Dear Matter of Fact Mommy and other lovers of Frank Irwin. I'm sorry. I know you all love him. I know you all dream of the day in which he will be yours. I am sensitive to those feelings, and I truly regret having to break your collective heart, but what's done is done, and I have to let you know. Frank Irwin is mine. He's the yin to my yang, the bi to my cycle. My apologies, but it was written in the stars.
Frank and I both live in Austin, I discovered recently, and being that I'd already broken the seal by meeting MOFM back in April, it seemed like a good idea to meet this dapper fellow, especially given that he likes bikes. Cause I likes bikes, too! So when he floated the idea of meeting up sometime, I said "Okay, Frank Irwin. Meet me at Quack's Bakery at 3pm on Friday. I'll be the unbearably attractive brunette in the corner. You'll recognize me by my acres and acres of bouncy beautiful hair, and also the fact that the air around me seems to be sparkling, though you can't exactly figure out why." But how was I to know which of the many good looking men who come through Quack's would be Frank Irwin? I wrote to him with instructions. "Will you please bring a book of poetry and a pink carnation so I can recognize you when you come in?" In all honesty, I was joking, but guess what Frank showed up with this afternoon:
What, can't you see the title of that charming little book? Here's a closer look:
Yes, that would be a book of dirty limericks, and it's a good thing he brought it with him, because before Frank Irwin showed up I was sitting there wondering which guy would be Frank Irwin. What on earth would Frank Irwin look like? I started to get nervous when a deeply creepy gentleman in a muu-muu and ladies' slacks came in and started looking about him as if he were looking for somebody. Oh, no! I thought. That must be Frank Irwin and he's so creepy! Keep your head down, Cheasty, maybe he won't see you! After a few moments of dead panic, I was relieved to see Deeply Creepy moving on out. Oh, sigh of relief. Frank, it turns out, is not deeply creepy. Rather, he is very nice, beardedly handsome, and charming, though his taste in poetry is decidedly low-brow. Here's a sample:
There was a young vampire named Mabel,
Whose periods were long and unstable.
On the night of the full moon
With a rusty old spoon,
She would drink herself under the table.
Or how about this?
There once was a woman named Alice
Who used a dynamite stick as a phallus;
They found her vagina
Up in North Carolina
And the rest of poor Alice in Dallas.
This is one of my favorites:
There once was a dentist named Stone
Who saw all his patients alone.
In a fit of depravity
He filled the wrong cavity,
And my! How his practice has grown!
I laughed my ass off when I sat down to read them just now, and these limericks, plus the fact that Frank Irwin bought me a chocolate cupcake, have cemented my deep and abiding love for Frank Irwin. Ah, that Frank Irwin. He sure does know how to win a girl's heart. :)