May 5th, 2009
So it appears there is a bit of confusion out there...
Who is this girl and what does she do? Is she a flight attendant on private jets or a real estate agent? No worries I completely understand the confusion, I ask this same question of myself everyday - who am I, what do I do? I mean who doesn’t? Honestly though I get that my blog is probably just as confusing as my life. If you want I could sit here and write a daily mundane journal of my life like the rest of the population but that’s not why you’re reading it, is it? Besides my life is anything but mundane. If I could I would blog a life that flowed like the delta river out to the sea. One direction, knowing its destination, getting caught every once in a while in a puddle on the side of the bank where it can sit, breath and re-group and perhaps catch some rays but no I am more like the Bermuda Triangle. Water screaming in every which direction, pulling, pushing, diving, jumping, spinning. Yep, that's me. I even have a motto for my life:
'I do a little bit of everything and I am great at every little thing I do'.
(Tucker loves this quote of mine. He swears he’ll put it in one of his movies, but I didn’t coin him with the name ‘Tucker the Talker’ for nothing and so I don’t hold my breath for his words to become a reality but it would be really cool if he did!)
I use to call myself an entrepreneur but on a flight one day with some uber rich male playboys I over heard one of “the girls” tell the boys “I am an entrepreneur”. Wait a second here, did I hear her right? Crap, no wonder I can never get a boy to take my business plan seriously when I ask for his advice and insight. The whole time he's thinking 'so when is this entrepreneur going to stop blabbing and get on her knees?'
Note to self: When asked what I do for a living, for the love of goodness DO NOT say you are an entrepreneur! Simply state 'I am a business developer' - CHECK. That otta solve this problem.
So anyways back to your questions: 'who is this girl?' - Ahhh well if you and me had more time then a blog I could start from the beginning, but the basics are laid out like this: Since the ripe ol' age of 5 I have had a boyfriend. No silly not the same one, many. But I am what you would call an "innocent" or as the boys in high school would say "a locked box" but I suppose being called this in high school outweighs the alternative and so I have remained. Of course I’ve slept with my boyfriends, I am not claiming to be the Virgin Mary, but I don’t sleep around either. Ever since the first grade I have jumped from one boyfriend to the next kinda like a monkey who won't let go of one branch until she, at the very least has the next branch in view. In college I changed majors just as often as boys and now I change jobs just as frequently as I did majors. So please try and keep up, good luck, and if you can will you please fill me in cause I am still lost when it comes to figuring me out?
I use to say there was a one year expiration date and when that expiration got near...watch out! You know kinda like that pint of yogurt in your fridge that says ‘Best Used By...’ well that’s how I view the majority of things in my life, switch up flavors when it gets old. So typically as the ‘Best Used By’ year gets closer I start getting itchy feet, I get bored, eager to check out new sites, new flavors new adventures, change the scene. As a result my picture changes often. The one thing that remains constant in my life is that it is always changing, except for my family & friends of course. They’re more like Twinkies. Hanging out in the back of my cupboard, no expiration, always standing by. There in my weakest moments, satisfaction guaranteed, unconditional and always filled with love. Gotta love’em!
Despite my desire to always switch up my scene the flavor - ie: my boyfriends, typically have a longer “Use by” date. In fact, most of my relationships have been, on average three years. However, I don’t like surprises and I like knowing when the hurtful break-up is going to ensue and so I am usually the one that kicks up my heels and walks away. Now don’t go getting all judge-mental on me, by no means were any of these boys perfect and often times f’up up royally (that is all but one, but even then something was missing and so I said goodbye). I figure why bother? Keep swinging until I can reach the next branch, perhaps this next one can actually hold me.
After my last dreadfully awful relationship that lasted 2 years and 8 months longer then it ever should have ended I decided to finally take a break from boys. Well not boys perse, and I am not switching to girls, but a break from relationships. For the first time in my life I decided to just go out and have fun, date whoever I want and as many as I want, stay away from serious and live vicariously through dating. Re-discover me, what I want in my life rather then what he/they always wanted from me. So here I am a free woman unleashed to do, see, be who I want to be with no one to worry about but me and I must admit it feels fabulous! Now I know the grass is always greener on the other side, but for the first time I think mine actually is so I think I’ll hang here for a bit and as the saying goes “mow my own grass”.
This is how I came to meet Tucker a boy that I... well we... well he... well crap... I have no idea what we are if anything, but whatever it is I like to call it ‘my on-going date’. To sum it up we have fun together and when we are together he acts as if I am the only woman in the room and I feel incredibly sexy when I am with him. I imagine he is very good at making all women feel this way when they are with him. I have no doubt that he is a playboy, but there is an innocence about him, an awkwardness that I find endearing. Now I have never had a relationship with anyone like Tucker. He’s one of the untouchables - the Los Angeles eternal Bachelor. He’s incredibly, sexy, charming, intelligent, wealthy and powerful. I would like to think I will make my match with someone like this and it’s fun to pretend as if me and Tucker are. However, if nothing else I am practical and I have read the book “He’s Just Not That Into You” and so I know that what we have is what we have, nothing more, but nothing less then what it is, fun. After all it’s hard to turn down evenings at the Four Seasons, exotic dinners by candle light at the latest hot spots. Waking up to the sound of the ocean as I lay curled up in the warmth of his arms in his beach house nestled on the hills of Malibu overlooking an unobstructed view of the ocean as I lay in his bed. Not to mention the shopping sprees at Barney’s, massages and dinners with other high net worth makers and shakers, famous actors and the mayor of Los Angeles approaching our table to shake hands with my date. And so a year and a half after meeting Tucker at club Tao in Las Vegas we still meet up about once a month for dinner, good conversation, laughs and spooning. However, my life and dating routine does not revolve around our moments and so I have dated other boys since meeting Tucker and I can happily gloat that Tucker is not my only millionaire.
Another boy I dated for a moment, better described as a summer fling I met on one of my flights. I was called for a last minute flight leaving for Mexico, Chile, Argentina and New York with a final destination in Barcelona Spain. I was told by dispatch that my lead passenger was a world famous soccer player. Well, I played soccer in high school but it is not a sport I follow. Heck, for that matter there aren’t any sports that I follow and so I had no idea what my soccer player looked like as 8 gorgeous men boarded my plane nor in that moment did I care. I was a happy girl, this was going to be a fun trip and so it was.
Moments into the flight one of my gorgeous passengers was making a serious move on me and to be honest I was slightly embarrassed by his forwardness. Toward the end of our first leg after much flirting and intentional ‘accidental’ bumping into he asked me what I would be doing once we got to Chile and if I would like to grab dinner and go out on the town with him and the rest of the boys. I was screaming inside ‘Heck yes!’ but I innocently said ‘sure’ as I handed him my phone number. Who cares who the famous soccer player is, this boy is hot. Later that night as I sat with my pilots in the VIP lounge drinking a glass of wine I got a call from my boy. They’re ready to head to dinner and he wants me to meet them in the lobby of their hotel in an hour.
I flag down a taxi and as my driver pulls into the driveway on their hotel my heartbeat hits overdrive. I walk into the lobby but do not see him. I call his phone, he doesn’t answer. Should I sit in the bar and wait, or in the lounge? Hmmm. I decide instead to be pro-active so I go up to the front desk and ask for his room number. The guy behind the desk stares at me wide eyed and does not respond so I assume he does not understand what I am asking him with my broken spanish. Nevermind, it’s not important, I’ll wait. I wander around for a moment before my boy calls, peeks his head out of a set of double doors and summons me to enter the room. He holds the door open for me and we walk back into the room together. Suddenly my date is surrounded by body guards and flashing cameras. I scoot to the side, not knowing what to do.
Holy Crap! My date IS the world famous soccer player.
You have got to be kidding! How did I not know this?
Dumb question right? But who’s thinking straight in moment like this? No wonder the guy behind the desk just stared at me like I was nuts and said he wouldn’t be listed under his name.
My famous date finishes up his interview and we all pile into a van as the driver starts the engine. There are two vans. Me and my eight gorgeous passengers are in one, we all say hi and kiss each other on the cheek, Eurpopean style - double sided. The other van is loaded with body guards and another body guard sits in the front passenger seat of our van as the two vans head off toward dinner. As we approach our destination up ahead the restaurant is surrounded by the paparazzi, lights flashing, photographers crowding, invading. Before the driver even stops my date is out of the van in a flash, surrounded by a sea of body guards and ushered into the restaurant. I am left to fend for myself. I step out of the van and walk into the maze of flashing lights toward the entry of the restaurant through the throngs of cameras that are popping my personal bubble. I am in a daze and it’s not a result of the flashing lights.
We sit and eat sushi, my date is charming and funny. We laugh as he steals pieces of sushi from my chop sticks as I attempt to take a bite. His body guards have positioned themselves around the table and as the restaurant patrons stare we continue on as if we are the only people in the restaurant. We finish dinner and as we stand to leave and return to the van my dates manager asks me to hang back so that the paparazzi does not get pictures of me and my famous date leaving the restaurant together.
We arrive at the club and the rest of the night continues on like this. Flashing cameras, stares, pointing, crowds, invasion of my bubble and body guards. My date and I are dancing to the beat of the inccessently loud, thumping music. He has great moves. He moves closer and closer, our cheeks touching his lips brushing my neck and cheek. He goes in for the kiss, but I don’t dare. He is my passenger, I must uphold a level of professionalism. Dancing? Sure, why not? Kissing? No way mister. I am a lady after all.
We take a break from the hip grinding and I head for the ladies room. One of the body guards looms over, I assume it’s because he needs to use the restroom but instead he stands guard at the entryway into the ladies room, guarding me as I pee and not allowing anyone else to enter. Now this is something I could get used too! As me and my body guard head back through the club toward our private balcony overlooking the sea of club goers my body guard grabs me and places me in front of him. I prepare myself for the all too familiar act of swimming up stream through a torrent of salty clubbers, but instead there is a clear path in front of me as if Moses has parted the sea. I am in awe as I glide untouched between a trail of body guards that hold the fans at bay. I have become famous by default. Everyone wants a glimpse of the girl who’s dating the worlds most famed and highest paid soccer player.
The trip continues on. Each destination the same; special treatment, jealous stares from beautiful girls dreaming of being in my shoes and wondering how I was the chosen one, cameras, body guards, 3 bedroom suites with champagne and fine chocolates, views of the city. Whisking off in escorted vans, interviews in three different languages and my hot soccer date on TV. It’s all so surreal and as our final destination draws near to where me and my soccer player will part I fight the urge to care that our fling will soon be done and replaced instead with distant moments and memories to be remembered.
However, on our last flight together my soccer player prolongs the enivitable by inviting me to stay with him at his home the two nights I will be in Spain. YES, YES, YES and YES again! I am so excited, but manage to keep my cool as I realize saying goodbye like this will result in the same pain one encounters when pulling the bandage from their wound slowly, inch by inch rather in one quick and final movement. I ignore the thought and instead tell him I have to first check into my hotel in order to avoid the questions from my pilots. Shortly after parting for what I thought would be the last time he picked me up at my hotel and zoomed me away from the hotel in his $80,000 SUV and up the winding cobble stone roads of Barcelona toward his home overlooking the city lights and the stadium where he makes his fortune.
His home is like a fortress minus the mote but just as difficult to penetrate. He pushes buttons and enter codes, watchful cameras blink red lights signaling their ability to watch my every move. I stay near him, the hardness of his body providing unnecessary protection yet welcomed comfort. I have never felt a body like his. Every inch of him is as hard as granite and just as awe inspiring. Damn!
He gives me a tour of his home as any good host would and later that night around 10 p.m. cooks me dinner. Am I in Heaven and if I am can I stay for awhile? As he cooks us dinner I sit on the counter watching him, enjoying the moment and taking it all in so as not to be forgotten. Who knew the boy could cook as well as he played? I thought perfection was left to fairy tales, but here I am witness to a reality that could very much be mistaken for a fairy tale if one did not keep their head about her.
And so we sit and laugh, enjoying the simplicity of the moment. We finish our dinner of fresh pasta and homemade sauce and leave the dishes in the sink for the maids as we head upstairs to unpack. The boy has bought about $10,000 worth of clothes and shoes during his trip so unpacking takes forever. I end up falling asleep only to be awoken hours later by gentle kisses and his strong and perfect arms wrapped around my small body. I snuggle into his warmth, content and quickly slip back to reality for the dreaming is left for when I am awake.
Almost a year later I still hear from the boy occasionally and most recently have begun to look at homes for him to buy here on the West Coast of California as requested. This brings me to where I am today.
Currently I am living in weather always perfect, sun always shinning, water always warm, perfect surf San Diego. Family circumstances brought me here, but before that I was living in an apartment run-a-muck by cockroaches - literally - in a city run-a-muck with wealthy, eternal bachelors. One day I even found one in my shirt, squished against my stomach, a cockroach that is, not a man.
Okay so now you know where I live, but what do I do? When living in Redondo Beach trying whatever I could to make ends meet while never working for anyone but myself I started a luxury yacht concierge business called Mermaid Yacht Services. This is what I did for money when I met Tucker so one evening while eating a plate of blackened Salmon in a candle lit restaurant in Santa Monica Tucker suggested that I do my concierge business on private jets. Tucker's insight is what led me to learn more about the private jet world. So here I am a flight attendant on private jets learning about the business and gathering research, insight and networking as I develop my business plan - I am a business developer after all. You see Tucker flies private and as we sat across from one another, me mesmerized, him working his charm he suggested I do my business on private jets as it would yield more money. Besides it really does make sense since the majority of private fliers are also luxury yacht owners and so it all began. The real estate happened by default. My father is a broker in San Diego and since I was now living here and have my license it just sort of happened. There in lies the answer to the questions - ‘what in the heck does this girl do and who is she?’
So it appears there is a bit of confusion out there...
Who is this girl and what does she do? Is she a flight attendant on private jets or a real estate agent? No worries I completely understand the confusion, I ask this same question of myself everyday - who am I, what do I do? I mean who doesn’t? Honestly though I get that my blog is probably just as confusing as my life. If you want I could sit here and write a daily mundane journal of my life like the rest of the population but that’s not why you’re reading it, is it? Besides my life is anything but mundane. If I could I would blog a life that flowed like the delta river out to the sea. One direction, knowing its destination, getting caught every once in a while in a puddle on the side of the bank where it can sit, breath and re-group and perhaps catch some rays but no I am more like the Bermuda Triangle. Water screaming in every which direction, pulling, pushing, diving, jumping, spinning. Yep, that's me. I even have a motto for my life:
'I do a little bit of everything and I am great at every little thing I do'.
(Tucker loves this quote of mine. He swears he’ll put it in one of his movies, but I didn’t coin him with the name ‘Tucker the Talker’ for nothing and so I don’t hold my breath for his words to become a reality but it would be really cool if he did!)
I use to call myself an entrepreneur but on a flight one day with some uber rich male playboys I over heard one of “the girls” tell the boys “I am an entrepreneur”. Wait a second here, did I hear her right? Crap, no wonder I can never get a boy to take my business plan seriously when I ask for his advice and insight. The whole time he's thinking 'so when is this entrepreneur going to stop blabbing and get on her knees?'
Note to self: When asked what I do for a living, for the love of goodness DO NOT say you are an entrepreneur! Simply state 'I am a business developer' - CHECK. That otta solve this problem.
So anyways back to your questions: 'who is this girl?' - Ahhh well if you and me had more time then a blog I could start from the beginning, but the basics are laid out like this: Since the ripe ol' age of 5 I have had a boyfriend. No silly not the same one, many. But I am what you would call an "innocent" or as the boys in high school would say "a locked box" but I suppose being called this in high school outweighs the alternative and so I have remained. Of course I’ve slept with my boyfriends, I am not claiming to be the Virgin Mary, but I don’t sleep around either. Ever since the first grade I have jumped from one boyfriend to the next kinda like a monkey who won't let go of one branch until she, at the very least has the next branch in view. In college I changed majors just as often as boys and now I change jobs just as frequently as I did majors. So please try and keep up, good luck, and if you can will you please fill me in cause I am still lost when it comes to figuring me out?
I use to say there was a one year expiration date and when that expiration got near...watch out! You know kinda like that pint of yogurt in your fridge that says ‘Best Used By...’ well that’s how I view the majority of things in my life, switch up flavors when it gets old. So typically as the ‘Best Used By’ year gets closer I start getting itchy feet, I get bored, eager to check out new sites, new flavors new adventures, change the scene. As a result my picture changes often. The one thing that remains constant in my life is that it is always changing, except for my family & friends of course. They’re more like Twinkies. Hanging out in the back of my cupboard, no expiration, always standing by. There in my weakest moments, satisfaction guaranteed, unconditional and always filled with love. Gotta love’em!
Despite my desire to always switch up my scene the flavor - ie: my boyfriends, typically have a longer “Use by” date. In fact, most of my relationships have been, on average three years. However, I don’t like surprises and I like knowing when the hurtful break-up is going to ensue and so I am usually the one that kicks up my heels and walks away. Now don’t go getting all judge-mental on me, by no means were any of these boys perfect and often times f’up up royally (that is all but one, but even then something was missing and so I said goodbye). I figure why bother? Keep swinging until I can reach the next branch, perhaps this next one can actually hold me.
After my last dreadfully awful relationship that lasted 2 years and 8 months longer then it ever should have ended I decided to finally take a break from boys. Well not boys perse, and I am not switching to girls, but a break from relationships. For the first time in my life I decided to just go out and have fun, date whoever I want and as many as I want, stay away from serious and live vicariously through dating. Re-discover me, what I want in my life rather then what he/they always wanted from me. So here I am a free woman unleashed to do, see, be who I want to be with no one to worry about but me and I must admit it feels fabulous! Now I know the grass is always greener on the other side, but for the first time I think mine actually is so I think I’ll hang here for a bit and as the saying goes “mow my own grass”.
This is how I came to meet Tucker a boy that I... well we... well he... well crap... I have no idea what we are if anything, but whatever it is I like to call it ‘my on-going date’. To sum it up we have fun together and when we are together he acts as if I am the only woman in the room and I feel incredibly sexy when I am with him. I imagine he is very good at making all women feel this way when they are with him. I have no doubt that he is a playboy, but there is an innocence about him, an awkwardness that I find endearing. Now I have never had a relationship with anyone like Tucker. He’s one of the untouchables - the Los Angeles eternal Bachelor. He’s incredibly, sexy, charming, intelligent, wealthy and powerful. I would like to think I will make my match with someone like this and it’s fun to pretend as if me and Tucker are. However, if nothing else I am practical and I have read the book “He’s Just Not That Into You” and so I know that what we have is what we have, nothing more, but nothing less then what it is, fun. After all it’s hard to turn down evenings at the Four Seasons, exotic dinners by candle light at the latest hot spots. Waking up to the sound of the ocean as I lay curled up in the warmth of his arms in his beach house nestled on the hills of Malibu overlooking an unobstructed view of the ocean as I lay in his bed. Not to mention the shopping sprees at Barney’s, massages and dinners with other high net worth makers and shakers, famous actors and the mayor of Los Angeles approaching our table to shake hands with my date. And so a year and a half after meeting Tucker at club Tao in Las Vegas we still meet up about once a month for dinner, good conversation, laughs and spooning. However, my life and dating routine does not revolve around our moments and so I have dated other boys since meeting Tucker and I can happily gloat that Tucker is not my only millionaire.
Another boy I dated for a moment, better described as a summer fling I met on one of my flights. I was called for a last minute flight leaving for Mexico, Chile, Argentina and New York with a final destination in Barcelona Spain. I was told by dispatch that my lead passenger was a world famous soccer player. Well, I played soccer in high school but it is not a sport I follow. Heck, for that matter there aren’t any sports that I follow and so I had no idea what my soccer player looked like as 8 gorgeous men boarded my plane nor in that moment did I care. I was a happy girl, this was going to be a fun trip and so it was.
Moments into the flight one of my gorgeous passengers was making a serious move on me and to be honest I was slightly embarrassed by his forwardness. Toward the end of our first leg after much flirting and intentional ‘accidental’ bumping into he asked me what I would be doing once we got to Chile and if I would like to grab dinner and go out on the town with him and the rest of the boys. I was screaming inside ‘Heck yes!’ but I innocently said ‘sure’ as I handed him my phone number. Who cares who the famous soccer player is, this boy is hot. Later that night as I sat with my pilots in the VIP lounge drinking a glass of wine I got a call from my boy. They’re ready to head to dinner and he wants me to meet them in the lobby of their hotel in an hour.
I flag down a taxi and as my driver pulls into the driveway on their hotel my heartbeat hits overdrive. I walk into the lobby but do not see him. I call his phone, he doesn’t answer. Should I sit in the bar and wait, or in the lounge? Hmmm. I decide instead to be pro-active so I go up to the front desk and ask for his room number. The guy behind the desk stares at me wide eyed and does not respond so I assume he does not understand what I am asking him with my broken spanish. Nevermind, it’s not important, I’ll wait. I wander around for a moment before my boy calls, peeks his head out of a set of double doors and summons me to enter the room. He holds the door open for me and we walk back into the room together. Suddenly my date is surrounded by body guards and flashing cameras. I scoot to the side, not knowing what to do.
Holy Crap! My date IS the world famous soccer player.
You have got to be kidding! How did I not know this?
Dumb question right? But who’s thinking straight in moment like this? No wonder the guy behind the desk just stared at me like I was nuts and said he wouldn’t be listed under his name.
My famous date finishes up his interview and we all pile into a van as the driver starts the engine. There are two vans. Me and my eight gorgeous passengers are in one, we all say hi and kiss each other on the cheek, Eurpopean style - double sided. The other van is loaded with body guards and another body guard sits in the front passenger seat of our van as the two vans head off toward dinner. As we approach our destination up ahead the restaurant is surrounded by the paparazzi, lights flashing, photographers crowding, invading. Before the driver even stops my date is out of the van in a flash, surrounded by a sea of body guards and ushered into the restaurant. I am left to fend for myself. I step out of the van and walk into the maze of flashing lights toward the entry of the restaurant through the throngs of cameras that are popping my personal bubble. I am in a daze and it’s not a result of the flashing lights.
We sit and eat sushi, my date is charming and funny. We laugh as he steals pieces of sushi from my chop sticks as I attempt to take a bite. His body guards have positioned themselves around the table and as the restaurant patrons stare we continue on as if we are the only people in the restaurant. We finish dinner and as we stand to leave and return to the van my dates manager asks me to hang back so that the paparazzi does not get pictures of me and my famous date leaving the restaurant together.
We arrive at the club and the rest of the night continues on like this. Flashing cameras, stares, pointing, crowds, invasion of my bubble and body guards. My date and I are dancing to the beat of the inccessently loud, thumping music. He has great moves. He moves closer and closer, our cheeks touching his lips brushing my neck and cheek. He goes in for the kiss, but I don’t dare. He is my passenger, I must uphold a level of professionalism. Dancing? Sure, why not? Kissing? No way mister. I am a lady after all.
We take a break from the hip grinding and I head for the ladies room. One of the body guards looms over, I assume it’s because he needs to use the restroom but instead he stands guard at the entryway into the ladies room, guarding me as I pee and not allowing anyone else to enter. Now this is something I could get used too! As me and my body guard head back through the club toward our private balcony overlooking the sea of club goers my body guard grabs me and places me in front of him. I prepare myself for the all too familiar act of swimming up stream through a torrent of salty clubbers, but instead there is a clear path in front of me as if Moses has parted the sea. I am in awe as I glide untouched between a trail of body guards that hold the fans at bay. I have become famous by default. Everyone wants a glimpse of the girl who’s dating the worlds most famed and highest paid soccer player.
The trip continues on. Each destination the same; special treatment, jealous stares from beautiful girls dreaming of being in my shoes and wondering how I was the chosen one, cameras, body guards, 3 bedroom suites with champagne and fine chocolates, views of the city. Whisking off in escorted vans, interviews in three different languages and my hot soccer date on TV. It’s all so surreal and as our final destination draws near to where me and my soccer player will part I fight the urge to care that our fling will soon be done and replaced instead with distant moments and memories to be remembered.
However, on our last flight together my soccer player prolongs the enivitable by inviting me to stay with him at his home the two nights I will be in Spain. YES, YES, YES and YES again! I am so excited, but manage to keep my cool as I realize saying goodbye like this will result in the same pain one encounters when pulling the bandage from their wound slowly, inch by inch rather in one quick and final movement. I ignore the thought and instead tell him I have to first check into my hotel in order to avoid the questions from my pilots. Shortly after parting for what I thought would be the last time he picked me up at my hotel and zoomed me away from the hotel in his $80,000 SUV and up the winding cobble stone roads of Barcelona toward his home overlooking the city lights and the stadium where he makes his fortune.
His home is like a fortress minus the mote but just as difficult to penetrate. He pushes buttons and enter codes, watchful cameras blink red lights signaling their ability to watch my every move. I stay near him, the hardness of his body providing unnecessary protection yet welcomed comfort. I have never felt a body like his. Every inch of him is as hard as granite and just as awe inspiring. Damn!
He gives me a tour of his home as any good host would and later that night around 10 p.m. cooks me dinner. Am I in Heaven and if I am can I stay for awhile? As he cooks us dinner I sit on the counter watching him, enjoying the moment and taking it all in so as not to be forgotten. Who knew the boy could cook as well as he played? I thought perfection was left to fairy tales, but here I am witness to a reality that could very much be mistaken for a fairy tale if one did not keep their head about her.
And so we sit and laugh, enjoying the simplicity of the moment. We finish our dinner of fresh pasta and homemade sauce and leave the dishes in the sink for the maids as we head upstairs to unpack. The boy has bought about $10,000 worth of clothes and shoes during his trip so unpacking takes forever. I end up falling asleep only to be awoken hours later by gentle kisses and his strong and perfect arms wrapped around my small body. I snuggle into his warmth, content and quickly slip back to reality for the dreaming is left for when I am awake.
Almost a year later I still hear from the boy occasionally and most recently have begun to look at homes for him to buy here on the West Coast of California as requested. This brings me to where I am today.
Currently I am living in weather always perfect, sun always shinning, water always warm, perfect surf San Diego. Family circumstances brought me here, but before that I was living in an apartment run-a-muck by cockroaches - literally - in a city run-a-muck with wealthy, eternal bachelors. One day I even found one in my shirt, squished against my stomach, a cockroach that is, not a man.
Okay so now you know where I live, but what do I do? When living in Redondo Beach trying whatever I could to make ends meet while never working for anyone but myself I started a luxury yacht concierge business called Mermaid Yacht Services. This is what I did for money when I met Tucker so one evening while eating a plate of blackened Salmon in a candle lit restaurant in Santa Monica Tucker suggested that I do my concierge business on private jets. Tucker's insight is what led me to learn more about the private jet world. So here I am a flight attendant on private jets learning about the business and gathering research, insight and networking as I develop my business plan - I am a business developer after all. You see Tucker flies private and as we sat across from one another, me mesmerized, him working his charm he suggested I do my business on private jets as it would yield more money. Besides it really does make sense since the majority of private fliers are also luxury yacht owners and so it all began. The real estate happened by default. My father is a broker in San Diego and since I was now living here and have my license it just sort of happened. There in lies the answer to the questions - ‘what in the heck does this girl do and who is she?’
And so it continues...
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