Q and A Tuesday (Week 5)

It’s Q and A Tuesday so here are some answers to your questions!

Q: Who is Cowboy Casanova?

A: I am not telling.

Q: Who is Joe?

A: I am not telling.

Q: Did your parents read your blog after you warned them not to?

A: OF COURSE THEY DID!!!! In fact, not even 4 minutes after I post the first part of OG Bottle Rats: Part 1 I received a text from my mother that said “Who is Joe?” You guys… I wasn’t just magically born the nosiest person on the face of the earth. This was taught to me by my two nosy parents. It runs deep through my blood.

Q: How do you remember all of the details for your stories?

A: If you know me, you know that I have the absolute WORST memory on the face of the planet. Nights like the night I met Joe I actually do remember a lot of the details because the night was so crazy that I couldn’t help but remember. However, I did have a long chat with Barbie so that we could compare our stories and versions of the night. She filled in the missing pieces on all of the parts that I forgot over the years.

Q: What do you mean when you say “Love is easy. Relationships are not.” You’ve said it several times throughout your blog and I’m just looking for a clear explanation.

A: This is a really good question. I am going to try my best to give you a detailed, yet simple explanation of what I mean when I say that. I will start off by telling you a little bit about when Poodle and I first met…

It started a few days after I met Poodle at a blackjack table when I accidentally took his seat while he was in the restroom. He messaged me and said that it was good to see me. We chatted on and off for a few days and I had unknowingly used the wrong version of the word ‘straight’ a few times. I will never forget him texting me and saying (and I quote) “It’s straight, not strait. Straight as in a line and strait is a body of water. You’ll thank me later.” If you can’t tell by reading my blog posts, I’m a little bit sassy. I was taken back that this guy that I barely knew was correcting me. Who did he think he was? But then in the back of my mind… I kind of liked it. I didn’t love Poodle by any means at that point, but that was the exact moment I knew Poodle was different and he sparked my interest.

Another moment that sticks out in my mind was after Poodle and I had been casually hanging out for a couple of months, one day Poodle text me and said “I want to take you on a real date.” I was starting to develop feelings for Poodle so I was really excited. Everything up until this point had been very casual between him and I. I would always drive myself and we would meet at places whenever we would hang out. This night was different. Poodle picked me up from my house which he had never done before. He was wearing a button up shirt which I had never seen him do. When I got in his car, he just had it washed and cleaned. I could tell he had put thought and effort into this night of us hanging out. It was different than any of the other times. I felt a little silly because I was just in a t-shirt, denim shorts, and Converse. I should have put more effort into my outfit that night. When I went to sit down in the front seat of his car, I noticed that there was an envelope with my name on it on my seat. I opened it and it was a card with a monkey on it. Poodle said some really nice things in it about how we had gone about things backwards but he was really happy to be taking me on a real date. At the end he said “I got you this card because I miss you when you’re not around. Hell, I miss you when you leave the room. That… and who doesn’t like monkeys.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Poodle always knew what to say in a card to make me smile. Besides, he was right… Who doesn’t like monkeys?

A month later I left town for a week with my family on vacation. I talked to Poodle the entire I time I was gone. We FaceTimed for the first time when I was on that trip. When he answered my FaceTime call, for no apparent reason, he was wearing Spiderman mask. I couldn’t stop laughing. I had also mentioned that there were these cute shoes that I wanted to buy but for some reason I didn’t. I can’t remember why. I’m not sure if it was because they didn’t have my size or if it was because they were at a beach front shop and severely overpriced. When I got home from my vacation, I immediately went to see Poodle to take him a shirt I had bought him that said “I rented this slut” which he proudly wore. When I got to poodles house, there was a bouquet of flowers, some homemade chocolate chip cookies (I still have yet to meet anyone that can bake chocolate chip cookies as good as Poodles), a pink iPod cable, and a card. The card said how much he had missed me and at the bottom he wrote “Don’t buy those shoes you liked. I already bought them for you and they will be here next week.” It was really cute that he remembered me mentioning them and that he remembered my shoe size.

It wasn’t a one sided love either. My entire day revolved around doing what I could to make Poodle happy because as I’ve stated in previous posts, his happiness was my happiness. I would wake up early with Poodle and start his shower for him, make us breakfast, pack him a lunch, and send him out the door. I would be sure to make sure I was off work before him so that I could clean up the house, have his laundry done, and have dinner ready when he walked through the door. He worked far more than I did and I didn’t want his few hours at night to be spent worrying about cleaning or getting his laundry done. I wanted him to be able to relax and for us to be able to enjoy what little time we had together. Whenever Poodle would go out of town, I would pack him a travel bag full of the most ridiculous things I could find like TMNT word cross puzzles, a slinky, glow sticks, his favorite snack, or anything else I could find that I know would make him laugh, but that I also knew he would secretly use and enjoy. He would always leave me a surprise on my pillow with a card telling me he was counting down the seconds until he could come home to me. Poodle and I exchanged cards every single month on the 8th because that was the day of our anniversary. It didn’t matter if it was 3 months or 16 months. We both made an effort to always remember the small things whether it be a text checking in with one another throughout the day, a card, or even just lending the other person an ear to listen about their day.

I’ll never forget a card Poodle gave me on Thanksgiving after we had been seeing one another for about 6 months and one line he wrote in there said “I don’t know where we are heading, but one thing I do know that you have changed my heart.” That line has always stayed with me because that is the closest thing I can find to describe how I felt about Poodle. I didn’t understand why I felt so strongly about him and I didn’t know why it was him of all people that I felt that way about, but he did change my heart forever. He taught me that I could feel something for someone that I didn’t even know that I was capable of feeling. He was the first person to teach me that true love is unselfish.

As you can see, falling in love with Poodle was incredibly easy. I fell in love with him several times over the course of our relationship.

All of those aspects of our relationship were perfect because mine and Poodle’s love for one another was perfect.

I wanted to share those few snapshots of our relationship with you, because I want you guys to understand what I’m talking about when I say love is simple. Poodle correcting my grammar, having his car cleaned for our first “official date” and writing me a funny card, him remembering my shoe size, writing me silly cards, and being able to enjoy each others company while sitting on the couch were a few of the things that made falling in love with him over and over and over so simple.

One of the top three fights that Poodle and I ever has was over paint. Yep. You heard me correctly. Paint. It was WEEKS of stubborn behavior, us barely speaking, and both of us making passive aggressive comments to one another. We have laughed now about what a ridiculous waste of time that fight was and we both openly admit that we were wrong in different ways, but thats what relationships are. They are complicated. Even over something as stupid as paint. What is funny to me is that when we have a bad day in a relationship, we seem to question everything, but when we have a bad day when we’re single, it’s just that. A bad day. My mom always says the quote “There’s a thin line between love and hate.” and it is absolutely true. You can love someone SO much with all of your heart and soul and even be willing to take a bullet for them if necessary, but that same person can also cause a type of anger in you that you didn’t even know was possible where you to have steam coming out of your ears because you are so frustrated that they cannot understand why a polkadot wall is so damn important to you.

There were many slammed doors, nights of sleeping on the couch, days of silent treatment, arguments, different points of view, and A LOT of stubbornness. Poodle and I have two completely different personalities.

Loving someone is simple. All of the other things that happen in a relationship are what complicated things. Some people can pull through their obstacles and some people can’t. In the end, everything always works out how it should.

I hope that gives you a better explanation. 🙂

Q: In your opinion, why do you think so many people read your blog?

A: I have no idea why so many people read my blog. If I would have known that this was going to be successful, I would have started writing this blog two years ago. Then again, two years ago I was not emotionally ready to put myself out there like I am today. Writing this blog is really hard you guys. I have sat in front of my laptop and cried writing every single post except the Bottle Rat series because that wasn’t emotional or sad, it was hilarious. It’s very emotional thinking about the past whether it be good or bad. However, I am so happy that you guys have found entertainment out of it and hopefully you’ve learned a thing or two as well.

I think people read my blog for different reasons.

I think that guys I’ve gone on dates with or have dated read it to see if I write about them.

I think single women read it because they can relate to what I’m going through.

I think married women read it because they feel peace knowing that they get to snuggle in bed next to their prince charming every night while us single girls are out here slaying the trolls in order to find our “Mr. Right.”

I think single men read it and take notes about the things that irritate me so that they are sure not to do them on their future dates.

I think married men read it to see if their now wife did any of the crazy things I have done while they were dating.

We’ve all dated, loved, experienced heartbreak, acted crazy, acted sane, or had someone act crazy towards us. It doesn’t matter if you are a male, female, single, dating, or married, there is SOMETHING you can relate to in my blog. It’s a jungle out there in the dating world. Even if someone can’t find anything to relate to in my entire blog, I at least try to make it entertaining for you guys to read.

Thanks for the great questions you guys! Email me your questions for next week at SwipedOutLV@gmail.com!

xoxox,
Ally

PS If you click the “Follow” button on my home page, it will prompt you for your email address. By submitting it, you will receive an email each time I post a blog entry. Your email address will never be sold to a third party and the only emails you will ever receive from me are updates each time I post a blog entry. 😉

Follow me!

Facebook:

Blog: https://www.facebook.com/SwipedOutLV/

Personal: https://www.facebook.com/AllysonStagg

Instagram:

Blog: @SwipedOutLV

Personal: @AllyStagg

Twitter: @SwipedOutLV

Email: SwipedOutLV@gmail.com

Advertisements

The OG Bottle Rats: Part 2

After Joe kissed me he took a step back and I was looking around trying to decide if I were in a dream or not. I glanced over at Barbie and Ellie. Their jaws were on the floor and they seemed just as shocked as I was that Joe had just kissed me. I hadn’t ever drank alcohol before, so even though we only had a couple of drinks, I felt as if I were swimming around a fish bowl. Suddenly I heard Joe yell “SHOTS!!!” which snapped me out of my fishbowl daze and back into reality.

Everyone cheered and we gathered around the table to do a round of shots. Joe unstacked the shot glasses, grabbed the gigantic bottle of Grey Goose, and started pouring the shots. Once Joe poured the shots of vodka and they were dispersed, he looked over at me and realized that I didn’t have one. They had only put 7 shot glasses out at or table, but there were 8 of us there. Joe glanced around for our cocktail server to see if he could get another shot glass but she was no where in sight. Joe grabbed one of the rocks glasses (Shot glass= 1 ounce Rocks Glass= 4 ounces) filled it with vodka, laughed and said “Here Ally. This is your shot.” I slowly reached for the glass and looked at Barbie and Ellie. They were both wide eyed with stern looks on their faces. I could hear their thoughts screaming at me from across the room saying “Don’t you dare mess this up. Act cool Ally. If you freak out they are going to know that we lied about our age.” I forced a smile as Joe gave a little toast, but I wasn’t listening to a word he said. I was mentally preparing myself to take this shot that I didn’t want to take. I had never taken a shot before. The next thing I knew, I heard everyone yell “CHEERS!!!” while clinking their glasses together. This was it. I turned around to hide my face, plugged my nose, and chugged every last bit of alcohol out of that glass.

Okay. Hold on.

Now that I am an adult, I can tell you how an adult would have handled that situation. An adult would have said “No thank you. I don’t want to take a shot. I appreciate your offer though.” THAT’S what an adult would have done. When adults don’t want a drink, they simply decline it. Not once in my adult years have I ever declined a drink or a shot and someone has said “YOU DON’T WANT A SHOT?!?! You must be underage. Leave this facility right now.” Buuuuutttt I was only 17 at the time and had no idea how things worked in the adult world. I was a stupid teenager and I drank the entire shot.

I could feel the vodka burning my esophagus as it dripped down the back of my throat and I immediately knew that I had made the wrong decision by drinking that quadruple shot. I sat down on the velvet couch and was breathing out of my mouth so that I wouldn’t have to taste the vodka. Everyone was walking around me talking with one another while I sat there with my head spinning and I tried not to puke. I was trying to distract myself so I glanced over at the cocktail table in front of me that had a beautiful spread of fruits and juices to mix cocktails with. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a tray of gorgeously displayed chocolate covered strawberries. I immediately shoved a couple of them in my mouth to try and get rid of the vodka taste. I was hoping that if I could get rid of the taste of alcohol, I wouldn’t throw up. Once I ate a few chocolate covered strawberries, I felt a little better. Joe came over and sat down next to me and started making small talk with me. I was intoxicated at this point so I can’t give you any details as to what we were talking about I just remember thinking to myself ‘Look into his eyes when he is talking to you and don’t throw up.’ Then Joe leaned in and kissed me again. After a few moments of kissing, I started to get hot and I was feeling claustrophobic. Before I had time to realize what was happening, I pulled away from Joe as fast as I could, stood up, and then I puked all.over.Joe. I’m not talking about I puked and a little tiny bit on the floor and it splashed on Joe’s shoe. I’m talking about puke all over his shirt, pants, and shoes. To make matters worse, since I was standing up as I threw up I also puked down the front of my $19 white cocktail dress. Joe and I were drenched in chocolate covered strawberry vodka puke. Joe shrieked and before I could say a word, I was being escorted out of the club by the bouncers. As they walked me out of the nightclub Barbie and Ellie were following close behind shaking their heads.

The bouncers set me free outside the entrance to the nightclub. Barbie and Ellie swooped in and each girl grabbed me by an arm and started pulling me towards the nearest restroom. They were annoyed because they were having a great time talking to all of the hot guys in VIP area. Barbie looked at me and said “We’re going to clean you up and we’re going back in there. YOU WERE MAKING OUT WITH JOE!!! Get your shit together, Ally.” I was beyond fishbowl status at this point. I was floating around solo in a large aquarium. I’m friendzilla standing tall at 5’6” plus I had on my acrylic stripper shoes so I was easily 5’9.” Barbie was a tiny little thing. She was maybe 5’2” and weighted 100 pounds soaking wet. I remember tiny ass little Barbie throwing me into a bathroom stall and sitting me on the toilet while Ellie stood on the look out. As I sat on the toilet, Barbie was yelling at me while trying to clean the chocolate covered strawberry vodka puke stain out of my white dress with a piece of the shitty one ply toilet paper. Looking back, I can’t help but laugh. Did we really think we were going to make that stain disappear with some shitty one ply toilet paper? I’m a mom now and it takes me an entire bottle of Shout and 163 washes to get a damn grass stain out of my son’s baseball pants. How dumb were we to think simply rubbing the stain with one ply toilet paper in a bathroom stall was going to get that stain out? Also… We were in a public restroom at 2:00 in the morning. What exactly were we having Ellie “look out” for? A ghost? It’s all comical looking back.

Barbie took a step back because she started to realize that no matter how hard she scrubbed, that stain wasn’t coming out of my white cocktail dress anytime soon. Then I saw her eyes light up and she said “I have my dad’s credit card! Let’s just go buy you a new dress!” She dragged me out of the stall and all three of us headed towards the row of shops that were at that particular hotel. As we walked through the row of shops, we started to notice a pattern. They were all closed. The only store that was open at 2:00am was the gift shop. Looking at the window displays, the gift shop didn’t look very promising. There were tacky Las Vegas shirts and a ton of sequined hats and fanny packs, but we thought we would try anyway. We walked into the gift shop and Barbie and Ellie wandered off to see if they could find me a dress. I was feeling dizzy and sick so I stayed near the entrance of the gift shop so that I could lean against the wall. As I stood there and replayed the events that had occurred over the last hour in my head, this guy approached me and was being a little forward and aggressive with me. I was not in the mood to deal with him so I ignored him hoping that he would go away. I was wrong. He wasn’t going to go away. Right as I was about to tell him to scram, I heard Barbie yell from the other side of the gift shop “Who do you think you are asshole!?!? Stay the hell away from my friend!!!” Barbie then took off one of her high heels and threw it across the gift shop and managed to smack the creep that wouldn’t leave me alone right in the back of head. I was in complete shock… well, not really. Barbie was tiny, but she was a feisty little firecracker. I heard Ellie yell “THAT’S ENOUGH!!! We’re done. We’ve avoided getting into trouble all night but at this point, you two are just begging for it.” Ellie had been fairly silent through this entire debacle since we had been thrown out of the nightclub but she was fed up with Barbie and I at this point. She grabbed both Barbie and I and dragged us through the casino and up to the car on the roof of the parking garage.

I had the spins so I sprawled out in the back seat of the car as we drove across town to go home. We were all quiet on the home for different reasons. Ellie was irritated with Barbie and I. I had the spins and I felt like I might puke if I talked. Barbie was pissed that we had to leave because she was having fun talking to all of the cute guys. As I sloshed around the backseat on our drive home, I knew I was going to have to puke again. I warned the girls but we were on the freeway so there wasn’t anything they could do. We all frantically searched for a bag for me to puke in, but we couldn’t find one in time. I puked all over the backseat carpet. I made a decision right then and there that I would NEVER EVER EVER do a shot again for the rest of my life (lie.)

I felt the car come to a stop and I was so happy to be back at Barbie’s house so that I could go to sleep, but when I opened the car door, we weren’t at Barbie’s house. We were at a self serve car wash in the ghetto. I was so sad. All I wanted to do was go to sleep. Ellie and Barbie told me to go sit on the curb so they could clean my puke out of the backseat. I wasn’t capable of sitting up by myself at this point so I sprawled out on the pavement similar to what a chalk outline of a dead person looks like while I waited for them to clean the carpet. As I gazed up at the stars thinking about how I had just ruined my chance to become the first Mrs. Joe, I saw flashing lights out of the corner of my eyes. I looked over, and there was a cop car pulling into the self serve car wash. I glanced around to see who the cops could possibly going to talk to, but I realized we were the only car in that parking lot at 3:00am. I completely panicked and didn’t know what to do so I did the only thing I could think of. I decided to stay right where I was and pretend to be asleep. I was in no condition to talk to a cop and deal with this situation. My heart was pounding out of my chest as I listened to Barbie and Ellie talk to the cop. After what seemed like an eternity (but in all reality was probably only a few minutes) I peeked out of the corner of my eye and saw the cop shake Barbie and Ellie’s hands, get in his car, and drive away.

Barbie and Ellie returned the mat to the backseat while I crawled across the pavement and hopped into the backseat of the car (after I swore up and down that I wasn’t going to throw up again.) Barbie and Ellie briefed me that they told the cop that I was drunk and sick and they were just trying to be good friends and get me home safely. What they told the cop was all true…. they just left out the fact that we were only 17 years old. Barbie called her younger siblings on the way home after we left the self serve car wash and told them I was sick and to prepare for our arrival. When we finally arrived to her house we went in her room and her siblings had lined the entire bed with towels and put a huge metal cooking pot on a stool next to the bed. I took off my puke dress, threw it in the garbage can, and I crawled into bed.

Now that I’m in my 30’s and the mother of two little minions, my hobbies are far less impressive. They include hibernating in my house for as many days as possible while I blog and send ugly pictures of myself to my sister on Snapchat, color coordinate my closet, watching little league baseball games, and cleaning up my spawn’s puke. Going to bed at 9:00pm is my absolute favorite thing to do. These days, you won’t catch me dead in a nightclub. I love my peaceful, quiet, messy little mommy life that I have created. However, back in the day there was a time when I was cool and I actually did go out and do things. I had a few fun adventures along the way that gave me a couple good stories to write about… like the night I met Joe.

And that was the night that before all forms of social media and photoshop filters, Barbie, Ellie, and I unintentionally became the first generation of OG Bottle Rats.

It was also the night I threw up on the biggest celebrity that I have met to date, humiliated myself, and completely ruined my chances of becoming Mrs. Joe.

xoxox,
Ally

PS If you click the “Follow” button on my home page, it will prompt you for your email address. By submitting it, you will receive an email each time I post a blog entry. Your email address will never be sold to a third party and the only emails you will ever receive from me are updates each time I post a blog entry. 😉

Follow me!

Facebook:

Blog: https://www.facebook.com/SwipedOutLV/

Personal: https://www.facebook.com/AllysonStagg

Instagram:

Blog: @SwipedOutLV

Personal: @AllyStagg

Twitter: @SwipedOutLV

Email: SwipedOutLV@gmail.com

The OG Bottle Rats: Part 1

After writing my blog entry yesterday, I couldn’t stop thinking about how different our lives are today because of social media.

When I was in high school, we didn’t have social media. I think that halfway through my senior year MySpace was introduced to the world but that was it. When I was in high school I had a Nokia phone that I would play snake on. I rarely bothered to text message anyone because I had to press the “7” button four times just to type the letter “S.” It was quicker and easier for me to walk to my friends house to ask them a question than it was for me to attempt to text it.

Thinking about all of the differences between high school girls now compared to back when I was in high school made me realize something. Teenage girls today have Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat and countless filters and photoshop apps. They can hashtag almost anything and have 15,000 followers overnight. It’s a little frightening.

Okay. Hold on.

Mom and Dad, please stop reading this right now.

You’re still reading this, aren’t you? I know you two are still reading because you’re both far too nosy to stop reading. Suit yourself… but please remember that this was 14 years ago and it’s way too late to ground me. Also remember that mom, you don’t look a day over 40 and you’re SO skinny. Dad, I love listening to hours of your commentary on Fox News. Have I told you lately how truly hilarious and charming you really are?

Anyway…

When I thought about how simple it is for young girls to get attention these days, it made me think about how hard we had to work in high school to get attention from guys. We didn’t have picture texting, Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat let alone any sort of filters or photoshop apps. Everything had to be done live in person and that brought back a memory from 14 years ago the summer after my senior year in high school. Since it is #fbf (Flashback Friday) I thought that I would share this story with you. The night my two friends Barbara (aka Barbie) and Eleanor (aka Ellie) and I used our fake ID’s for the first time and became the OG Bottle Rats.

Okay. Hold on.

Bottle Rats (n): A group of girls who can be found in most clubs hanging around the guys who have ordered bottle service. They expect to be taken care of like they are Victoria’s Secret models. They will not pay for anything and feel like they are entitled to drinking for free. Sadly, some poor suckers think they have a chance with these tricks and fall for their trap. Of course, the fix is in and all these hoes want is some free alcohol. If the guy is lucky he will get a hug and a kiss on the cheek at the end of the night. (Source: UrbanDictionary.com)

It was a Saturday in late June. My friends Barbie, Ellie, and I had just picked up our fake ID’s earlier that week and we were ready to put them to the test. We decided that we were going to live out our fantasy and go check out the most trendy nightclub at the time in Las Vegas. It was our first time using our fake ID’s and if we were going to get them taken away, it certainly wasn’t going to be at a little dive bar on the corner of D Street and Martin Luther King Boulevard. It was going to happen at a fashionable nightclub on the Las Vegas Strip. Go big or go home right?

That afternoon I met Barbie and Ellie at Fashion Q. If we were going to go to the hottest nightclub, we needed to have the hottest nightclub apparel and nothing says classy quite like $19 dresses and acrylic stripper shoes. We each grabbed 10 different dresses off of the racks and headed to the dressing room together. At Fashion Q they didn’t have separate dressing rooms. It was one big room with mirrors and everyone had to change in there together. We were only 17 years old at the time and we weren’t very confident with our bodies yet. I remember us all giggling and trying to keep as much of ourselves covered as we could while swapping out each of our different tiny hooker dresses. We took advantage of our time in the dressing room to rehearse our stories for that evening. We planned on telling everyone that we were cocktail servers at the Barbary Coast Hotel and Casino because we figured that no one ever went there (which it turns out we were right because it went out of business and was sold shortly after) Our goal was to avoid having anyone question our story that evening. Once we had our story straight and paid for our $19 dresses and stripper shoes, we agreed to meet at Ellie’s house a few hours later. We all scurried home to shower and get ready.

A few hours later Barbie and I arrived at Ellie’s house. Ellie was an only child and her parents were the “cool” parents in our group of friends. Barbie and I knocked on Ellie’s door and she let us in. When we walked through the door, both of Ellie’s parents were standing there with their arms folded and stone cold looks on their faces. Ellie’s Dad looked at us and said “Ladies… hand them over.” and he placed out his hand. Barbie and I were completely caught off guard. We looked over at Ellie and she said “Give him your fake ID’s you guys” Barbie and I had no clue that Ellie had told her parents about our fake ID’s. Why would she do that? We knew Ellie’s parents were the cool parents, but this was supposed to be a secret pact between three friends that we were never going to tell a soul about (until 14 years later when I started writing a blog and spill everyones secrets 😉  Barbie and I pulled out our fake ID’s and handed them to Ellie’s dad. A few moments later Ellie and her parents started laughing hysterically and Ellie’s mom said “GOTCHA!” and she whipped out her camera and started snapping photos of us. Barbie, Ellie, and I positioned ourself on the stairs and took more pictures than we had at our Senior prom night a few weeks prior. We finished taking pictures and as we prepared to leave, Ellie’s mom made us swear that we were just going to the nightclub to dance and that we wouldn’t touch a drop of alcohol. We promised her we wouldn’t (lie) and we ran out the front door.

We were excited and a little nervous as we drove down to the Las Vegas Strip
blasting Nelly’s Country Grammar CD. When we arrived at the hotel that the nightclub was in, we drove up to the roof of the parking garage and Barbie parked her car. We had some pre gaming to do. One of Barbies friends bought us alcohol because we were all too scared to buy liquor ourselves with our fake ID’s. All three of us climbed on the top of Barbie’s car, took a seat, and popped open our bottles of Boone’s Farm wine.

Okay. Hold on.

Boone’s Farm wine: A ridiculously beyond bottom shelf artificially flavored “wine” that comes in flavors that no wine should ever come in (kiwi strawberry, watermelon etc.) and is sold for $2.99 a bottle.20110413-boones-farm-bottles

We sat on the roof of Barbie’s car in the parking garage laughing between gulps of our Boone’s Farm wine that we were drinking out of a brown paper bag. We were all pretty nervous about using our fake ID’s for the first time. We were hoping that catching a buzz would calm our nerves enough to get us past the bouncer and into the nightclub safely and undetected. After we finished chugging our shitty wine that tasted like an old air freshener that you would have found in your grandmas Buick, we headed inside the casino to find the nightclub.

We were buzzed and we were confident. We strutted through the casino in our $19 dresses and cheap plastic stripper heels from Fashion Q thinking we looked cooler than The Plastics when in all reality, we looked like cheap baby prostitutes.

As we approached the nightclub, our hearts dropped. There was a line wrapped half way around the casino of gorgeous women waiting to get into the nightclub. There was no way we were going to get into this nightclub. I looked at Barbie and Ellie and said “Let’s just go home you guys. I don’t want to wait in this line and our ID’s will for sure get taken away here.” Ellie got pissed and said “We dd not drive all the way down here to turn around and go home. Get your ass in line.” I’m not going to lie, I was little scared of Elllie. She was much more vocal than I was at that time. I know it’s hard to believe that at one point I was meek and shy because now I’m so loud, unfiltered, and bossy, but it’s true. I used to be the quiet girl in our group of friends. Barbie and I weren’t going to argue with Ellie, so we followed her to the back of the line to wait behind the 400 other people that were there.

After waiting in line for about 30 minutes, we hadn’t moved an inch. Our buzz from our Boone’s Farm wine was wearing off and one of the huge bouncers kept looking at us out of the corner of his eye. Ellie let out a loud sigh. I though that she was just about to tell us that we should leave when all of the sudden we heard a lot of commotion happening behind us. We all turned around and saw a huge crowd of people walking towards us. All we could see were hundreds of flashing lights, a bunch of screaming girls, and six gigantic men who looked like secret service men. Dozens of paparazzi were surrounding them snapping hundreds of photos. It felt like everything switched to slow motion for a moment. As the crowd approached us we were trying to figure out what was going on. We were trying to catch a glimpse of who’s identity the guards were protecting. We watched the group waltz up to bouncer at the front of the line and without any hesitation they pulled back the red velvet ropes. Right as the secret service men parted like the Red Sea, we finally saw him. An A-list celebrity who I am going to refer to as Joe walked out of the center of the crowd. He took a long pause and looked around. Then he took off his sunglasses, whispered something to the bouncer ,and then he quickly walked through the red velvet ropes and disappeared into the darkness of the nightclub entrance.

Ellie, Barbie, and I were discussing whether we were going to do leave or stay and wait a little bit longer to see if we could get in the nightclub when one of the bouncers came up behind us and tapped Barbie on the shoulder. This was it. We were caught. They knew we were underage. They were going to take our fake ID’s and have us arrested. Then I was going to have to call my mormon parents to have them come and bail me out of jail. (…again. Just kidding! Don’t worry. My parents didn’t have to bail me out of jail until a few years later lol)  Barbie leaned over to me and whispered “Keep your shit together Ally. And act like you’re 21” I was 17. I didn’t know how 21 year olds acted. My sister was 21, but she still hated me so I didn’t have anyone to teach me how to act 21 when I’m really only 17. After what seemed like forever, Barbie finally said “Yes sir?” The bouncer told us to follow him so we did. The bouncer led us to the front of the line. Ellie and Barbie whipped out their fake ID’s and handed them to the bouncer. My hands were shaking as I took mine out of my Betsy Johnson clutch. The bouncers studied our ID’s like we were attempting to sneak over the boarder. One bouncer looked at the other bouncer and said “ Okay. All good. Joe requested that these girls be escorted to his table. Please walk them up to VIP.”

Wait. Did we just hear that correctly?

Barbie, Ellie, and I were trying to keep calm but we were all freaking out internally. The bouncer led us through the red velvet ropes and up the elevator to the VIP area. We looked over the railing from the VIP balcony. The club was packed like sardines. The VIP area was much more quiet and luxurious. The bouncer continued to walk us through the VIP section to a secret VIP section. We walked into the room and there was Joe. Sitting on a velvet couch with a scotch in his hand and a slew of his hot male friends around him.

I want you to take a second to really appreciate how amazing this moment felt. We were just three 17 year old relatively good girls. Even though we grew up in Las Vegas, we hadn’t experienced that much in our lives yet. Just a few weeks prior we were at theater rehearsal and cheerleading practice and tonight we were at the most popular nightclub on the Las Vegas Strip getting escorted up to the VIP section to hang out with one of the biggest A-list celebrities AT HIS REQUEST. Our minds were blown.

We sat down and Joe introduced himself as well as his friends. He asked our names and we told him a little bit about ourselves. He was warm and friendly. One of his friends made us each a cocktail from literally the biggest bottle of Grey Goose that I had ever seen. We sipped our cocktails and chatted with the guys. Once we had a drink or two in us and they seemed to be believing our little white lies about our age and occupations, Barbie, Ellie, and I started to relax and really enjoy ourselves.

Barbie, Ellie, and I were drinking and dancing in the VIP area with Joe and his friends for hours. We were having such an amazing time. The guys were all really nice and very handsome. Looking back, we were probably a breath of fresh air for those guys to hang out with. We were young, carefree, and fun. Our only worry at that moment was anyone finding out that we weren’t really 21 years old. Since we were so young and naive, we were different from the LA girls or the typical Vegas stereotype girls that Joe and his friends were used to surrounding themselves with. They were obviously different from the high school guys we were used to hanging around. They were mature, handsome, fun, and they had the funds to support this lavish VIP lifestyle that I could have never provided on my $5.35 per hour minimum wage salary.

Before Instagram. Before Snapchat. Before Filters. When all we had was Nokia phones with Snake on them. Barbie, Ellie, and I became the OG (but also very much unintentional) Bottle Rats.

As we were all laughing and dancing around the VIP area, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and it was Joe. He looked at me and said “You guys are so much fun and you are so beautiful.” Then Joe leaned in and kissed me. And I kissed him back.

This is just the beginning of Barbie, Ellie, and I’s story that night, but my fingers are tired and this is going to be a 2-3 part story so you guys will have to come back to see how the rest of our night with Joe and his entourage went. 😉

xoxox,
Ally

PS If you click the “Follow” button on my home page, it will prompt you for your email address. By submitting it, you will receive an email each time I post a blog entry. Your email address will never be sold to a third party and the only emails you will ever receive from me are updates each time I post a blog entry. 😉

Follow me!

Facebook:

Blog: https://www.facebook.com/SwipedOutLV/

Personal: https://www.facebook.com/AllysonStagg

Instagram:

Blog: @SwipedOutLV

Personal: @AllyStagg

Twitter: @SwipedOutLV

Email: SwipedOutLV@gmail.com

Modern Romance: Chapter 1

This week, I started reading the book Modern Romance by Aziz Ansari. This is the book that Seaman selected as the first book for our virtual bookclub.

I was pleasantly surprised that this isn’t just a silly book of nonsense that a standup comedian wrote to cash in on their fifteen minutes of fame. The extensive amount of research that was put into this book by Aziz and a gigantic team of experts was very impressive. I was eager to start chapter one and see exactly what this book was all about.

The title of chapter one is Searching for your Soulmate. I was instantly intrigued because I literally just wrote about this exact topic two days ago. I have been on the hunt for my soulmate for quite sometime now and I was hoping that this chapter would give me some ideas on how to navigate through my journey of finding my soulmate.

The book starts off by comparing courting in the 1940’s to modern day dating and how different they are. No matter how different courting eighty years ago is from today, the end result is still the same. We are all looking for a partner to share our life with. However, how people went about it then and how we go about it today are completely different.

The first pie chart placed in this chapter (that was backed up by a study done by a professor at a University in the 1940’s) showed that in the 1940’s, 1/3 of the couples that were married lived within a five block radius growing up of the person that they eventually ended up marrying.

Okay. Hold on.

My parents have lived in the same home for almost 25 years. I grew up in that house. I can only think of FOUR guys that are close to my age that lived in a five block radius from my parents house. Out of those four men, I didn’t even know that one of them lived across the street from me growing up until four years ago. He had a zone variance to go to a different middle school. We went to the same high school but he was two years older than I was so we never really crossed paths. Besides, I have already dated that guy which means if we were still doing this unspoken “5 block radius rule” that they did in the 1940’s, I would be left with THREE men to choose from as my life partner. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all great guys… but THREE MEN?!? That is not a sufficient selection for me to choose my soulmate from.

In the past, If a man wanted to date a woman, he would meet her parents fairly early on in the relationship and seek their approval. If all went according to plan and her parents approved, the couple would marry shortly after.

Okay. Hold on.

I love my parents very much. I will always listen to them with the upmost respect and hear what they have to say because I value their opinion, but at the end of the day, this is MY life. I am the one who will have to wake up and go to sleep next to them each day and each night. I am the one who will have to suck up my pride and figure out a way to apologize when I have hurt them. I am the one who will have to soften my heart to hear and accept their apology when they’ve hurt me. I am the one who will build a home and start a family with that person. I am the one who has to sit across from this person at breakfast and dinner for the next 80 years. I am the one who will have to deal with them when they are being cranky and I am also the one who will get to celebrate their victories and accomplishments with them. They are the one who will have to listen to me snore every night. They are the one who will have to eat my shitty cooking and questionable baking experiments everyday. They are the one who will have to listen to me belt musicals or gangster rap at the top of my lungs on a road trip. They are the one who will have to supervise me anytime I’m eating or drinking. I lost the feeling in my lower lip when I had my wisdom teeth removed when I was 14 years old so if my future partner doesn’t keep an eye on me, I will drip and drool all over myself and not even realize it. Of course I want my parents to love and accept my future partner, but who I choose to be with is ultimately not their decision. Luckily my parents understand this and have loved and accepted everyone that I have ever dated. My parents have always put their feelings aside and loved, supported, and encouraged whatever makes me as their daughter happy. Can I PLEASE get a round of applause for Lance and Stacy Stagg?

In the 1940’s the average age for a woman to get married was 20 years old and the average age for a man was 23 years old.

Okay. Hold on.

I was married when I was 21 years old, had a baby by the age of 22, and I was separated from my husband shortly after. Do you want to know why? Because I was an infant. I certainly tried to be a good wife and I think I did a pretty good job considering how young and inexperienced I was. I had no idea how much maturing, growing, and learning that I needed to do in order for me to be a valuable partner to someone. I am not saying that it’s wrong to get married young or that it won’t work out if you do. I am only speaking for myself.

In the past, you only had a landline. If you happened to miss a phone call you would have to wait until school or work the next day to speak to your love interest. Today our love interests are accessible virtually 24/7 thanks to the many forms of technology and social media.

Sometimes social media feels like a double edge sword in the world of modern day dating. I know that we have all been in that situation where we spend days working up the courage to text our love interest. We spend countless hours thinking of the perfect text to send them (which usually only ends up being one sentence) Eventually we find the right words to compose it, proofread that one sentence text message 638 times, and then we hit send and anxiously wait.

And we wait.

And we wait.

We wait for minutes that eventually turn into hours that eventually turn into days before we are finally forced to accept the fact that our love interest chose not to respond to our one sentence text message.

As if the rejection of an unanswered text message wasn’t enough, we then log into Instagram to see what new memes are floating around and of course the first thing you see is a picture of nachos that your love interest posted 17 minutes ago. The person you spent days building up the courage to text and then spent a few more days waiting for a response from didn’t have the time to respond to your text message, but they did have time to post a picture of their freaking nachos. Thanks to social media, just when you didn’t think you could feel like a bigger piece of shit, suddenly you do.

Some people also choose to use social media as a tool to torture themselves by stalking their current and past love interests. Just in case you weren’t feeling bad enough about yourself after the nacho incident, here’s a picture of your ex boyfriend proposing to his new finance. Here’s a picture of your crush on a date with her new boyfriend. I’m the opposite. I don’t want to see or know any of that. I block, delete, avoid, and erase everything I possibly can in a pathetic attempt to ‘eternal sunshine of the spotless mind’ anyone that I have ever cared about. Out of site, out of mind… Right?

Back in the day, I preferred to torture myself in a much more personal way. In my bedroom I used to keep a box of every single handwritten letter or card that Poodle had ever given me. I would spend hours reading them over and over one by one as I bawled my eyes out reminiscing over the way that Poodle and I used to feel for one another. Nothing between Poodle and I has ever been logical. Especially for any outsiders looking in.

It wasn’t logic. It was love.

Even though I knew in my head that Poodle and I were over, it took me a very long time for my heart to accept what my head already knew. For some reason I had convinced myself that by me physically boxing up everything that I had acquired during mine and Poodle’s time together meant that I would forget everything that had ever happened between us. I thought that our handwritten love letters, greeting cards, our handwritten Yahtzee score cards (yes I kept those), laser tag score sheets (but only the games I beat him lol), photographs, room keys from places we had stayed, wine corks from important moments in our relationship, silly gag gifts we would get each other like the time I had my breast augmentation and Poodle brought me a tiara, bell, and ergonomic reacher,  post-it notes that Poodle would write a note on and sneak upstairs and stick on my vanity mirror while I cleaned up breakfast downstairs, our concert tickets, our sporting event tickets, our movie stubs, our wine tasting passes… I thought that they would be erased and forgotten if I put them in a box and tucked them into the depths of my messy garage. Eventually I realized that boxing up all of mine and Poodle’s memories wasn’t a negative thing, but a positive thing. Me tucking away our memories didn’t make our time together any less special, important, or relevant and it certainly didn’t mean that I would forget any of the wonderful memories or moments Poodle and I were fortunate enough to create and share with one another. Putting everything away was symbolic of me finally closing that chapter in my life so that I could turn the page with an open mind and heart.

Please believe me when I tell you that no one is more fed up with modern day dating than I am. You guys know. You have read some of my dating horror stories. However, with all of the annoyance and frustration also comes a lot of advantages. It opens up so many different opportunities that we didn’t have in the past. Instead of focusing on all of the different types of rejection it has made us aware of, we should focus on how many potential new doors it opens. Instead of feeling obligated to marry one of the three guys in a 5 block radius of my childhood home, social media and technology has opened my world up to dating anyone that I choose. I can date a guy in Wisconsin or Tennessee or even London if I want to. I am absolutely determined to find my soulmate and that once in a lifetime love. Thanks to social media and technology my chances of doing so have vastly improved. We no longer have to follow the predetermined cookie cutter relationships with specific gender roles that people have followed for so many years.

All of the advances in technology have given us access to unlimited options as to how we can find, pursue, and endeavor relationships.

In my opinion, the reasons people would get married in the 1940’s were not nearly as valuable as the reasons people get married today. Back then, if your parents liked the guy, he had a decent job, you could tolerate him, and you felt that you two could have a stable life together in your gender specific roles, you got married. In this day and age when we marry, we are marrying solely for love. Isn’t that an incredible thing?

Pura vida!

xoxox,
Ally

PS If you click the “Follow” button on my home page, it will prompt you for your email address. By submitting it, you will receive an email each time I post a blog entry. Your email address will never be sold to a third party and the only emails you will ever receive from me are updates each time I post a blog entry. 😉

Follow me!

Facebook:

Blog: https://www.facebook.com/SwipedOutLV/

Personal: https://www.facebook.com/AllysonStagg

Instagram:

Blog: @SwipedOutLV

Personal: @AllyStagg

Twitter: @SwipedOutLV

Email: SwipedOutLV@gmail.com

…and the gloves are off… (Q and A Week 4)

I was laughing so hard (in the best way ever) at your questions this week. Out of about 150 questions 66 were about Seaman and 39 were about my sister, Brat-tany aka Brit Brat aka Brittany. Let’s get started answering a few of your questions.

Q: Who is Cowboy Casanova?

A: YOU GUYS! I’m still not telling! lol

Q: How did your sister know that you wore her shirt that day.

A: This was actually a really good question because ironically even I didn’t know the answer. I don’t think that I have ever asked her this question at any point in time over the past twenty years. After so many of you asking me the exact same question and being curious myself, I text my sister to ask her. She said:

“Dude I just KNEW!! I think it was a newer shirt that Ben (my sister’s Abercrombie and Fitch working hunky boyfriend) had got me and I went home to change into it or just happened to see it missing… but I knew right away lolz. Almost 20 years ago so my memory is kind of hazy”

Q: You said you had two good dates with Seaman, but we have yet to hear anything more about him. What gives?

A: Seaman doesn’t live in the same state as I do. It’s as simple as that. I talk to him frequently and we’re doing our virtual book club but that’s all there is to tell you guys. For now… 😉

Q: Are you going to be making this into a reality series? If so do you need some help?

A: I get questions like this every week. People are asking what the next step is for me and at this moment I have absolutely no clue. Podcast? YouTube Channel? Video blog? Magazine column? Book? Reality series? Sitcom based roughly on my blog content? I have no idea. I’m just happy that you guys enjoy reading my blog. I’m not sure where it is going to lead, if anywhere at all. I’m just taking this day by day. There are no plans for anything beside an updated website… but things could change at any moment. 🙂

I received this email a couple of days ago and I would like to address it in todays Q and A post.

Dear Ally,

Hello. How are you doing? I can’t imagine you being single, but then again we don’t know anything about eachother. I’d be happy to converse with you and possibly share each others stories. How would you feel about that? I checked out your blog… and I will say you are a very good writer and that’s the truth, also very interesting names you have for your exes, and speaking of that, could it be a possibility that you either look way too deep into situations or relationships. What I mean by that is if you are constantly annalizing every moment you spend with a potential Suiter, you may not be giving yourself the complete open considerations that you deserve, and in all honesty what your essentially doing is putting a man on a pedestal, and being too picky or analytical, your only concentrating on the imperfections. And when someone is constantly dialed in or focused on the negatives, NOTHING will ever be good enough. No man will ever be good enough, no job, and life in general will never be good enough. I am not saying this to be mean in any way, it’s just what I picked up after breazing over your blog. Just now this, life is too short to be constantly looking for Mr. Right.

AW

Dear AW,

*sigh*

Where do I even begin?

I will start off by saying thank you for reading my blog and for complimenting my writing. I appreciate you taking the time to write me an email and give me your feedback even if your feedback (in my humble opinion) is completely off base.

In your email, you asked if it is possible that I look too deep into situations and that I’m constantly analyzing everything… The answer is YES! Of course I am constantly paying attention to the person I am dating and analyzing everything that is being done and said between us. I’m a woman. Analyzing is one of our most powerful skills. The only skill that exceeds our analyzing skills is our ability to lurk mens lives more quickly and thoroughly than the FBI if we feel the need to do so.

I am not a 20 year old college student who is just starting her adventure into adulthood. I have experienced enough in my life to know exactly what I am looking for in a partner and I am also fully aware of the things that I am not looking for in a partner. I do not have three years to spare dating someone that I know in the back of my mind will never blossom into anything more than a shallow relationship. I do not have any more time to waste dating douche bags. I did enough of that in my 20’s. I am a divorced, single mother in my 30’s with two children who works full time and goes to school part time.

I would also like to inform you that I am not single because there are no options for me out in the world. I am single by choice. There is a huge difference between those two things. In my 20’s I dated a couple of people that I probably shouldn’t have dated. I wasn’t confident in who I was, I didn’t know any better, and I was scared to be alone. Now that I am older and have a little more life experience, I can clearly see that there is opportunity for me to sleep around, date around, and do whatever I want. I personally make a conscious decision to be selective and reserve certain things for a quality moment with the right man.

I am not overly critical, picky, analytical, focused on the negatives, or dialed into someones imperfections. I am simply a woman who knows what she wants. If I’m dating someone and I know that something is missing and it will never be the type of love that I want and deserve, I am not going to waste either of our time. I would rather spend the next 80 years alone searching for my soul mate without any luck than settle for mediocre lust. I don’t need someone. I want someone. There’s a huge difference.

I refuse to settle for anything less than amazing when it comes to love. I am not looking for a man that I can barely tolerate to spend the rest of my life with. I am looking for my soul mate and I am not going to settle for anything less than that. I want that extraordinary, mind blowing, better than I could ever comprehend or describe type of chemistry. I really don’t think I’m asking for too much.

Please do not misconstrue what I am saying. I am not delusional. I understand that relationships are hard work and NO person or relationship is anywhere near perfect. I am searching for my very own perfectly imperfect situation.

I want someone that I can’t wait to see every single day. Someone that I want to text during the day because I am genuinely concerned how their day is going. Someone I miss when they leave the room but who also appreciates that we both need our own space and alone time. I want someone who appreciates my free spirit and supports my crazy ideas but who will also put me in my place because sometimes I need to be told to calm down. I want someone who will make fun of me, call me a brat, and make me feel stupid when I throw a tantrum if I lose at a board game. I want someone who will accept me for all of my imperfections. I want someone with a kind heart who will accept my apology when I make a mistake as long as I promise to do my best to not repeat the same mistake that they are forgiving me for. I am going to do million things wrong over the next 80 years. I need someone who sees the good in me and realizes that although I will mess up and do a lot of things wrong, they know without a doubt that there will be far more things that I will do right.

Searching for my soul mate has been hard work. It has come with a lot of pain, heartbreak, embarrassment, and a ton of lessons I’ve had to learn the hard way. I know my soul mate is out there somewhere and when I find him, I know that it will make all of this exhausting work worth it. I have felt a love similar to the love I have just described once in my lifetime, so I know without a shadow of a doubt that it exists. It is simply up to me to get out there and find it.

After I finished reading your email, I was curious to know a little more about you AW, so I clicked on your instagram account link and started scrolling through your photos. 90% of your photos were inappropriate quotes about sex (and please keep in mind that I am far from a prude), pictures of naked women, and memes such as “Ladies if this is all you have to offer a man (insert picture of a woman’s ass here) then message me because I’m okay with that.” I think that it is appalling that you would have the nerve to compose and send an email to me judging me based off the honest and raw emotions that I pour into my blog (that you willingly chose to read, by the way) when your entire Instagram feed is nothing more than softcore pornographic memes that degrade women. I am certainly not judging you on that because I believe that we should all feel free to be who we are without the judgement of others… Especially judgement from people who don’t know us. *cough cough* In the future, before you start making harsh assumptions about someone that you do not even know, you might want to take a long hard look at yourself and think twice before throwing negative words about others out into the universe.

Please know AW, that you are EXACTLY the type of boy (not man, boy) that I am relentlessly trying to avoid while navigating through the harsh world of dating. Thank you for including your Instagram link so that I could put a face with a name. That way I will be certain to run the opposite direction if I ever see you in public.

I hope that I was able to give you a little insight into my views and opinions. I also hope that I cleared things up for you since you were so quick to judge me based on what you read while “breazing” through my blog. Which brings me to my last point…

PLEASE… FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING HOLY… USE YOUR DAMN SPELL CHECK! IT IS LITERALLY BUILT INTO OUR PHONES! It was SO hard to take you seriously. You cannot attempt to roast someone when every other word in your email is spelled incorrectly and you do not know the difference between your and you’re.

Have a blessed day AW,
Ally

Thanks for reading you guys! I will see you all tomorrow for our first virtual bookclub where I will share my thoughts and opinions on chapter one of Modern Romance by Aziz Ansari!

xoxox,
Ally

PS If you click the “Follow” button on my home page, it will prompt you for your email address. By submitting it, you will receive an email each time I post a blog entry. Your email address will never be sold to a third party and the only emails you will ever receive from me are updates each time I post a blog entry. 😉

Follow me!

Facebook:

Blog: https://www.facebook.com/SwipedOutLV/

Personal: https://www.facebook.com/AllysonStagg

Instagram:

Blog: @SwipedOutLV

Personal: @AllyStagg

Twitter: @SwipedOutLV

Email: SwipedOutLV@gmail.com

 

Hot Bartender

At this point in my life, It had been several months since the conclusion of Poodle and Ally. Poodle and I had zero communication except for one or two drunk text messages that Snooks (Ally’s drunk alter ego) had sent to Poodle with no response from him.

In true Chicken Hand fashion, he had moved on to another girl 48 seconds after we stopped seeing one another and we were no longer speaking.

I had also made and stuck to my executive decision that I was not going to respond to any of Cowboy Casanova’s phone calls or text messages.

I know that sounds like things were going pretty shitty for me, but I was actually feeling great. Thanks to the famous breakup diet and the ridiculous amounts of Zumba I was doing, I was thinner than I had been in ten years. I was feeling confident and more self secure than I had in my entire life. Between tons of therapy, what seemed like five thousand self help books that I read, and countless hours of sleepless nights that I spent soul searching, I had finally realized that I had a decent head on my shoulders and a better sense of character judgement than I was giving myself credit for. As hard as it is to let go and say goodbye to people, I knew that I had done the right thing by letting Poodle, Chicken Hand, and Cowboy Casanova all go. I wasn’t necessarily over Poodle and Chicken Hand in different ways for different reasons, but deep down I knew that neither of them were the right man for me long term. Back then I refused to admit that I still missed Poodle and that I was still hurting over our breakup, but looking back I was still completely wrapped around his finger even if I hadn’t seen him or heard his voice in months. I missed my friendship with Chicken Hand. Even though I knew that Chicken Hand and I were not the right fit (especially at that time in my life) for a romantic relationship, we had so much fun together and I truly missed the crazy and random things that Chicken Hand would suggest we do. I’m always up for an adventure so I would immediately hop on board to any and all of Chicken Hands wild ideas.

One evening when Chicken Hand and I were still hanging out, he text me and asked if I wanted to go to a poetry stomp. I was a little skeptical because it was at a sketchy bar and I had never been to a poetry stomp before, but I agreed because I’m always up to try something new. The poetry stomp was incredible and by far one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. I’m a theater major so I really connected with the honesty and rawness of it. The performers were all barefoot and speaking simple words they had wrote themselves. Some of the poems were about serious matters that left the room silent and almost afraid to give applause and some of the poems were hilarious and had the entire audience laughing. Chicken Hand and I got there early to make sure we got a seat (and food, obviously) and for some ridiculous reason, we were chose to be judges of the poetry stomp. We knew nothing about poetry but we both looked at each other, shrugged, and said ‘Why not?’ That was one quality that I truly appreciated and shared with Chicken Hand. He was always up for anything and he didn’t care what anyone thought about him or what he was doing with his life. It didn’t matter what it was, where it was, or who it was with… Chicken Hand was always game. I can relate to that quality because I am the same way.

Chicken Hand and I were having an amazing time at the poetry stomp. I walked up to the bar to grab a glass of water. I looked up and saw one of the most handsome men that I have seen in my entire life. He was tall, dark, handsome, (someone <me> has a type) with tattoos and the most endearing smile. That was the first time I encountered Hot Bartender. He gave me a glass of water and I walked back over to Chicken Hand and we enjoyed the rest of our evening.

On a random Monday afternoon after Chicken Hand and Cowboy Casanova were distant memories, I heard that one of my favorite bands from high school would be performing at the bar that Chicken Hand and I attended the poetry stomp at. At that point, I had completely forgot about Hot Bartender but my inner teenage fan girl had to go see that band play. That day I got off of work, rushed home, changed my clothes, and hurried down to get a seat at the bar (yes, alone). As soon as I sat down, I looked up and there was Hot Bartender in all his glory. He was better looking than I remembered and what was even better was that he remembered me. I had a great time watching the band play and I chatted with Hot Bartender throughout the night. At the end of the evening he asked me if I had a boyfriend because he remembered me being with another gentleman at the poetry stomp. I told him that I did not have a boyfriend so Hot Bartender asked for my phone number. He was hot. I was single. So I gave him my number.

Hot Bartender text me for a few days and then invited me down to his work that weekend. He was getting off of work early on Saturday and he wanted to grab a drink and then go grab a bite to eat after. It sounded fun so I agreed. That weekend I headed down to his bar. He got off of work early as planned and we sat down for a drink. Hot bartender seemed really nervous which was adorable. Even though I had met him a couple of times, he was really hot and had been very charming so I was nervous too. Everything went very well for the first five minutes. Then within the first thirty minutes of us sitting down talking I realized that Hot Bartender had done six shots of whiskey and chugged three beers. As impressed as I was at his ability to hold his liquor, this wasn’t my ideal behavior for a first date. I was trying to make the best of things and give Hot Bartender the benefit of the doubt that he was just nervous and that he was trying to calm his nerves with alcohol. However, once his speech started to slur I knew that things were only going to go downhill from there. Even though Hot Bartender was on the fast track to being intoxicated, I was still trying to give Hot Bartender and this date a fair chance. I was attempting to carry on a conversation with him by asking him questions about himself. Within minutes of me asking a few questions, Hot Bartender proceeded to start sobbing. I’m not just talking about a few tears you guys. I am talking about inconsolable, couldn’t breathe, talk, or even communicate sobbing. Hot Bartender proceeded to tell me that he used to be a multimillionaire on the East coast but lost everything in the recession. He then moved to Las Vegas to pursue his dream of being a rockstar. He told me that he had a legitimate band and they were on the verge of getting signed by a huge record label but nothing had happened quite yet. He continued to cry about his life that he felt was in shambles and the disappointment he had caused his family. He continued to drink more liquor to ease his pain. This had never happened to me before. What do you do when your date starts crying 30 minutes into your date? I felt sorry for the guy. Hot Bartender sobbed for well over an hour. I sat there in complete shock not really knowing how to console an almost 40 year old stranger who was in the middle of a full on emotional break down. Not only were we in a public setting, but it was also his place of employment. At this point in the evening, I was starving, emotionally drained, and I knew that we both needed to go home. I told Hot Bartender that I needed to leave and he said that he needed to go too. I begged him to let me call him a cab and told him I would pay for it, but he refused. I asked for help from his coworkers who saw the state he was in but they told me not to even bother. They said that Hot Bartender was not going to listen to any of us and that this level of intoxication was a nightly occurrence for him. He insisted on driving home himself and it became apparent to me that no one was going to stop him from doing so. Regardless of how bad our date had gone I was still worried about him. I decided that I would follow him home to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone or himself. As I followed at a safe distance behind him, I noticed him pulling off the freeway. I followed him off the freeway and as soon as he got off of the freeway I watched him pull into the parking lot of the first bar he saw. It was clear that there was nothing I could do to help this guy so I continued driving and went straight home. I decided right then that would be the last time that I spoke to Hot Bartender.

Hot Bartender drunk text me a couple times after that. After I didn’t respond to his text messages he got the memo fairly quickly. I felt bad for Hot Bartender. I know exactly what it feels like to have your life in shambles. However, his behavior on our first date wasn’t something I was willing to overlook or ignore. Especially after his coworkers informed me that level of intoxication was a nightly occurrence for him.

When I got home, I did what any sane, rational, intelligent, normal, regular woman would do… I put on my FBI hat and started googling Hot Bartender to fact check what he had told me about himself that evening. Everything he told me about himself pretty much checked out… except one thing. He was not in a band that was on the verge of getting a record deal. He was in local band with one homemade music video on YouTube that had a total of 150 views.

Within two weeks I had gone from going on a date with an A-List celebrity to going on a date with a D-List celebrity.

xoxox,
Ally

PS If you click the “Follow” button on my home page, it will prompt you for your email address. By submitting it, you will receive an email each time I post a blog entry. Your email address will never be sold to a third party and the only emails you will ever receive from me are updates each time I post a blog entry. 😉

Follow me!

Facebook:

Blog: https://www.facebook.com/SwipedOutLV/

Personal: https://www.facebook.com/AllysonStagg

Instagram:

Blog: @SwipedOutLV

Personal: @AllyStagg

Twitter: @SwipedOutLV

Email: SwipedOutLV@gmail.com

 

 

The best email ever and VERY EXCITING NEWS!

I want to start off by saying that my mother hadn’t read my Abercrombie and Bitch blog post yet, so I read it to her at my family dinner tonight. My mother was in tears laughing so hard because my recollection of the events were so accurate… even down to my description of my parents behavior on National Middle Child Day. It’s all true. So, there’s that.

Anyway…

Last week , I received my favorite email to date. It read:

Hey there Miss Ally,

No hurt feelings if you don’t remember me, we went to high school together and my maiden name was Sam ______. I’m sitting here at work on a Sunday procrastinating basically everything in life when I decided to reactivate my Facebook for a quick second to pull some old pictures. Once activated I decided to throw caution to the wind and see what’s new on the old Facebook feed. First thing that came up was your blog post, so I followed the link to put off work just a couple minutes longer.
I am emailing you now to tell you I LOVED IT!! I don’t have or keep track of social media and I am horrible at staying in contact with any of the wonderful people we went to school with but I felt the need to email you and tell you that you are amazing!!! You truly are a wonderful story teller! I hope one day a high powered exec from HBO stumbles across your blog posts and makes them into a show (Game of Thrones only has two more seasons so they will have a time slot open).
I also wanted to applaud you on being strong women! It takes courage to put yourself out there and share your stories with others, especially stories about love and heartbreak. You are brilliant and hilarious and I will for sure be checking in on your blog as a means to procrastinate work in the future!!
Keep kicking ass at life girl!! I have a feeling the sky is the limit for you!!

Best of Wishes!
Sam

First of all, SWOON!

  1. Thank you Sam. Your kind words really do mean the world to me. I am beyond flattered that you would procrastinate work and take the time to read my silly blog.
  2. Of course I remember who you are! 😉
  3. Again, thank you SO much. I spend more time than I probably should on my posts because I really want to paint a picture for you guys whether it is setting the scene for something funny that is about to occur, or setting the tone for a certain emotion that I want you guys to feel. When I wrote about Chelsea’s date, I had to do a lot of setting up for you guys really to appreciate how hilarious it was that she went totally crazy on her fourth date with Dr. Tony when everything else had been so normal between them. Then, when I was writing about Poodle, I really felt the need to clearly express my undeniable, once in a lifetime chemistry and love for Poodle. That way, when I described the catastrophic heartbreak I felt from our breakup, you would understand why I have spent the past two years of my life mourning the loss of Poodle and Ally and unknowingly sabotaging any potential relationship that came along because of my heartbreak. It was imperative that you guys felt how real and raw that emotion was for me. I’m so happy to hear that my story telling paints a picture for you guys because that is exactly what I’m trying to do.
  4. I am so happy you said that. I am also hoping that my blog graces the laptop screen of an HBO executive and they want to turn it into a show. If any of you know someone at HBO, send them my way. I actually get a lot of emails asking what my next step is and to be honest with you… I’m not sure. Podcast? YouTube channel? Reality show? Sitcom? Book? What do you guys think? What would you like to see next? Email me and let me know (SwipedOutLV@gmail.com) If you guys like my blog now, stay tuned. I have plenty more amazing stories where those came from. We haven’t even touched the tip of the iceberg yet.
  5. Thank you. I don’t look at myself as any stronger than anyone else out there. I simply don’t mind making fun of myself or showing my vulnerable side. I’m just a regular girl who is going through regular things that all of us go through and I just so happen to write about them.
  6. Thank you again for you kind words Sam. I hope that you are right and that the sky is the limit for me. I also hope you keep your promise to keep following my blog even if you are disconnected from all social media. 🙂

I know that I turn everything in my life into a joke. I don’t have to try very hard because everything in my life kind of is a joke, but I really do appreciate the love and support that I have received from every single one of you over the past few weeks. Whether it is you asking me questions, sending me both positive and negative feedback, or simply just reading my blog, thank you from the bottom of my heart. The kind words that you guys have sent to me honestly mean the world to me. I cannot emphasize enough how taken back I am by the response. Three weeks ago, I had a shitty week, wrote a blog to vent about it that I thought maybe five people max would read, and now three weeks later I have thousands of hits per day to my website and hundreds of emails. I love hearing feed back from you guys and I love all of your questions as well. If you can’t tell by the content of my blog, I don’t get embarrassed easily. I’m an open book. With that being said, I have some amazing news… Because of my readers out there, my blog has been picked up and I am now being PAID to write for you guys! You will see a new, updated, and easier to navigate website start to blossom over the next few months. I’m in collaboration with some brilliant people who are going to help me make this blog beyond amazing for you guys. This also means that you are promised four blog posts minimum from me per week!

If I would have known that I could get paid to write about my ridiculous life stories, I would have started this blog years ago.

xoxox,
Ally

PS If you click the “Follow” button on my home page, it will prompt you for your email address. By submitting it, you will receive an email each time I post a blog entry. Your email address will never be sold to a third party and the only emails you will ever receive from me are updates each time I post a blog entry. 😉

Follow me!

Facebook:

Blog: https://www.facebook.com/SwipedOutLV/

Personal: https://www.facebook.com/AllysonStagg

Instagram:

Blog: @SwipedOutLV

Personal: @AllyStagg

Twitter: @SwipedOutLV

Email: SwipedOutLV@gmail.com

 

Abercrombie and Bitch

Today my sister tagged me in a meme that reminded me of something that happened when I was 12 years old. Since it is #fbf (Flashback Friday) I want to share this story with you guys. It has nothing to do with my online dating nightmares, but I figured it might give you perspective into the the bullshit that I had to deal with growing up that molded me into the person I am today.

In my family, I am the second to youngest out of four children aka I’m a middle child. I have an older sister, an older brother, and one younger brother. I would like to start off by saying that now, I get along great with all of my siblings. We text almost daily and I love them all dearly. However, things were not always this peachy and I have never been the favorite child to our parents.

For example, a couple years ago on National Middle Child day (Yes… that really is a holiday. August 12th to be exact) my parents flew all the way up to Salt Lake City where my sister lives and took her (the oldest child) out for a nice lunch. After that, they Facetimed my little brother (their youngest child) because he was in Greece and they wanted to tell him how much they loved and missed him. Later that night I called my parents (just to clarify… they DID NOT call me… I called them) and they proceeded to ask if their house had burned down yet and then told me to take their trash out to the curb. HAPPY NATIONAL MIDDLE CHILD DAY TO ME!!!!

Back to my original story…

Being 4 1/2 years younger than my sister (who I am going to call Brittany because that is her real name and she’s my only sister so there is absolutely no reason to hide her identity because literally everyone knows who she is *breathes*) I was nothing more than an annoying little sister that she was forced to deal with growing up. All I ever wanted to do was be her friend, hang out with her, and make her happy. Wait a second… I’m seeing a pattern here. I’ve done that in most of my adult romantic relationships too. Food for thought. Anyway, my sister was one of those girls that every girl wanted to be and that every guy wanted to date. She was tall, beautiful, social, a cheerleader, homecoming queen, class president, valedictorian, and ridiculously popular. She had an awesome job working at the hip smoothie shop where all of the cool kids hung out after school. She drove a brand new cherry red Mitsubishi Spyder Eclipse and she was always dressed in the cutest and most trendy clothes. She bought all of her clothes from Contempo Casuals and Abercrombie and Fitch which were THE places to shop back then. Being nothing more than a bother and an annoying little sister to her, I was forbidden from touching her car and speaking to her friends or her boyfriend (who was a hunk that worked part time at Abercrombie and Fitch.) However, her number one rule was that I was not allowed to touch, look at, or even breathe near her clothes. Typical older sister vs younger sister rules, right?

My sister was a junior in high school and I was only in middle school so she left for school a couple of hours before I did. One day when I was 12 years old, I made a bold move. I snuck into my sisters room after she left for school and took an adorable flannel button up shirt from Abercrombie and Fitch off a hanger and I put it on. My sister had SO many clothes. There was no way that she could possibly notice that it was gone. She usually had things to do after school like go to work or she would go hang out with her boyfriend and friends. I was certain that I could wear the shirt to school and then have it back on the hanger in my sisters closet before came home and noticed that it was gone. I even went as far as to leave the hanger in the same spot she had put it in her closet to mark where the shirt had been and I memorized how many buttons were buttoned up. I wanted to be sure that I put it back exactly how I found it.

I proudly wore my sisters plaid Abercrombie and Fitch shirt to school.

I’m not going to lie, even though I knew my sister was at school, I was a little nervous. I was looking over my shoulder every two seconds to make sure my sister or one of her friends weren’t following me. Knowing my sister, she might have had secret GPS trackers on her clothes. Once I made it through lunch without getting caught, I let go of my fear and worry and enjoyed the rest of my day sporting my denim mini skirt, Converse, and my sisters plaid button up Abercrombie and Fitch shirt.

A couple hours later I was in 5th period History learning about the Allies and the Axis of WWII when our classroom door opened. We all whipped around to see who it was… and there stood my older sister Brittany. I knew exactly why she was there. She gestured for me to follow her. My teacher tried to stop me but I just shook my head “no” to him. I was far more terrified of my sister than I was of my teacher, principal, or even detention. My sister looked at me with disgust and said “Take.it.off.” I said “But I don’t have anything underneath my shirt!” My sister was so mad that I’m certain she was ready to tell me that she couldn’t care less if I didn’t have anything on underneath. She was definitely angry enough to make me walk around topless for the rest of the day but I was only 12 years old and that would have been illegal. We lived down the street from my school, so I thought that my sister was going to go home to get me something else to put on but she had a better idea. She asked me where my locker was. I showed her and she demanded that I open it. She started digging through my locker and discovered the most hideous sweatshirt on the face of this earth. It was royal blue fleece with a huge collar and it had a massive black plastic zipper. It was AWFUL. The only reason I even had it in my locker was as a last resort if it happened to be cold outside in my PE (Physical Education) class and I was desperate for a sweatshirt. Even then, I probably would have rather froze than be caught dead wearing that hideous thing. I was never popular like my sister so I tried to do anything to lay low and keep any unwanted attention off me. Wearing this horrendous sweatshirt was not going to help me fly under the radar.

My sister walked me back to my class, opened the door, shoved me back inside and then slammed the door shut. Everyone in my class started whispering to one another and pointing at me. I bet that only 5% of those whispers were about my ugly sweatshirt. The other 95% were probably about the big scene my sister had caused. I only had a little over an hour left of school, but it seemed like it took an eternity to get through. After school, I skipped my cheerleading practice and went home to cry. I was praying that my sister would not be home and luckily she was nowhere to be found. My parents came home from work a couple hours later and they could tell I had been crying but I refused to tell them what was wrong. My sister had threatened my life if I told our parents what she did to me that day. I have kept my mouth shut about this for two decades but it’s time to let my parents know. That’s right. I’m a 30 something year old tattletale telling my mommy and daddy what my older sister did to me 20 years ago.

That was the day that I realized that my older sister was nothing more than an Abercrombie and Bitch.

And then I grew up to be exactly like her.

559753_658967850781469_554822796_n

xoxox,
Ally

PS If you click the “Follow” button on my home page, it will prompt you for your email address. By submitting it, you will receive an email each time I post a blog entry. Your email address will never be sold to a third party and the only emails you will ever receive from me are updates each time I post a blog entry. 😉

Follow me!

Facebook:

Blog: https://www.facebook.com/SwipedOutLV/

Personal: https://www.facebook.com/AllysonStagg

Instagram:

Blog: @SwipedOutLV

Personal: @AllyStagg

Twitter: @SwipedOutLV

Email: SwipedOutLV@gmail.com

 

Sex and Sin City (Q and A Week 3)

Here are a few more Q and A’s from some of my favorite people… you guys!

Q: Who is Cowboy Casanova?

A: You guys! I can’t tell you. Everyone in my blog remains anonymous. How am I ever going to negotiate a book deal if I tell you guys EVERYTHING right now?!? 😉

Q: What is your favorite type of cereal?

A: French Toast Crunch. Nothing else even comes close.

Q: Are you a natural blonde?

A: Nope. This blonde bobble head is created with a lot of bleach and several pounds of weave compliments of my boo Kate Sibley at Pigtails and Pompadours salon here in Las Vegas.

Q: Where does Seaman live?

A: I’m not telling you guys! I la-la-love that I have readers that are almost as nosy as I am 😉

Q: Why do you have so many grammatical and spelling errors in your blog?

A: I have so many grammatical and spelling errors in my blog because I am nothing more than an uneducated blonde idiot. I also have a lot of grammatical and spelling errors in my blog because I am human and I make mistakes. I am a single mother with an eight year old son and two year old little girl that I am fostering and going through the adoption process with. Both children have several different activities that they are involved in that I have to tote them around to. I also work full time and go to school part time. My days are hectic and completely full from sunrise to sunset. I usually don’t get a chance to sit down and write my posts until late at night after my kids go to bed. When I write each entry I sit down and write about what I am feeling at that exact moment. I never plan ahead what I am going to write about because I want the tone and the emotion to be real. I also do not want to over edit my posts seeking grammatical perfection and lose the feeling and rawness of what I originally wrote. I proofread my entries as thoroughly as I can, but after a while the words start to blur together and my posts start to look like hieroglyphs.  I do my best to fix as many mistakes as I can but occasionally I miss corrections. My friends and family send me screenshots or text me to tell me about mistakes they see when they read it and I go back and edit them as they come along.

Also,  I don’t put too much thought into how many errors there are in my blog because this is just a free wordpress blog, not the New York Times.

Q: Who do you think you are? Carrie Bradshaw?

*looks side to side*

A: Well, Yeah. Actually I kind of do.

If you are (or ever have been) a single woman in your 30’s or 40’s attempting to date, then I can guarantee that you have been Carrie Bradshaw too.

I have seen every episode of Sex and the City. I didn’t catch on to the show while it was on HBO because I was too young to understand what the women were going through. However, now that I am the same age as the characters portrayed in the show, I can very much relate to each character at different points in my life.

Carrie is loyal, witty, surprisingly insightful, clumsy, and loves to make fun of herself. She’s constantly questioning herself as well as her love life and then splashing her social theories all over New York City. Carrie wants a long lasting love so she clings to relationships (maybe even relationships she shouldn’t necessarily cling to) as well as friendships which results in a constant struggle of being dependent and independent. I can personally relate to many of Carrie’s character traits at this point in my life. Especially her love for making fun of herself because making fun of myself is one of my favorite hobbies. Carrie also loves expensive shoes that she probably shouldn’t buy because she can’t really afford them which I can absolutely relate to. *shrugs*

Miranda is career oriented, a rule follower, and very orderly but she still manages to have a soft side. It was interesting to watch her character transform from being solely focused on her career to a much easier going woman. Miranda learned to embrace marriage, motherhood, and other things that I NEVER would have thought her character would have entertained the thought of. I can relate to being focused on your career and then having huge life altering events change your path. Life is constantly shoving us in different directions regardless of our plans. As we grow and mature, the different paths we take  (or are shoved onto) change our life views as well as our priorities. The key to us learning and growing is to roll with the punches and embrace where our lives take us.

Samantha is a hedonist. She oozes confidence and she loves to have fun entertaining men with her sexuality. She avoids anything in life that could potentially be painful and distracts herself with life’s pleasures. She loves variety. The fact that she can change and control everything in her life is very appealing to her and makes it hard for her to grasp the thought of settling down with one man. Although Samantha is a gorgeous, confident, and powerful woman, you can tell that she has a vulnerable side. Much like Samantha, I am confident and comfortable with myself and my sexuality. I can also relate to avoiding situations, self sabotaging, and running away from feelings because I am terrified of having my heart broken again.

Charlotte is obsessed with finding the perfect love, getting married, having the perfect family and being the perfect wife. She is superficial and cares far too much about a mans financial and social status. Charlotte is somewhat of a chameleon. She spends a lot of time changing who she is in order to please what she thinks a man would value in a woman instead of staying true to herself and what she wants. She’s refined, classic, and feminine, but also a little selfish. She eventually learns to look beyond physical appearances and finds a man that can satisfy her deep emotional needs. I can certainly relate to changing who I am to try and be everything that my significant other wanted. Looking back, I really regret doing that. No matter what I changed, I still wasn’t enough. It gave me “What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you love me? Why am I not enough?” syndrome. I have definitely accepted the fact that there isn’t anything that I could have done to be “good enough” in the eyes of some people that I have dated. I have also learned and accepted that is a THEM problem. Not a ME problem.

So to answer your questions, yes. I do think that I am similar to Carrie Bradshaw. I also think that I am similar to Miranda Hobbs, Samantha Jones, and Charlotte York. My friend Jenni and I were talking about this topic a couple of weeks ago. What most women fail to realize is that it is not about being “the Carrie” or “the Miranda.” Sex and the City is about four completely different chararacters that all woman can relate to in one way or another at different points in their lives. We all have a tiny piece of each character inside of us and coincide with them at different times in each of our lives. I will take you comparing me to Carrie Bradshaw as a compliment. Sex and the City is a phenomenal show that is real, relatable, beautifully written, and had a brilliant cast who fully engulfed what each character was written to represent.

However, if this question was a passive aggressive way of you implying that my blog is a cheap knock off of Sex and the City, I can assure you that it’s not. Besides, if I really were trying to recreate a D-List version of Sex and the City through a free wordpress blog, I would have been far more cliche about it and named my blog something ridiculous like “Sex and Sin City.”

Thanks for the question, hun!

On that note, I’m excited to be adding a new weekly addition to my blog.

A week ago, Seaman asked for my address so that he could have a book sent to me. I gave him my address and asked him what book it was and he said “The first rule of book club is: you do not talk about book club” Clever, I know. It made me giggle. I am already in trouble with Seaman because I have talked about book club with everyone I’ve encountered over the past week. On top of being incredibly nosy, I also have a big mouth. Hence my blog that you are currently reading where I pour my heart and soul out into the universe for complete strangers to read. I don’t think Seaman reads my blog because he’s still talking to me, so we are safe to talk about book club here without him giving me anymore shit about my big mouth. 😉 Seaman informed me that he and I are going to do a virtual book club. We’re going to read the book together from our different states and then discuss our thoughts and opinions on the book as we go. I was SO EXCITED when I found out what book he chose for us to start with.

aziz-ansari_modern-romance_garance-dore-770x537

I love Aziz’s stand up comedy. (Go YouTube Aziz Ansari- Sheets. You’re welcome) I can’t wait to read this book. Each week, I’m going to write my feelings and opinions about what I read that week. This should be a fun adventure so if you would like to follow along, pick up a copy of the book and join in on our virtual book club. I’d love to hear about all of your different perspectives as well. Chapter one starts next week so get to Barnes and Noble or hop on Amazon Prime and order your copy ASAP.

xoxox,
Ally

PS If you click the “Follow” button on my home page, it will prompt you for your email address. By submitting it, you will receive an email each time I post a blog entry. Your email address will never be sold to a third party and the only emails you will ever receive from me are updates each time I post a blog entry. 😉

Follow me!

Facebook:

Blog: https://www.facebook.com/SwipedOutLV/

Personal: https://www.facebook.com/AllysonStagg

Instagram:

Blog: @SwipedOutLV

Personal: @AllyStagg

Twitter: @SwipedOutLV

Email: SwipedOutLV@gmail.com

 

Cowboy Casanova

A couple of weeks after Chicken Hand and I went our separate ways, I was sitting at home one Saturday afternoon when I received a phone call from a friend of mine that I hadn’t spoke to in quite a while asking me what I was doing that evening. My first instinct was to tell her that I had plans because getting ready seemed like a lot of work, but when I looked down at my unshowered self still in my pajamas, eating honey roasted peanuts, and binge watching crime TV all alone at 2:00pm, I realized I couldn’t even justify lying about being busy so I told her I didn’t have any plans. She proceeded to tell me that she had an extra front row ticket and backstage pass to a big country concert that evening because one of her other friends had a family emergency and wasn’t able to go so she offered the ticket to me. It sounded fun so I turned off the TV and went to go get ready.

Later that evening, I met the girls down at the venue for the concert. We were in the front row and we had an amazing time. The headlining musician who I’m going to refer to as Cowboy Casanova was an A-list country star. The entire concert was awesome, but he really put on a great show. I had to teach a Zumba class the next morning so I was taking it easy but the girls that I was at the concert with were far more vocal (and intoxicated) than I was. They were screaming at and cat calling Cowboy Casanova like 14 year old fan girls.

After the concert I was exhausted and knew that I had to wake up early, but we had backstage passes so I stuck around. We were escorted backstage and waited in a small line to meet Cowboy Casanova. When we got to the front, all of the girls were drooling over him and fighting one another to get photographs with him. I could have cared less about taking a picture with him so I designated myself as the photographer. I snapped what felt like hundreds of photos of my friends with Cowboy Casanova. While I was taking the pictures, Cowboy Casanova kept asking me if I was going to jump into any of the photos. I told him “No” and continued snapping pictures with the 16 different iPhone cameras I was given. After declining several offers from Cowboy Casanova to hop into some of the photographs, he looked at my girlfriends and said “Why won’t your friend get in any of the pictures? She’s gorgeous.” I ignored him and kept snapping photos then he said “Just look at her. Even the way she stands to take pictures is cute.” All of my friends were swooning over the fact that he called me gorgeous, but I’m no fool. I knew he didn’t think I was anything special. I knew that he just couldn’t believe that I wasn’t falling all over myself to take a picture with him. We thanked him for his time and we started to head out. Before we could exit, one of the security guards stopped me and told me he had to talk to me. I was terrified. I was quickly reviewing all of my actions from the past few hours wondering what I did wrong, but I was sober and for literally the first time in my entire life I couldn’t think of anything stupid or illegal that I had done. The guard led me back to Cowboy Casanova.

Cowboy Casanova smiled coyly at me and told me that he thought I was really pretty. He asked if he could have a photograph with me. I agreed but in the back of my mind I was rolling my eyes knowing very well that this was just a pickup line. The guard took our picture on Cowboy Casanova’s iPhone. I could tell that it was still bothering Cowboy Casanova that I hadn’t asked for a picture with him. He gave me a hug and thanked me for coming back. I said “You’re welcome” and started to walk away when he blurted out “Can I have your phone number?” At this point, I was a little annoyed. I know that you are all thinking that I’m an idiot but I promise I’m not. I knew that this was just a game for him. He couldn’t stand the fact that I was treating him like a normal guy. I grew up in Las Vegas so seeing celebrities is an everyday thing. When I was a waitress, I served Nicolas Cage halibut. When I was a makeup artist, I did Alicia Keys makeup and painted her toenails. One time, I ran into Eva Longoria on a random Wednesday afternoon at the mall. I told her that she had great shoes and we had a lengthy conversation about Christian Louboutin’s latest collection. I saw Kris Bryant getting a haircut at Fantastic Sam’s next door to my house two weeks ago. Celebrity sightings happen all of the time in Las vegas so it isn’t a big deal to me. I don’t see celebrities as superior. They’re just normal people like you and I who happen to make A LOT more money. Anyway, I gave Cowboy Casanova my business card with my cell phone number on it and told him I enjoyed the show. I ran back to find my group of friends.  They were all worried that I was in trouble but once I got back to them and I told them what had just happened, they all started freaking out.

I never heard from Cowboy Casanova and I never gave my encounter with him a second thought… until four weeks later when I was working and received a text message that read:

“Ally?”

I was in the middle of my work day. I didn’t have that phone number saved and I didn’t recognize the area code. I googled the area code but that didn’t give me many answers because it was from a state that I didn’t even personally know anyone from. I responded:

“Yes?”

I waited for what felt like hours for a response because I was beyond curious to know who it was (FYI I am the most nosey person you will ever meet in your life) when finally 45 minutes later I received a response that said:

“Cowboy Casanova.”

My jaw literally dropped to the floor. I had completely forgot about him and our encounter. I text him back and he proceeded to tell me how he couldn’t stop thinking bout me and how he wanted to meet me in person in a more low profile scene so that he could get to know me better. As skeptical as I was about him, I had to admit that I was flattered and it was a tiny bit adorable that he still remembered my name a month later. He asked me what day I was free and he flew back into town the next week to meet me.

It was a weeknight so I arranged for a babysitter. I was still skeptical about Cowboy Casanova and I was trying to keep things as down to earth as possible so I agreed to meet him at a coffee shop at 9:00pm across town. I wore jeans, a t-shirt, and high top Converse because thats who I am and I wanted him to be fully aware of that going into whatever this “date” was. Ironically, I wasn’t even nervous. I drove across town to meet him at the coffee shop that he chose…  but it was closed.  He asked if I wanted to take a walk through the well lit outdoor mall and talk. I agreed. The walk was actually really nice. He grabbed my hand and held it as we strolled through the mall together. He kept telling me how beautiful he thought I was. He opened up about his past relationships and told me how he found his way into the spotlight and became a celebrity. I was starting to feel guilty about how quickly I had judged him. Who was I to judge him? I am literally NO ONE. He was a big time celebrity with enormous talent, the most perfect body you could ever imagine, AND good family values. I was starting to realize what an asshole I had been. I wrote him off immediately just because he was famous. What was worse was the fact that I assumed that he couldn’t possibly be interested in me because I wasn’t famous. Why on earth was I doubting my self worth? I’m awesome. All of the sudden I was determined to listen to every word that he had to say that night. I let my guard down.

After walking around for quite a while, we sat down at the cafe at a local hotel and within seconds, the mood completely changed. Cowboy Casanova went from a simple family man to the most narcissistic guy I have ever met. All he did for the next hour was talk about himself, how great he is, and how admired he is. He kept saying “Do you have any idea how lucky  you are to be sitting with me right now?! Do you feel like you are in a dream?!” I felt like I had just entered the Twilight zone. Did he forget how underwhelmed with him I was the night we met backstage at his concert? Everything was going SO well that night. What happened?!? I wanted to vomit. He kept taking about his prestigious gym that “people like me” weren’t good enough for. That comment made me laugh because in reality, I actually am a member of that exact same gym. It became very clear to me that in his eyes, I was a stupid, poor, little peasant that knew nothing about his superior lifestyle. He kept unbuttoning his shirt to show me his abs (which don’t get me wrong, they were nice) but again, I didn’t care. His body and money didn’t impress me in the least. He then proceeded to talk about how hot and sexy his female trainer at the gym is and how she custom designed his entire meal plan and workout regimen. After that came out of his mouth, I did what any sane, rational, intelligent, normal, regular woman would do… I ordered a hot fudge brownie and a vanilla milkshake with chocolate sauce and whipped cream as my meal just to prove a point. I was counting down the seconds until I could leave. I listened to him go on and on about himself and watched him sip his mint tea between sentences. However, it became clear to me that Cowboy Casanova was going to continue talking about himself until I stopped him. I told him I had to hurry and get home to relieve my babysitter because she had school the next day (lie) and I ran out of the cafe as fast as I could.

For the next few weeks, like clockwork at 3:00am I would receive a (drunk) text or a phone call from Cowboy Casanova every single night asking me “What I would do to him if he showed up at my door right that second.” I continued to ignore his arrogant ass and eventually the phone calls and text massages faded away. Every now and then Cowboy Casanova will still test the waters and I will receive a text message from him checking in on me or letting me know that he’s in town. I ignore him every single time.

And that my friends is how I learned a VERY important life lesson. Boys only want what they can’t have.

 

 

xoxox,
Ally

PS If you click the “Follow” button on my home page, it will prompt you for your email address. By submitting it, you will receive an email each time I post a blog entry. Your email address will never be sold to a third party and the only emails you will ever receive from me are updates each time I post a blog entry. 😉

Follow me!

Facebook:

Blog: https://www.facebook.com/SwipedOutLV/

Personal: https://www.facebook.com/AllysonStagg

Instagram:

Blog: @SwipedOutLV

Personal: @AllyStagg

Twitter: @SwipedOutLV

Email: SwipedOutLV@gmail.com