to today’s topic…Having recently come out of a five year relationship,
I found myself jumping back into the dating pool. Head first. I landed hard.
As in, ouch.
I write romantic suspense, usually with a law enforcement hero or heroine,
so imagine my delight when I got asked out by a cop. You have to understand.
I LOVE COPS. A good friend of mine is a detective and I’ve not only toured
the Police Department (there’s not much to see–Santa Fe is tiny), but also
taken a ride-along in a police car with a lady officer. If didn’t have a
toddler and the fact that going through the law enforcement academy takes
five months of residency on campus, I would probably join the police force
now that I’m a US citizen.
Anyway, you can guess my intense excitement when said cop, known from hereon as Tom (fake name, obviously) offered to teach me to shoot a gun. Bam. I fell. That’s when I hurt my noggin, because for some reason I believed he returned my fascination for him. This man is incredibly beautiful, let me tell you. It was as if one of my romantic heroes walked off the cover of HOLD ME, THRILL ME, ENTICE ME, and straight into my arms.
Remember Joan Wilder’s immediate attraction to Michael Douglas’ character in Romancing the Stone?
I believe I now need to have my head examined, because clearly “dating” in
the US is not the same as its Irish equivalent of “going out with someone”
and I’ve just made a total idiot of myself falling for Thomas. When he said
“dating” I thought he meant we had an understanding we would “date” on a
regular basis, as in, arrange a date and time to meet up for dinner, a
movie, etc with the expectation of temporary monogamy… And with both our schedules, believe me, that was going to be a challenge, but one I thought worth making.
Instead, I found myself waiting to hear about said date and time, to the
point where I was stood up three times.
Embarrassing. Humiliating. Sickening. I felt like I was sixteen again. I
mean, really? People still do that in the relationship arena? Puh-lease.
But just in case it’s me, and the term “dating” means something far more
casual than what I thought, can someone please explain it to me?
Tell you what, best answer gets a copy of ENTICE ME, the final novella in
the Caldwell Sisters trilogy.
Help me out ladies!
Oh, and by the way. The cop is history. I’m waiting for an FBI
agent/spy/reformed assassin to come my way…
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