Desperately Serving Sarandipity

After Pete & I had our great (& surprising) time at Great America, it was back to business. I had very important tasks to complete at work. Like washing all the coffee mugs, answering the weird looking phone with way too many buttons, and avoiding Pete at all costs.

Not an easy fete when you’re the receptionist. Word.

Why would I avoid poor, old Pete? Poor old, toothpick coaster kissing Pete??

Well, because I was freaking EIGHTEEN years old. I wanted to have fun. Drink beer at the frat house. Smoke pot. (Yup…I went there, many times….mmmmmm!) I wanted to be a kid. And let’s be honest here. I was soooo a kid. So I got back together with my high school boyfriend after breaking up with him the Great America weekend (what a schmooze….he didn’t even notice!!) and pretty much decided Pete was just some nice cupcake making grandpa who dated all the girls who sat at my desk. Done deal.

When Pete couldn’t accept my diagnosis, I decided it was time to get serious up in here.

So I wrote him a note. What? Don’t forget. I was EIGHTEEN.

I thought my note would finalize this crazypants fascination Pete had. Also, I was pretty damn good at notes. I mean, I was right out of high school…where the one thing you learn is how to write (& fold) a note. 

Yeah…apparently not so much. That flew back & smacked me in the face when Pete showed up at the office after reading my note….his eyes were red & his response was loooong. Oh. So. Effing. LONG.

Shit.

I read his reply. Ohhhh boy. Did I feel like a bitch. You could’ve crowned me Ruler of Bitchland right then & there. The crowd would’ve gone wild.  So I did what any embarrassed teenager would’ve done.

I dumped my high school boyfriend & started dating Pete.

And so it began. The epic story that is Sara plus Pete. Pete plus Sara. Pera. Sate. :)

Pete decided to take a baby like myself to a place babies love. A theme park. So we went to Six Flags Great America.

But of course!

I drove because I had a splashy new car. A perfectly turquoise (my favorite color!) Pontiac Sunfire with all the fixin’s. Pete wasn’t impressed with my amazing driving skills. I chalked it up to him being so damn old. 

Our day at Great America was going quite swimmingly. I mean, who could have a bad time at Great America (that’s me….foreshadowing again….I like this writing stuff!)…it’s sooo fun here!!

I was surprised such an old man could have so much fun. He smiled when I smiled, he laughed when I laughed, we liked the same roller coasters. I was surprised his hip didn’t break. 

Then we went on the old school wooden roller coaster. You know the one. It’s the coaster they have to make go backwards because it’s so damn old they didn’t know what an upside down loop-de-loop was back in the dark ages….and backwards is the only way they could ever entice anyone on this hunk of toothpicks. Oh. And did I mention…it was made of WOOD?

Yeah.

We went on that. Pete probably felt one with it. Old fogey. 

But I kind of liked it. It was super tall & smooth & steady & gave me a great view of what was to come. 

Then it happened. 

Right at the top of the first big drop (where I was planning to fake scream just so the old geezer would think I was into this vintage toy), Pete kissed me. 

Our first kiss was on top of this rickity antique excuse for a thrill ride. 

However……it was quite thrilling….and so not anything I’d experienced before.

Huh. Who knew. You really can wipe the dust off something & see it in a new light. 

Alright. I digress. I kid, I kid. :) 

As far as amazing first kisses go, that one pretty much takes the cake.

Until I get one in a hot air balloon….hint, hint, future boyfriend (oh, did I just ruin it??)!

And that was (kind of) the start of Pete + Sara. 

Talk about taking a plunge. 

I was a recent graduate from high school (thank gawd) and about to embark on my idea of the afterlife. Thus…working. I never was a big fan of school. Unless it was art, or English, or skipping out. What? I made truancy a thing in my school. So much so that they hired a liaison police officer to keep tabs, then started issuing citations for missing class. I know. The horror! What fun is high school without a little trip to the pet store at 9am for a new goldfish? Or to the fraternity houses in Milwaukee….just because….hell yeah, I can! 

Anyways, two citations later, and a shiny diploma to boast about (hahaha…showed ‘em, didn’t I?….suckers!), I was done. No more school for this gal. It was on to bigger & better things. 

Bigger & better being the “CITY”….Milwaukee. Which, I know….I know…isn’t New York or Los Angeles, or even Chicago. But after growing up in a village of 3,000 folks….Milwaukee was my Mecca. 

I was told by my parents (who, now I see were just fed up with my rebellious crap) that I needed to find a full time job by July 25th or I was out on the streets. Dramatic, right? Well, not only did I land a job at the largest foreclosure law firm in Wisconsin, I met a boy. Yup. I showed them. Hmmph. 

And here it begins. Got your crackers & mouse ready (the fly comes later…you know, for the shit)?

I met a boy named Pete. 

By boy….I really mean MAN. This dude was OLD school! Old by my high school standards. He was ten years older than I. And I was eighteen. A mere child, if you will..a BABY! (kay…threw that in there for dramatics. Loved it, didn’t ya? Well, get used to it!) I may have been a mere child, but I was no dummy. Also….I was otherwise involved. With my high school boyfriend. Who, wasn’t in high school no mo. Can you tell I have a thing for the older boy? 

Anywho. I digress. Back to Peter. The older boy of the moment.

I met Pete at the law firm I was working at. I was the receptionist (but of course!) and he was the court runner. I was approached one day by this bubbly lady who asked me “have you tried Pete’s cupcake’s yet? he asked me to save one for you”.

Oh. Really? Well. Then.

“Nope…I hadn’t.”

And by that I thought that I hadn’t tried the cute lawyer’s cupcakes. You know….the tall dark & handsome junior attorney from upstairs.

SCORE!!! High school boyfriend say what?!?!

Yeah. It was me saying “what!?!?”. As it wasn’t the cute junior attorney that was offering me his “cupcake” (I liked to think that was in quotes…you know….whatever!).

It was the other Pete in the office. The court runner. The part time court runner. The part time court runner who just not only broke up with but also kicked out of the apartment…..the girl who was training me. 

Yeah. Can you say AWKWARD?  Well I can…..FREAKING EFFING MUTHA OF ALL AWKWARD!

After all those shenanigans I was briefly hated in the office. You know how all that girly poo office politics work. I shat all over the girl code before I even knew it existed. Just like that. SHAT ALL OVER IT. Luckily Pete was quite the casanova. And Lisa, the girl who trained me & Pete’s ex, was quite the beeeeee-yatch. So after everyone thought about it for a mere minute, I divided the office. There was Team Sara & Team Lisa. 

I was soooo rooting for Team Sara. 

And so was Pete.

Dude had his sights set on me. Like a damn bat crossed with a dolphin crossed with an eagle. This kid wasn’t joking around. One day I went out to my car to find it stuffed with Laura Ashley boxes filled with Laura Ashley clothes. 

***SIDE NOTE: I am NOT a Laura Ashley girl. Sheesh. Barf. Oh, and even back then when I was a size “high school skinny” I never could fit into the pants he bought me. Ohhhh….foreshadowing! 

But I was swooned. Come on. A guy fills your car with clothes in pretty, tissue stuffed boxes & you tell me you wouldn’t at least think about it. Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.

SO we went on a date. This Pete the court runner guy & I.

And, me, being the very classy gal I am, I broke up with my then boyfriend….for the weekend. You know….because you never do…know.  :) 

Oh come one. How many cheesey stories start out that way?

Well, let me tell ya, friends. This tale I’m about to tell is…..alright….no…I must be honest here. It’s as cheesy as it comes. In fact…you may want to get some crackers. And a pet mouse to clean up the excess cheese. 

This story you’re about to hear is one that you just can’t make up….I wish it were a fable…something of another’s imagination. Alas. It’s as real as real gets. And that’s freakin’ REAL.

It’s my love story. From beginning to end….and then all the shit after that. 

And that’s a lot of shit. You may want to get a pet fly to clean up the excess….

Nevermind.

Welcome to the last 10 years of my existence.

For better or for worse…..