The other day I was standing in line at Starbucks and getting my much needed Monday morning caffeine fix, when a very handsome man, with a million dollar smile, helped me pick up my credit card. I had dropped it while purchasing a tall skinny vanilla latte. He was beautiful. The minute his eyes met mine, I thought my knees were going to buckle and I was going to fall smack dab into the muffin counter. I thanked him and moved out of line to wait for my morning addiction to be ready. While I was waiting, he walked over and introduced himself. When Mr. Million Dollar Smile reaches out his hand to introduce himself, I notice a beautiful pair of cuff-links, my male fashion weakness, and a very manly set of hands that gave a strong handshake. I am instantly putty in those manly hands. When my coffee order was called, he reached over and grabbed it, took out a pen, and wrote his number on the side of my cup. Adorable, I know. He flashed me his sexy grin one last time, and without saying a word, handed me my coffee and walked away.
I wait the necessary three days to call him (yeah, that's right fellas, I can play the game too). Mr. Million Dollar Smile and I have a great conversation in which he suggested we go see Citizen Cope at the House of Blues. I am more than thrilled. We met at South Water Kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat before the show and a bottle of wine. By the time our meal came, I was a tad bit tipsy and already madly in love. I'm in the middle of a hysterical story (this should not be surprising to anyone) when I looked up to see him take a bite out of his hamburger and in it, there are his pearly whites - those amazing teeth that gave him that million dollar smile - stuck...in his hamburger.
I tried not to let my shock and horror show, but anyone who knows me knows that my emotions are usually written all over my face. He turned eight shades of red and tried to explain how they got knocked out in a fight. What? My Prince Charming is a thug in cuff-links? Apparently, at one point in his life he was training for an Ultimate Fighting Championship and had the first seven top teeth knocked out during a fight and now wears false teeth that literally clip into his mouth. Hmmm. Now, I don't know about you, but nothing says sexy to me like a man who is only 32 and has fake teeth. I instantly have visions of him spending the night and rolling over to see his teeth sitting in a cup of Efferdent Plus on my nightstand. I quietly scolded myself for being so damn shallow and swore to block the vision of him toothless out of my mind, and enjoy the rest of the night with a smart, funny and intelligent man.
We head to the House of Blues, grabbed some beers at the bar, and pushed our way up to the stage where I was front and center with Citizen Cope. Yum. We are having an amazing time, Citizen Cope was singing Sideways, and Mr. Million Dollar Smile leaned over, grabbed my hand, and pulled me in for a soap opera worthy kiss. I immediately had visions of our beautiful kids, our cottage style house in Naperville and what cars we would drive since I refuse to buy a mini-van, until I am snapped back into reality with the realization that there was something in my mouth... and it's not my gum. I almost vomited all over the floor, right there in front of Clarence Greenwood (the lead singer of Citizen Cope and a big hottie) when I realized that what was in my mouth were his teeth. I shit you not. The next few moments happened in slow motion. He looked up at me, smiled this toothless grin, and began to say something about me having his teeth, and I reflexively freaked out and wanted those teeth out of my damn mouth as soon as possible, so I spit them out so fast you would have thought they were poison. Bad move, Gena. The next 20 minutes were spent trying to search the floor of this dark room with only our cell phones as light and trying not to disturb the other concertgoers. When we finally found them, they were covered in dust, dirt and some serious bar grime. I was thoroughly disgusted, but not as disgusted as I was when he...wait for it...then put them back into his mouth - bar grime and all!
Yup, that's it. I'm out. Temporary clip in teeth I can handle (with booze), but I have to draw the line at terrible hygiene. Does he kiss his mother with that mouth? Ew. Ew. Ew.