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My dinner with Mike

Posted on May 26, 2012 by Susan Lewis

I had a wonderful evening and am so glad my friend Laura gave me the push I needed. I have not dated for over a year since breaking up with my last boyfriend and would not admit the degree of the hurt, disappointment and failure that I have felt for the last year. I had hit my limit, and then some, on rejection and had decided it wasn’t worth it to risk going through it again, so I parked myself on the sidelines and watched.

I knew the evening would be fine, no matter what happened because I would be surrounded by my friends that love and care for me. I ended up wearing my size 6 Harley jeans, which are cut low with a large belt, tight tank top and 4′ heels. This is how I prefer to dress, so might as well just be myself and let the chips fall where they may. I topped it off with red lipstick and my trusty black leather jacket.

I arrived a bit late. Everyone was there, which was 6 of us. I was greeted warmly by Laura when I walked it and my friends came over to say hello and hug me. Sitting on the couch was Mike. As soon as I walked in, he stood up. Score one for him! We shook hands and the evening began.

Dinner was great and the conversation ebbed and flowed. Mike looked to be in his 50′s, trim with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. He is very good looking and has an air of confidence and sincerity about him. He sat across from me and spent most of the evening talking to me. I found his manners impeccable from holding my chair out for me to asking me questions and actually listening to what I had to say.

Side note to men: All foreplay includes good manners, which includes LISTENING to what she has to say. Just thought I would throw that in there for you. It works.

I knew what was going to happen during dinner and my sisters did not disappoint me. There would be no need for me to ask him anything that would come across as if I was interviewing him or prying. My sisters would do that and it would appear perfectly innocent to him. One would ask a question about his family. Another would ask him if he had any children. The next one would ask him about his work. All I would have to do is sit back, smile and listen. They would let me know later if they approved or not and I learned a long time ago, listen to my sisters!

Mike works with Laura’s husband, Bob so Laura did not know much about him. At one point, Laura asked him how long he had been single.

“Well, I’ve been separated for about 3 months now, so…..”

You could cut the silence with a knife. Mike didn’t notice and kept talking. I felt a slight smile cross my face and said nothing, but I could see the women shooting looks at each other and then at me. I gave them a slight shrug and chuckled. I could hear Mike talking to Bob about something about where he had moved to and I looked over at Laura. She looked like a dear in the headlights and mouthed the words “I swear I didn’t know.” I smiled back and said “It’s OK. Don’t worry about it. Really, don’t” and then I pretended to understand what the men were talking about.

After dinner, I knew I had to get into the kitchen because the women had jumped up, cleared the table and then quietly motioned me to follow them. I marched in and the door was closed.

“Oh shit, I thought he was single….” said Laura.

“Yeah, but he’s separated so…” said Barbara.

“But only 3 months! I mean, come on…” said Karen.

I leaned back against the counter, folded my arms across my chest and let them talk. “Ladies, it’s OK. It’s not a big deal.”

They all turned and looked at me. God love my married female friends. They don’t know what it’s like and they all have this look of disappointment, mixed with just a tinge of pity and sadness when they look at me. That makes me angry for a moment.

“You are all looking at me as if my life just ended out there at the dining room table. It didn’t and it won’t. I think it’s funny, actually, so lighten up and just enjoy the rest of the evening.”

“But we were all hoping…”

“I know what you were all hoping for and I love you all for it, but please get it out of your head that I am miserable and lonely, just because I don’t have someone in my life this exact moment. That’s not how it works. Besides, you are all acting like this is the ONLY man for me and if I don’t snatch him up right away, I will shrivel up and die. I’m not going back to who I used to be. Not for anyone.”

Lots of head nodding and smiles and thumbs-up. I know my words fell on deaf ears, but that’s fine. They are too cute to stay mad at.

“Now, someone help me find my cane and glasses and help this poor, old soul back into the living room. Where did I leave my teeth?” I ask.

Stunned silence until I started laughing so hard, I had to bend over to catch my breath and then walked out of the kitchen and left the door open. I could hear them laughing too, so all was good again.

I ended up talking with Mike outside on the patio after stealing some cigars from Bob. Nothing like a good cigar after a huge meal with wonderful and well intended friends.

“So, Susan, it’s really nice to get to know you. I love a woman that smokes a cigar.”

“You know this whole dinner party is a set-up, right?”

Based on the look on his face, he did not know. This made me get the giggles. I will always love the cluelessness of men. It is quite endearing.

He blushes and looks away. “Ummm, well, no I didn’t know but I’m glad it happened.”

“You’re not ready to date me.”

“I’m not? Why not?”

“It’s called rebound. You need a rebound girl. That’s not me.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes it is, but only to me. Is this your first divorce?”

“Yep, 30 years and now I don’t know what.”

“Ah, you’re a rookie.”

“Oh, and you’re a pro?”

I laughed. “Yes, when it comes to divorce and break-ups, I am. Look, here’s the deal. When this happens to someone, your whole life falls apart. I don’t know what happened with you and I don’t want to know. It doesn’t matter. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good and now you’re confused, alone, scared and you just want your life back but you know it will never happen. What you had before is gone, destroyed and it’s never coming back. You wrestle with it, day and night, and you blame yourself, you blame them but no matter who you blame, it won’t fix it.”

He sighed deeply, looked down at his feet and nodded.

“I’m sorry Mike if I am being too personal, but if anyone needed a friend to talk to, that would be you. You can tell me to shut-up and I will. I just want you to know that I have a good idea how you are feeling.”

“No, it’s OK. Please keep talking. Please.”

And so we talked. No one came out to the patio, which I thought was cute but I knew damn well we were being watched. I listened to him tell me how scared he was and how he can’t stand being in his apartment alone, every day and night. I sat and listened.

We wandered back into the house and had coffee and dessert. Everyone pretended like they didn’t realize Mike and I had disappeared for an hour. I was happy, full and getting sleepy. I knew I would have to debrief my sisters, so back into the kitchen we wandered and left the men alone to finally talk about what they wanted to talk about.

I told them all was good and that Mike was a great guy but not ready to date me. I then told them that if I saw one look of pity or disappointment on their faces, I would cut their tits off. That seemed to work.

As I was leaving, I said my good-byes and Mike insisted on walking me to my car. As we walked towards my car, he put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me but didn’t say a word.

“Thanks Susan for listening to me. I can’t believe I told you so much.”

“It’s OK Mike. We all need someone to listen.”

With that, I got one of the most passionate kisses I have ever gotten. I actually stopped breathing for a moment.

He stepped back and smiled at me. “I’ll be calling you in a few months and hoping that the men around you continue to be stupid and no one scoops you up before I call. Good night Susan.” And with that, he opened my car door, made sure I fastened my seat belt and locked my door. He then squatted down so I rolled down my window.

“Yes?” I ask and grin at him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Just take it easy, don’t rush into anything and breath. It will all be OK.”

I drove home with a huge grin on my face and it stayed there all night while I slept.

I’m back! I did it and no one died. Life is good.

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Yeah, I broke the bitches nose.

Posted on May 5, 2012 by Susan Lewis

She had it coming for a very long time. And no, I feel no remorse about it. In fact, every time I think about it, I smile.

Her name was…Janet. Yeah, we’ll use that name. It’s a good name and nondescript.

I’ve learned that by the time something results in violence, there is a whole, long history there.  I mean, most things that turn out like this didn’t happen suddenly. It started long before the actual incident and there is all sides to the story. This is especially true for people like myself who are not violent and don’t deal with things in that nature.

That night had been the culmination of close to 10 years of her verbal and mental abuse. It’s interesting how people talk about abusive relationships between romantic couples, but not so much about the kind that can occur between friends. Women friends, to be specific. It happened to me and I didn’t even know it was going on.

I was in my mid-20′s when I first met Janet, via my good friend Pam. I remember when I first met Janet, I wasn’t sure at first that she was a woman until I heard her name. She was taller than me, older by about 10 years, and had this very direct manner about her. I liked her because she was a friend of a good friend.

We began hanging out together over the next few years and formed a close friendship. One of my first clues that something wasn’t right about her was my husband could not stand her and would have nothing to do with her. He was always cordial towards her, but always had to be some place else when she was around. He loved my friend Pam and they got along great, but when Janet was around, he would leave.

It was becoming obvious over time and I finally asked him about it. He had never said anything to me and just left us alone.

“I don’t trust her and she’s nothing more than a blow hard. I’m sorry, I know she’s your friend, but I just don’t want to be around her and I don’t want her coming over.”

I tried to convince him that she was fine and that was my second clue. Why was I trying to “sell” him on her? He was a likable person when he felt like it, but not everyone liked him. (That’s another clue – if you’re dating someone and your friends don’t like him, run away quickly. Remind me to blog about that sometime.)

My husband was the most amazing  judge of character of anyone I had ever seen. He was NEVER wrong. It was a gift and I should have paid attention to what he was saying, but I didn’t. I learned to never to do that again. It wasn’t they way she acted that he hated. It was HER. The person that he couldn’t stand.

Anyway, I made sure that the two of them didn’t interact and that seemed to keep everyone happy.

Over the years, Janet began to drink heavily. This was gradual and was unnoticed by me. I did not see her that often as she lived out-of-town with Pam. They were roommates since both were divorced and raising their children together. I would go up for a weekend every few months and spend time with them. That’s when I started to see how badly Janet had deteriorated.

I had some training to do one Saturday way up North, which was close to their house. The next day was Easter and the plan was for me to stay over Saturday night, spend Easter with them and the kids, and then drive back home Sunday night. It was a great plan.

I had not seen the two of them in over a year between work and family schedules and I only talked to Pam which was fine with me. Janet was someone I would never have been with friends with on my own. She was too abrupt, rude and crass for my taste. But because of my friendship with Pam and her friendship with Janet, I accepted her as a friend.

When I arrived at their house that night, I was shocked at what I saw. The house was a disaster, the 3 kids were running around and they had a look of scared animals about them. I didn’t know what I was seeing, but I didn’t like it. Pam looked horrible, as if she hadn’t slept in a week and sitting in her recliner (or throne, if you knew Janet) was the Queen Bee herself – Janet.

She glared at me when I came in and actually snarled. I nodded my head in her direction and she looked away. I didn’t know why she was being so rude, but I didn’t care. I was worried about Pam.

I said hello to the kids and hugged them. All three try to sit on my lap, so I opted for the floor and talked with each of them. They were happy to see me and I started to calm down when I saw their smiles.

Janet refused to talk to me, so I played with the kids for a bit while Pam was in the kitchen. She was fixing me a late dinner. I got away from the children and went into the kitchen. Pam was at the sink. I walked up behind her, placed my hands on her shoulder and turned her around to look at me.

“OK, you want to tell me what the hell is going on? In all the years I have known you, I’ve never seen your house look like this, I’ve never seen you this tired and I don’t even want to know what’s up with Janet. Talk to me, please.”

Pam’s eyes teared up and she looked down at the floor. “I don’t know what to do anymore. Janet is drunk all the time, I don’t have the money to move because she has refused to work and I’m worried about the kids. I can’t leave here without them and I can’t stay. I just don’t know what to do.”

Pam had one child and Janet had two. Pam had been raising them for years, so the idea of just walking away from the was not an option. This I understood because I would not have done that either.

I hugged her and told her it would be OK, that we would figure something out and she calmed down.

I grabbed some food from the frig and made her sit down and stop waiting on me. The kids came running into the kitchen and it became obvious everyone was avoiding Janet.

I walked back into the living room and she snarled at me again. I sat down and looked at her. She was drunk and she was not a nice drunk. She was one of the nastiest drunks I had ever seen and I now understood what a horrible position everyone in the household was in. I was angry but I stayed calm. I took the drink out of her hand and put it on the table. It was time to get her sober and try to give the kids a decent Easter.

She looked at me and said nothing. I was tired of her abuse of my friend and the children. It was one thing to put up with her barbs and snide remarks to me over the years but it was a whole other thing to pick on my friend and upset children.

She didn’t drink the rest of the night and was quiet. Anytime she would start to say something, I would look at her and she would shut-up. We spent the evening playing with the kids and when it was time to put them to bed, they were cheerful and excited about the Easter Bunny coming that night.

Once they were asleep, I began to help Pam with the Easter baskets and the hiding of the eggs. Janet remained on her throne and out of my way. There was an unspoken understanding between her and I that I would not tolerate any of her bad behavior or drinking.

It was late before I made it to bed in the guest room. Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a large bang outside my bedroom door and I heard Pam scream. Before I even knew what I was doing, I was out of bed and flung open the door.

Janet had thrown Pam against the wall and was yelling at her to give her the keys to the car. I found out later that right after I had gone to bed, Janet started drinking heavily and wanted to go for a drive. Pam had grabbed the keys away from her and that’s when Janet went after her.

It didn’t take me even a second to yell at Janet and tell her to leave Pam alone. This really pissed her off and before I knew it, she turned around and came after me. She picked me up and slammed me against the wall. My head and back hit the wall hard and I slid down. She turned around and went after Pam again. I shook my head (you actually do that, just like in the movies) and I pulled myself up and yelled at her again.

I have never in my life been in a fight. Not even with my brothers. I have never been struck, hit or slapped and I have never hit another person. I have never had the desire to physically hurt someone. I have a peaceful nature, but that all left me when I saw my friend being hurt. All I knew was that it was not going to continue, no matter what I had to do. I would never stand by while a bully is at work.

She turned around again and lunged towards me. I reacted by putting my hands up and then suddenly all the boxing lessons my brother had given me came into play. I made a fist and extended my arm and made contact with her nose. I wasn’t aiming at all. I just happen to have the right angle with her height and she ran into my fist as much as I hit her with it.

It’s hard to describe the noise it made and even more difficult to explain the immense pain that was in my hand and shot up my arm to my neck. Janet screamed, put her hands up to her nose and I watched as the blood came pouring out.

It was surreal. Pam was standing in the background, stunned. Everything had happened so fast, within seconds and now time stood still.

I felt great. I felt wonderful and I didn’t care if I broke her nose or not. For one moment, it was quiet.

Janet screamed and ran out of the house. I grabbed Pam. She was fine but in shock.

All I could think about were the children. That was my only thought. I didn’t care about the stupid adults anymore. I wanted the kids to be OK and prayed they hadn’t heard anything.

I sat Pam down and ran upstairs to check on them. They were all sleeping. I felt such relief. I ran back down the stairs and told Pam we were all leaving.

She didn’t understand. I told her again we were all leaving and going to my house for the night. I told her to start packing a few things, grab the Easter baskets and when my car was packed, put the kids in my car.

Pam nodded. She was in shock, so I tried to be as patient at I could, but I knew more trouble was brewing. Janet had run outside, tripped on a garden gnome and was lying in the driveway. She was crying and threatening to call the cops on me. I wanted out of there as fast as I could but I couldn’t leave the children or my friend.

Janet got up and walked up towards the front door. It was partially glass and I saw her nose was still bleeding a little bit, but she wasn’t dead. She put her hand on the knob, looked up and saw me. I stared at her, shook my head and raised my fist to indicate I would hit her again. I wasn’t kidding.

She screamed and ran off into the garden, still threatening to call the cops. Well, she would have to get into the house to do that, and I figured we would be long gone before she was sober enough. Plus she didn’t know what kind of car I had and if she did call, it would be obvious she was drunk.

We finally got the car packed. We had three kids to squeeze into it. Somehow we were able to move them without waking them. I grabbed my things and put Pam in the passenger seat. Janet stayed away and I could hear her in the background, talking to herself, randomly screaming but too afraid to come near the house.

As we drove off, I told her we were leaving and she could go back into the house. I peeled out of there as fast as I could.

I drove for 3 hours and held Pam’s hand. I told her to sleep and not to worry. We got to my house at 3:00 in the morning. I went inside and fixed up my bed for the kids. Pam and I carried them in and tucked them into my bed. Pam slept in the spare room and I slept on the couch. My hand was killing me but it wasn’t swollen. I put ice on it, took some aspirin and dozed for a bit.

The next morning, I got up early and went to the store. I got toothpaste and toothbrushes and a bunch of food for everyone. I came back and hid Easter eggs and baskets and made a pot of coffee. I waited for everyone to wake-up.

We ended up having a great Easter. I unplugged the phone because I didn’t want Janet to call, even though I knew she wouldn’t. They stayed with me for a few days and soon everyone was looking like themselves again.

I spent a lot of time listening to Pam about what had been going on for so long that I didn’t know anything about. It was a bad situation that occurred over a long period of time. It was gradual and insidious and had come to a head that weekend.

Pam eventually moved out and cut Janet out of her life. She and I kept in contact with Janet’s two kids as much as we could. Their father was not around – don’t get me started on him – so we did what we could.

Everything turned out just fine. I saw the two kids last summer. They are grown with families of their own. That evening was never mentioned and as far as I knew, they knew nothing about it.

I was wrong.

When I saw them last July, I hugged them. Both of them said they would always love me for what I had done.

I actually didn’t know what they were talking about. It was long forgotten for me.

“We remember the night you took us out of there. We remember the Easter you gave us and we remember you always being there for us, even if it was in the background. We’ve always known you were there for us.”

To say I cried is an understatement. Those words have never left me and they never will

Never think that children don’t know or don’t understand. They do. They always do.

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I fell in love with him the moment I saw him

Posted on April 24, 2012 by Susan Lewis

I didn’t expect that to happen, but I’ve heard that it can. When it does, it’s like a lightning bolt that hits you from your head to your toes and you never want the sensation to stop.

I was minding my own business one Sunday afternoon. It was a very hot day. I had my hair pulled back, a summer dress on with sandals and no make-up. Yeah, it was that hot.

I had some errands to run and was feeling a bit cranky from the heat. I was tired, it had been another long week and I still had so much left to do that day.

I parked my car and jumped out to run into the store. As I was walking up, I saw someone standing there in the sun and I knew I wasn’t in the mood to give anyone money. I had my own problems and really didn’t want to deal with it, so I kept my head down as I walked past him, but that didn’t work. I heard his voice and turned around and looked at him.

He had said “I hope to see you smile someday.” That was all he said.

He was a black man, tall and thin with gray hair. He was holding something in his hand but he stood motionless. He just smiled at me and I smiled back. He didn’t say anything else so I turned around and went into the store.

As I walked away, I heard him say “That’s all I wanted to see.”

The sincerity and kindness in his voice resonated with me. I couldn’t shake it off. I tried to because, well, it was just a sudden act of kindness from a stranger.

When I came out of the store, he was still standing there but looking far away. He was in the hot sun and I stopped, turned around and went back into the store and bought a bottle of water. I could see other people ignoring him, just as I had, but he did not speak to them.

I walked up to him and handed him the water. He just looked at me, smiled and took the water from me and drank it. I watched him and then looked at what he was holding in his hand. It was a small flyer or newspaper. When he was done, he thanked me.

“What do you have in your hand?” I asked.

He told me what it was – I don’t remember – but he was selling them for $1.00.

“I would like to buy one,” I said.

I dug through my purse and only had $5.00, which I decided to give him. He would not accept that much. I insisted, but he was more stubborn than me.

“It’s only $1.00 and since I haven’t sold any yet, I’m afraid I can’t charge you more than that. It wouldn’t be right.”

“OK, then let me go get some change and I’ll be right back.”

“I have a better idea, ma’am.”

“Oh yeah? And what that might be?” I asked. I could not help but grin back at him because that was the effect he had on me. From the moment I saw him, I wanted to smile at him.

“I would like to sing you a song and if I can get you to smile just one more time, my life would be complete. You have the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.”

And that was the exact moment I fell in love with this man. He oozed sincerity and kindness and an abundance of goodness.

“Really?” was about the most intelligent response I could give because I was starting to blush. “Deal.”

He took my hand and stepped back and began to sing. He had the most beautiful voice. I don’t know the song he sang, but it was the first time in all my years that someone actually sang a song to me. To my heart.

Even though I had “seen” him when I first arrived, standing there and listening to him was really the first time I “saw” him, the beautiful spirit that he was. I fell in love, right then and there, hard.

When he was done, I gave him the $5.00 and hugged him. I couldn’t help it. He hugged me back and for a moment we stood in that parking lot, holding hands and smiling at each other.

I never saw him again after that and I would often look. I would go by on the weekends and see if he was there. He wasn’t and I was always sad.

I love that man and if the day ever comes that I no longer love people, that is the day I need to die.

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My LAST trip to Walmart

Posted on April 23, 2012 by Susan Lewis

It took quite a bit of bribing to make me go back there. I mean, a lot. I had only been to Wal-Mart a few times, years ago, and had freaked out so much that I vowed never to go back. Whatever few dollars I was going to save was not worth my sanity.

I don’t like crowds. In fact, I detest them. I am usually a fairly nice and pleasant person, but something happens to me when someone gets in my way. I don’t like having to walk around people or wait while they block aisles or generally just seem to wander around like a zombie, clueless and completely unaware of their surroundings. I will play bumper cars with my shopping cart if someone leaves theirs in the middle of the aisle and blocks it. I do consider it fair game. I also consider any act of stupidity to be fair game for me.

When I think of Wal-Mart or Costco or any gigantic store, I feel my heels dig in and my hackles go up. I know it’s going to be a battle field and that all I have to do is get in and get out and not hurt anyone.

So when my friend called me one day, I knew something was up right away. I could sense it in her voice, so me being me, just cut right to the chase. “What do you want? Go ahead, just blurt it out.”

She sighed. “I have a HUGE favor to ask of you and if there was anyone else I could ask, I would. But there isn’t anyone.”

I knew that whatever she asked, I would do.

“Sure. What is it?”

Long pause. “If you do this favor for me, I will take you to Chevy’s for as many margaritas and tacos that you want. I’ll drive, so you don’t have to worry.  We’ll go first. How does that sound?”

“It sounds great, except…where are we going exactly?” I did not like where this was going, but I kept my mouth shut.

“It won’t take long, I promise. We’ll be in and out of there in no time, especially since you’ll be there and can help me. I want to go this Saturday.”

“Oh no! No! Don’t say it, please…”

“Wal-Mart. Really, it won’t be bad….”

“Are you kidding me? What in God’s name do you need at Wal-Mart THREE DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS?”

Yes, she was asking me to go with her to Wal-Mart three days before Christmas. I thought maybe I had suddenly died and taken the express route to hell or maybe this was some kind of joke.

I love Jennifer. She has been my best friend for almost 20 years. She has survived some of the most horrendous situations and now she had met the man of her dreams, they were getting married soon and she was the happiest person I knew. She was always happy and almost never asked me for anything, ever.

I knew I would go and I silently cursed the day I met her. “I hate you,” was all I could say.

She laughed. “I know, but I love you and you’ll do it because deep, down inside, you love me.”

She was right. Of course I would go but I was going to make her pay.

We set it up for that Saturday. She came by, picked me up and I snapped and snarled all the way to Chevy’s. No matter what I said, she would smile and agree. This made it very hard for me to maintain my hostility, but I tried.

We get to Chevy’s and I immediately order two margaritas, on the rocks with lots of salt. I started on the chips and kept going until the tacos arrived. I knew what was coming and I was dreading it. After the second margarita, I was feeling relaxed and a bit goofy (which is how I get when I drink) and was prepared to face the battle field.

She needed to get a couple of very specific things for her fiance and being a single Mom with two kids, money was always tight. I knew that and I silently smacked myself for not keeping that in mind when she called.

We drove over to Wal-Mart and the parking lot was packed. I took a deep breath and kept telling myself to relax and to have a positive attitude and since I had a few drinks under my belt, it seemed like it would be easy enough.

As soon as we walked in, I knew I was in trouble. The first thing I noticed was the smell of the popcorn which was being cooked in rancid fat. I felt the tacos in my stomach move around. I took a deep breath and followed her. She knew what she wanted and I trailed behind. The store was packed and we could barely move.

As I followed her, I was bumped by countless people who never once apologized or even acknowledge my existence. One woman stepped on my foot and when I cried out, she didn’t even turn around. She kept walking and I glared at her and started to follow her, but instead Jennifer grabbed me by the arm and turned me away. I tried to get out of her grasp on my arm, but she dug her hand deeper into my elbow and kept dragging me away from my intended target.

Somehow we made it to the electronics department and I froze. This is not my area of expertise. The entire subject of high-tech puts me to sleep and makes me grumpy. I’ve lived in Silicon Valley all my life and I still don’t know what anyone is talking about. I am constantly corrected at work when I say “the screen” and am told it’s called a monitor. I do not care. I just want someone to make it work. I do not know the difference between anything to do with software or hardware or anything in-between and I don’t want to know. But there I was, stuck in hell,  because I wanted to help my friend. She wanted to get a very particular game for him and Wal-Mart had the best prices, so there we were.

She dashed around and I followed her as best as I could, but I was constantly getting shoved, bumped into, stepped on and not once did anyone excuse themselves. I did the first fifteen times and then stopped. It didn’t seem to matter and I figured “When in Rome…”

After a half hour, Jennifer found what she was looking for, but it was behind a locked clear plastic screen, so now we had to get one of the blue people. The blue people who had suddenly disappeared, never to be seen again. By now the effects of the margaritas had worn off and a headache had started. I leaned against the sacred plastic door and closed my eyes. I decided I would stand guard, as this would give me something to do and perhaps add some small degree of value to my presence while Jennifer went looking for one of the elusive Blue person.

While I leaned against the plastic, I put my hands behind me and attempted to get as flat against it as I could, but I was still bumped into and shoved. It looked as if there were over a million people in this store and there was some target on me that only they could see that screamed for all of them to come into this isle at this exact time and shove me further into the plastic.

Finally Jennifer came around the corner with a blue person. I moved out of the way, the sacred door was opened and the item was gotten. I jumped up and down and raised my fist in the air and shouted “Yes!” as loud as I could. This gave Jennifer a fit of the giggles and startled the blue person, who already looked scared. “It’s OK, don’t mind her,” she said as we walked away. I actually started to skip down the aisle and Jennifer joined me. We tripped a few times over the discarded merchandise, but we didn’t care. Even tripping and falling (I fell once but caught myself before landing face first in a bag of popcorn someone had dropped) seemed like heaven.

We get in line to purchase the sacred item and there is only one person in front of us. I cheer again and start laughing. There is a light at the end of the tunnel and soon, we will be free. I start hugging Jennifer and she hugs me back. I can almost see the finish line and I have become giddy with the sheer joy that soon my life will return to normal and I will be set free from this dungeon.

But that was not going to be the case. Apparently the customer was questioning each and every item that the clerk was ringing up. She had an overflowing cart and every time an item was entered, she had to look at the screen and then look at the tag and then ask the clerk if he was sure and no matter what he said, she argued. Each item was discussed for at least one minute before it was established that it was being correctly wrung up and no one was ripping her off.

I quickly estimated that based on the items in her cart, multiplied by one minute each, we would be there for a month. Just as I was about to tell Jennifer this, someone came up and stood behind us.

I know this because I smelled him before his nasal grunting began. It was a putrid smell and when I turned around to see what had died,  I saw that the smell was coming from his constant burping. These were loud burps and once in a while, he would sound like he was about to spit what he had just violently snorted into his throat from his running nose.

I stifled a scream and turned and glared at Jennifer. She was holding her nose with her fingers and looking down at her shoes, avoiding my glare which I knew she felt.

Then the man behind me moved in closer and actually started to lean against me. I jumped forward and turned around and stared at him. “Hey! Do you mind?” I shouted. He didn’t flinch and slowly raised his sleeve to his nose and wiped it. He just stood there, staring off into space and completely unaware I had said anything to him.

Jennifer finally looked at me and mouthed the words “I’m sorry” and I smiled. It was OK, I told myself. We were almost done and all we needed was the rocket scientist ahead of us to finish. I raised my hand to my nose and covered it. Whatever was wrong with the man behind us was severe and gross and we just had to wait it out.

When he leaned against me the second time, I turned around and shoved him back as hard as I could. No way I was going to let some pervert get off on touching me, no matter where we were. He stumbled back and fell into the woman behind him and she shoved him. Soon he was coming back towards me, so I stepped aside and let him fall. He got up, looked around, wiped his nose again and just stood there, staring off into the distance.

Finally it was our turn. The clerk was as nice as could be and I thanked him for it. No one had said a word about me accosting a customer, as if it was an everyday occurrence. Jennifer grabbed the bag when we were done and we RAN out of the store, through the front door (we slowed down so the person waiving at us wouldn’t tackle us) and then skipped to her car.

We jumped in and drove out of the parking lot as fast as we could without killing anyone. Once we were a safe distance away, Jennifer pulled over and parked the car. She turned around, leaned over and hugged me as hard as she could. She was teary eyed and kept thanking me for going with her.

I realized that it had been an adventure and I had helped my friend. “Thanks Susie Q for behaving yourself for YOU and not getting us arrested for shoving that guy. You did good.”

Yeah, that’s what friends are for and I didn’t get us arrested. I did good.

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The teacher who tried to kill me

Posted on March 19, 2012 by Susan Lewis

She spent two years trying to kill me emotionally and spiritually and to this day, I still don’t know why. But I know she tried and failed.

It was in the 5th and 6th grade when this happened. The school I was going to was right down the street from me and all of us students knew each other. We all lived within walking distance and were all friends for the most part.

There were always new students coming and going, but being female and of the age where what others thought of me defined who I was, I didn’t always get to know the “new kids” simply because I had so many friends that I had grown up with.

The school decided that since we were going to be attending Junior High soon, they would acclimate us to having to move from one class to another rather than having only one teacher for the entire day.

This bothered me because I loved my teacher, Mrs. Aronson. She was VERY old since she was probably in her 60′s and I was 10 but I loved her and she had been the only teacher I had known since first grade.

But the “Powers That Be” wanted us to learn how to go from classroom to classroom and have all of our materials with us, so the journey began and I was put in a Math class with a teacher called Mrs. McDougal.

The moment I saw her, I froze. She was much younger than Mrs. Aronson and very pretty. She dressed sharply and had the most beautiful hair I had ever seen. It was straight where mine was curly. She was thin and I was approaching puberty and starting to have very strange things happen with my body.

She stood at the front of the class and glared at us. She then did roll call and quickly rearranged where we were to sit. She didn’t know most of us and I had never seen her before, but she pointed her finger at me and said “Susan, come over and sit right here,” which was the first seat in the first row, closest to her desk. I got up, grabbed my books and sat down. She then pointed to another girl, whom I didn’t know, and had her sit next to me. Her name was Donna. Once Donna sat down, Mrs. McDougal sneered at us and then looked at the class.

“This is where the stupid people sit,” and then laughed.

I didn’t understand what she meant and Donna and I looked at each other. When it dawned on me that she was referring to both of us, I felt my face turn red and the tears sting my eyes. Donna had the same reaction and we said nothing and could hear the other kids laughing at us.

For the next 2 years, she picked on us. I never said a word to my parents because I thought she was right because she’s a teacher and teachers know everything, right?

Plus I then became convinced that I was stupid and I didn’t want anyone to know. My brothers had always called me that and I gave as good as I got, but that’s just sibling’s doing what we do – tease each other and then be friends again.

But now I had someone, an ADULT, telling me at least twice a week how stupid I was. Sometimes she would call Donna and I up to stand in front of the class and point to us and say “This is what a stupid person looks like” and then have us sit down again.

I can just hear you, the reader, shaking your head and wondering why I didn’t say anything. Well, if you don’t know why, then maybe you don’t understand what it’s like for girls at that age and how vulnerable we are. You might not understand or remember what an adult’s words can do to a child.

They are worse than bullets and do much more damage. This is the reason I will always believe what a child tells me. Always, no matter what.

I somehow made it through her class after 2 years, but to this day, I have never been good at math. My parents hired a tutor for me and for a while, it got better. I can figure other things out and my IQ is high enough, but I will always consider the day that calculators were developed to be a holy day for me.

Years later, when I was married, I said something about this to my husband. To say he went sideways is an understatement. Up until that point, “me being a stupid person” was something I felt shameful about and was always afraid someone would find out. It took a lot of talking with him to pull the whole story out of me.

When I told my Mom about it, she almost cried. She had no idea and if she had, she would have been down at that school, told them what was going on and had me pulled out of that class. She understood why I never said anything but I suspect that it has never set right with her. It wasn’t a matter of trust in talking about it. That was not why I hadn’t said anything.

It’s a matter of shame regardless if it’s misplaced or not. If you believe it, then it’s true for you. All other points of view are not valid. What you think and believe about yourself is what matters.

Ironically, what happened to me is something that I value because it has made me very good at my job. I teach and I know what it’s like to learn something new and be confused and yes, somewhat stupid until you master it. It takes the right materials and the right person to guide you through it.

It takes someone who knows what it’s like to feel stupid and to understand that you aren’t stupid – you just don’t know something.

As an aside, after I told my husband about it, he asked me if I knew where she had lived. I did as it was right down the street from my old childhood house. He got a wicked look in his eye and asked me if I wanted to go visit Mrs. McDougal. I said I did, so we jumped into the car and drove over there.

I stood on the sidewalk and looked at the house. It had been many years since I had been there and I was convinced that she had either moved away or hopefully died. We walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. I held my breath.

She answered the door and at first, I wasn’t sure it was her. She had not aged gracefully, which made me feel better. Her skin was badly wrinkled, she was no longer attractive and her hair was the same. I then realized that the hair I had envied for so long had always been a wig.

I asked if she was Mrs. McDougal and she hesitated for a moment. She was hunched over and was wearing a dirty robe even though it was late afternoon. She nodded her head and for half a second, I felt sorry for her but that was all.

Here was a woman who was evil. God knows what other lives she had destroyed.

I told her who I was and it did not register with her. That pissed me off. I explained that she was one of the worse human beings I had ever had the displeasure of knowing and that there was no excuse for what she had done to me and Donna.

When I said Donna’s name, I saw the light go on in her eyes. My husband was standing next to me and never said a word but glared at her.

“Oh, you remember, don’t you?” I asked. She stood motionless.

“Well, I wanted you to know that you didn’t succeed. I am fine and I turned out to be a really good person, despite your efforts to kill me. But if I ever see you again…” I said and let the sentence hang in the air. She nodded. We turned around and walked away. She didn’t close the door until we had driven off.

I hope she’s still awake, waiting for me to come back.

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I know what the back seat of a police car looks like.

Posted on March 17, 2012 by Susan Lewis

Actually, the one I was in was quite nice but they don’t have door handles.

Who knew, right? I mean, as soon as I was put in the back of it and while the officer was walking around the car to get into the driver’s seat, I immediately reached for the handle to let myself out.

There wasn’t one.

I was screwed and started to cry again. He got behind the wheel, started the engine and pulled away as if a hysterical teenager in his back seat was completely normal. It probably was.

My friend Katie had already been put in the back seat with me and sat there, quietly, with her head down and stared at her feet. I looked over at her door, hoping I could jump across her and make an exit, even if he was driving.  I had a plan and stopped crying as I leaned over to find it. There wasn’t one. I sat back, wiped my face and tried to breathe  as we drove out of the parking lot of the department store and headed towards our homes.

The cop was taking us home. To talk to our parents and tell them what we had done.

I wanted to die after killing Katie for getting me into this position.

She had shoplifted and we both got caught.

I saw her do it and I didn’t care. It was a $2.00 necklace that she quietly scooped up from the counter and put in her pocket. We had the money to buy it, but she wanted to steal it and I thought that was a great idea.

We were both 15 and were probably hitting a rebellious phase or something. It just seemed like a wild and fun thing to do, so I egged her on. Neither one of us had ever caused our parents any trouble. She was a good Christian girl, I was the Heathen child from “the people who don’t go to church” and her family had been trying to save my soul for 10 years. I secretly wished they would leave me alone, but that’s another story.

What could go wrong, right? Just take the necklace and walk out of the store. Easy.

After she put it in her pocket, we casually walked outside and that’s when all hell broke loose.

Suddenly we had 2 men busting through the department store doors, yelling at us to stop. Katie froze and I took off.  She didn’t know what was going on but I did. She often had that “deer in the headlights” look when anything happened suddenly. Not me. Once I understood we were going to be arrested, I started running.

I didn’t get far before one of them grabbed me and swung me around to look at him. I’ll never forget the look on his face. He was pissed off because he had to run. He was probably 100 pounds overweight and I had made a huge mistake in running. His face was flushed and there was sweat on his forehead and he was angry. So angry.

I thought for a moment of breaking away, but it was pointless. The other guy was marching Katie through the door. I could feel the tears starting. I hung my head down and let him march me through the doors.

I really must have pissed him off because suddenly he’s shouting “Everyone stand back. I have a shoplifter here. Move aside.” He said this all the way through the store and down the stairs.

I had never felt such humiliation towards myself and such intense hatred towards another human being. He had a smile on his face the whole time and the more upset I got, the bigger his smile became.

We were marched down 2 flights of stairs and plunked down on 2 steel chairs and told to sit still and not say anything. By then Katie was crying and I was starting to cry harder.

We were in an office in the basement with desks, chairs and phones with lots of people walking around. I could see the TV monitors that covered the entire store and one was directly on the location where Katie had stolen the necklace.

I sneered at her and refused to take any responsibility for what SHE had done.

We sat there for what seemed like hours but was probably only 10 minutes. Someone came and led Katie into a room and I was lead into another one. By then I couldn’t stop crying and I couldn’t look at anyone.

The man who came into the office I was in stood in the doorway for a few seconds and sneered at me. I started to say something and he silenced me by holding up his hand and shaking his head.

He sat down, took my purse and dumped the contents out on his desk. He said he wanted to see if I had stolen anything. No matter how many times I said I hadn’t, he continued to pick up each item in my purse, look at it and set it aside.

I almost died when he did that with my tampons. As God as my witness, that was the worst moment of my life.

When he was done and  was convinced that I didn’t have any stolen items on me, he put all the contents back in my purse and handed it to me.

For the next half hour, I sat and listened to him yell at me and tell me what a horrible person I was. He ranted and raved and his arms never stopped moving while he yelled. He told me I was going to go to jail and that was the moment I lost it.

It was and is the only time in my life that I became hysterical. Now I know what that feels like and I can tell you, that when it starts, you can’t stop it. I was terrified. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t stop sobbing. He sat back and waited.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I stopped. I couldn’t cry anymore. I looked up and he was leaning back in his chair, staring at me and a very slight smile came across his face.

“OK, well maybe there’s something we can do. Tell you what, you promised to never step foot in this store again, I’ll let you off with a warning.”

I jumped up, agreed and promised him my first-born if I ever got within a mile of the store. I thanked him, stood up, grabbed my purse and started to walk out the door.

“Hold on a minute. We’re not done yet.”

I froze and thought I was going to start crying again. All I wanted in the whole world, was to leave that office.

“Have a seat.” I walked back and sat down and looked at him.

“I am making a permanent record on you. It will be on file. But since you are under 18, I am going to have an officer drive you home and talk to your parents and tell them what you did. I am not going to arrest you, but if I EVER see your face in this store again, I will. Do you understand me?”

I nodded, somehow.

I needed to die. Right then and there, death needed to come walking through that door and take me away. Talk to my parents? Be driven home in a cop car? No, death needed to happen right now because if it didn’t, my parents were going to kill me. Either way, I would not live to see tomorrow and my parents had a huge yard and could easily hide my body for a long time.

We were escorted out of the store by an officer and placed in the back. Even though I knew I couldn’t get away, at least I tried and didn’t sit there like Katie, but when I looked at her, my heart broke.

She had been my best friend for 10 years and her parents insisted that their children, house, yard, clothes, job, grades and everything else be perfect. Perfect. There was no room for error.

Now Katie had done something that, in their eyes, would be unforgivable and I would be blamed once again for being a bad influence on her.

They were right. I was always wanting to have fun and break rules and now I had gone too far and my friend would probably never be allowed to talk to me and would end up grounded until she was 25. Maybe 35, if they had their way.

The officer went to Katie’s house first and walked her up to the front door and rang the bell. I laid down on the backseat. I couldn’t watch and I didn’t want her parents to see me. I was afraid it would make them angrier. I peaked as they grabbed her from the officer, thanked him and slammed the door. I watched as he walked towards the car.

It was my turn now.

He asked me where I lived and I told him. Apathy had set in and I knew it was hopeless.

As he pulled up to the front of my car and unfastened his seat belt, I saw the boy of my dreams walking up the street. I gasped and may have let out a small scream. Steven was going to see me being pulled out of a cop car and the boy I had loved madly for the last 2 years would tell everyone in school and I would never live it down.

I dove for the floor of the back seat and pleaded with the officer to wait a moment.

“Why? No matter how long we wait, I’m walking you up to the front door.”

“You see that boy walking up the street?”

“Yes.”

I took a deep breath. This was so humiliating. “I don’t want him to see me do this. Please, can you just wait until he’s gone?”

“Yes. Stay down there and I’ll let you know when he’s gone.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “Thank you” was all I could muster.

A few minutes passed and I’m not sure I breathed.

“OK, he’s gone. The coast is clear,” he said and I actually chuckled for a moment.

He let me out of the car and then put his arm around my shoulders and looked at me. I looked up and he had the kindest face. I had not looked at him before.

“Susan, have you learned your lesson? Have you?” he asked as he smiled.

I nodded. “It was stupid, I know and…”

“Shush. Listen to me for a second. We all do things that have consequences. Your stupid prank could have turned out a lot worse. You got lucky.”

I hugged him. I don’t know why, but I did. In an afternoon of complete insanity, here was a moment of kindness and compassion. He hugged me back. “You ready?”

“Yes,” I said and we walked up to my front door. He rang the doorbell and I waited. My Mom answered the door and saw me standing there with a cop. She was confused as I had never caused any trouble before.

“Ma’am I’m Officer Jones and I was wondering if I could come in for a few minutes?”

My Mom let us in and was glaring at me but was also confused. Officer Jones explained what had happened and told my Mom that I was sorry and realized that it had been a stupid stunt. My Mom never said a word and just listened. He thanked her and turned around to leave. After he opened the door, he looked at me and smiled. “You’re going to be OK,” closed the door and drove off.

My Mom asked what had happened and I told her. My Dad came in and listened. I was so distraught that I think that I had been through enough punishment for one day. All they said was to never do it again and that was that as it was apparent I had learned my lesson.

Katie didn’t fare so well. She was grounded for a month and wasn’t allowed to talk to me. That meant nothing to me, so I would find her  in school and have lunch with her. For one month we made sure her parents never saw us together and we never called each other. After a month, her Mom had the audacity to call me and tell me “It’s OK if you come over now and see Kaitlin” as if she was doing me a favor. I told her I would be over if and when I felt like it. I heard her gasp and she probably shook her head and prayed for me that night.

Like I care.

Ever since that day, even over 40 years later, whenever my Mom and I drive by that department store, she smacks me on the arm and tells me if I go in there, I will get arrested. Sometimes she will pull into the parking lot and we will go into the store and look around.

In the background, I always hear her laughing and then telling me what a great kid I turned out to be and how proud she is of me.

“Let’s see if they kick us both out,” she says and this always gets me to laugh.

I love my Mom.

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My friend’s first internet date. Oh geez….

Posted on February 29, 2012 by Susan Lewis

This is a story from a dear friend of mine. We were recently emailing each other back and forth. She had just signed-up for some dating sites and was nervous, and rightly so. She knew of my experiences in this field, so I’ve been coaching her along as best as I can.

This is her email to me. I knew it had been a bad date but she decided to tell me her story via email. I’m glad she did because she gave me permission to post it. I didn’t start laughing until finished reading it because…my jaw was dropped too far down my face to make a sound.

My friend is a wonderful, smart, gracious woman who has found herself  in the situation of wanting to date again and not knowing how to go about it. When you read this, keep in mind how nice and sweet my friend is. She hates to hurt anyone’s feelings, as most of us do. When we go silent on a date, you’re done for. I advised her to just not respond back to this man and let it die the death it needs too. She lives in the UK and anyone would be proud to know her, such as I am.

Men – take note. You have a very rare opportunity to be privy to a real conversation between two women discussing something that we would never let you know about - MEN.

Here are her words:

“My ex has IBS” and other things maybe not wise to say on a first date.

Well I did it. After years of being on my own I joined an internet dating site (or 3). I’m lonely and need someone to have a drink with who I may possibly end up snogging the face off of. Hey it may be even more, at the end of the evening. With any luck.

Ok so after a month or so on the site(s) I finally got a bite (in a manner of speaking). Amongst all those with names like “nicebum” “Icanmakeuhapy” “lookin4me?” “wannaplzu” and “cum&getme” and those who can’t string a sentence together I found Mike. Mike  seemed fine. We chatted for a couple of weeks or so. Most days. OK, every day. We had a lot in common and the conversations were good. His picture was a little odd in that it wasn’t that easy to get a fix on his looks. I found him on Facebook (though didn’t add) and again he had an out of focus shot which as far as I could see looked extremely different. However the conversation was good for the most part although he had a tendency to talk about himself a lot. Or when he did it was difficult to get him to stop.

A date was arranged. “Ok let me do this,” I thought:

 ”How bad could it really be?”

First warnings:

1)     Couldn’t text me because he was out of credit….ok I can cope with that, he emailed me just before I left to say:

2)     He had eaten dinner and:

3)     What he would be wearing and:

4)     The fact that he hadn’t shaved because he was out of shaving gel.

 
I stood outside the prearranged meet spot and looked hopefully around for a man in jeans and a blue jumper. One who was “carrying just a little extra weight” and ruggedly stubbly. A few possibilities walked on by.

Appearing in front of me was one squattish very rounded individual who looked either like he had been out in the rain or had not washed his hair for a decade, I couldn’t decide which. On balance I would say the latter. The idea of the rugged look was obliterated by the “cant be bothered to shave and another few days and I would look like a yeti” look. I looked around nervously…did I know anyone in the vicinity? I would never ever live this down if I saw anyone familiar. But hey….how bad could it really be?


Then he spoke…”whatcha awwwroight”. Oh my freeking heck! I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Please I can’t do this,” I thought. This is not the kind of conversation we had online; this must be an imposter. I can’t see this person having the same cultural interests as me….maybe he read my profile and did some online research on subjects before contacting me.

But sadly it seems I am a nice person and thought I would at least go through with the film that we were going to see. A comedy, although by the looks of it all the laughs (albeit mortified ones) would not be on the screen this evening. He reached in for the obligatory “hello” kiss on the cheek thing and I ensured that it didn’t hit its target.

Looking about the shops and cafes around us were closed. There was the pub or McDonald’s. He of course had already eaten, I hadn’t mistakenly believing that as we were meeting an hour and a half or so before the film, if indeed we did go to the film, we may just be able to pick something up. No he didn’t want to go to the pub as it was full of young people. And too loud. And he didn’t drink.

We went to get the tickets in advance. Ok, “we” is an exaggeration. Cue him standing by. No sign of him offering to pay. Not an issue with me, although he is the one working of course ( I don’t at the moment). However I still don’t know how he engineered me putting my card in to pay for the tickets. He didn’t even offer to be paying me back for his at this point. I was somewhat bemused and we made our way to McDonald’s.

There were cafes within a few minutes walk that were open, however it seems a coffee in one of those nice places was the height of sophistication.. “Oim awways takin me son in McDonald’s.” I bought myself a cup of tea and some fries. He bought himself a coffee. We found the last table in the place. And now it was conversation time. How bad could it be?


Ok well I can’t remember a lot of the conversation. And that is probably a good thing. Let us just say that every question he asked me (which I think probably amounted to two or three at this point) was met with me saying about two words and them him butting in and taking over. I think I may have said a total of about 40 words in the hour and a bit we were sat there. There were lots of discussions (albeit one-sided) about food.

I explained I was allergic to fish. He looked at me with concern. I thought  “Oh he is actually listening. Then he said “What would happen if you kissed someone who had eaten fish?  It’s just I had fish and chips for tea”.

“Don’t worry, I am in no danger,” I nearly said. But I am too polite. “What happens if you eat it? Do you go all blotchy? I ask because, well….my ex has Irritable Bowel Syndrome she gets really bad diarrhea when she gets it too.”

I looked down at my fries….. I then was treated to a detailed description of how his son is being turned against him and won’t come and stay over anymore and all the intricacies of his issues with his ex’s new husband, the schools, parking tickets, lack of money, work problems. But mainly his ex’s diarrhea and issues that he has with just about the whole world.

I felt sick.

Finally and painfully, it was time to make our way back to the cinema. I wanted some sweets. I got a very small amount as “Oi’ll get this” was tempered with him telling me how I should have gotten it in the supermarket earlier that day as it was so expensive at the cinema.

It’s a bag of sweets mate…not caviar.

He then proceeded to ask for a “Cheeky monkey” ice cream milk shake costing 3 times as much. It’s called “Chunky Monkey.” He couldn’t  even get that right. Heck, even the little things were getting very, very annoying. I went to the ladies and texted my friends and updated my Facebook with a”Rescue me please!” message to my friends from my iPhone. I was in there a while but knew I just had to go and sit with this man for the next couple of hours. I was already stressing that other people coming into the complex would be met with a video screen of the different cinema audiences and may be able to pick me out.

The adverts before the film were “funny”….they were however not “funny” enough in my opinion to warrant a loud running commentary or laughter that sounded like a cross between a hyena and well…another load of hyenas really. Mortifying. Totally mortifying.

I toyed with the idea of going to the ladies room again and not coming back. But I am, it seems, too polite. And I wanted to see the film. I had paid enough for the damn tickets. I surreptitiously kept looking at my phone (updating Facebook texting friends) and giving one word answers to anything he said (not much and the single word responses seemed to be sufficient for his purposes). He didn’t seem to care.

The film started. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that each on-screen joke and even just a piece of slightly amusing dialogue was met with a huge roar of laughter and the odd snort. OK a lot of snorts. I wanted to go home.

Part way through I heard snoring. Someone was asleep. I looked around and saw it wasn’t anyone asleep, it was his breathing. And his elbow was trying to touch mine. I really wanted to go home but I didn’t want to leave the cinema because I would then have to deal with that having to talk to him/awkward end of the evening thing. “Please let me stay here and make the film go on forever…”

And so the titles went up and I got up. We left and I fished in my bag for my car parking ticket. There was silence. Then there was  a desperate attempt at a conversation from him. I played lip service and inwardly cursed my decision to wear a skirt and stockings because I was cold. I thought about how I will get out of this without any further embarrassment. If I kept ignoring him, I thought, surely he would get the hint. This couldn’t have been a fun evening for him either. I was totally the worst date ever or had tried to make myself that.

He came with me to my car. He stood there and put his hand in his pocket. And counted out the exact change he needed to pay me back for his ticket (minus the sweets). Then he said he had a fantastic time. I said nothing. I had however ignored him since the diarrhea discussion and done all in my power to make him never want to speak to me again. However the polite side of me appeared again and I apologized for my being caught up on my phone but said my child was ill and the sitter was contacting me for instructions. I don’t know why I didn’t just say “you aren’t my type.” I should have just put him out of his misery.

“Are we still on to meet up Wednesday?” he asked, completely oblivious to the sheen of boredom appearing over my eyes.  Could I say it? No I still couldn’t. I fudged it and said I was worried about my child and didn’t know.

“If you delete me from contacts I will know you aren’t interested in meeting again” he said giving me the opening I needed. I still couldn’t do it. What am I some kind of idiot? I said the film had been good and it was nice to meet him. He reached in for a peck on the cheek (or maybe more) and I moved my head so he missed. Again.

I shut the door and stayed in the car texting friends and updating Facebook until I was sure he had left the car park. I was worried he may follow me. OK not really but I can’t take any chances.

He can’t text me for the moment..  Thank God.  He has no credit. He has left me an email (to my anonymous account so he doesn’t have my name) and a message on the site saying he had a fab time.

I am trying to formulate a put down. I am trying not to hurt his feelings. Hell knows why. I am too polite. How hard can it be to say “Do you know what? No, not ever, No. No No, to someone you never have to see again….

Just how hard can it be?

These are my words because apparently they need to be said:

1) Please shower and clean-up before you go out on a date.

2) If you don’t have money and/or are unemployed, most of us don’t care. We really don’t. We just want to have a nice evening out. Tell us that and a good woman will figure out a nice place to meet and just have a cup of coffee.

3) NEVER EVER talk about your ex-anything! If she asks (which she shouldn’t do on the first few dates) just smile sweetly and say “I have nothing but nice things to say about her” and change the subject.

4) We know within seconds of meeting you what we think and what we want.  Don’t argue with me on this point. I’m a woman and I know.

5) When a woman goes quiet on a date, you’ve blown it. Try getting her to talk and then SHUT THE HELL UP and don’t say anything.

6) Say NOTHING about your attraction to her. We get it. We really do.

7) If you can reach her mind, you can later reach her soul. Maybe.

These are just a few things that come to mind when I read my friend’s email. I don’t want her to give up and I don’t want her to feel that she had done anything wrong. She hasn’t. This just wasn’t the guy for her and that’s why we date.  Hopefully she will soon be laughing about this because that’s all you can do sometimes. Have an adventure, pat yourself on the back for stepping up to the plate and laugh about how funny life can be. And then go do it again.

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The day I got kicked out of a “Men’s Only” club. It wasn’t my fault, really.

Posted on February 28, 2012 by Susan Lewis

No it wasn’t.

I didn’t mean to cause anyone so much upset just because I walked into a club with a vagina.

Had I known it would have upset them so much, I would have left it at home.

But I was on the road and had arranged to meet my friends halfway. I had gotten lost and this was years before cell phone existed, so you had to do the old-fashioned thing – stop somewhere and get directions and hope everyone made it.

I was going along on the freeway and was on a section of it that goes through a very expensive and exclusive part of the Bay Area. Everywhere you looked were these beautiful hills, huge houses and a golf course that has a lake.

Just the kind of area that you knew they made their money either in the high-tech field or they were all drug dealers. Maybe both, by the looks of their houses and gated communities.

I was born and raised here, so being out in this area was nothing new to me. So you think I would know where I was going, how to get there and how to give correct directions.

Not true. I had been driving up and down the same stretch of highway, trying to find the location I told my friends to meet me at. Apparently it no longer existed and now I was beginning to think it never had.

I finally pull off the freeway and followed a road up a small hill because I could see that there was some sort of business there and I figured they would know where I was trying to go. Plus the next gas station was over 20 miles away, so up the hill I went.

I pulled into the parking lot and looked around. I was a bit panicked because I was already 30 minutes late and confused. It was a small building and there were several cars in the parking lot. I saw that the sign said it was some type of country club and I figured it had to do with the golf course that was running through the area.

I walked into the lobby and looked around. I was in the reception area and no one was around, but it was beautifully furnished and pleasant. I pulled back my mane of hair and tied it back. I had been driving with the windows down and under normal circumstances my hair is out of control. The wind had made it worse and I didn’t want to scare anyone.

I walked up to the counter and waited. I was tapping my fingers and getting more and more concerned about how late I was in meeting my friends when a man came out from an office, saw me and stopped. Dead in his tracks and stared at me. I immediately checked to make sure I had tied all my hair back and quickly looked down to see if my blouse had gotten unbuttoned and my breasts were hanging out. No, my girls were fine, I was decently dressed and my zipper was zipped. I looked back up at him and said hello.

“You can’t be here. You’re not allowed in here, so you better go.”

“Huh? What did you say? What do you mean?” was all I could figure out to say. He wasn’t making any sense at all.

“This is a club for men only and you’re not a man, so you have to go.”

I shook my head. This can’t be right. “Really? You figured that out all by yourself. What gave me away? My hair? My breasts? What tipped you off?” I couldn’t help it. The man was an idiot.

“Don’t get smart with me,” he said as he hurriedly scooted (yes, scooted) past me and opened the front door and motioned for me to leave.

“No,” I said and folded my arms across the breasts that had given me away. “You can’t make me leave. This is a free country and I only stopped here to get directions.”

“Look here young lady, only men can be here,” he said and then made a sweeping motion with his arm to get me to leave.

I was furious. Never in my life had I ever heard these words before. I grew-up in a country club as a kid and I was well aware of the subtle discrimination that some people had towards women or minorities or people who were deemed not good enough because of their income level and/or job.

I was also raised with a family that would have no part of that and threatened to sell their membership if the unspoken rules weren’t changed to allow people of all walks of life to join. They changed the rules and I learned how messed up some people can be that think they are better than anyone else.

So, no one was going to kick me out of anywhere and certainly not this little pip squeak that I could easily drop-kick across the parking lot.

“I just want directions to this place I am supposed to meet my friends. That’s all I want, but now I want to stay here. You can’t bar me from this place just because I have a uterus. I think that’s against the law, if I’m not mistaken.”

He turned beet red. I think the word “uterus” did him in. He got flustered and looked around and then closed the door and walked back behind the counter and picked up the phone. I felt a moment of panic as I saw myself in the back of a police car and spending the night in a holding cell because of using the word “uterus” without written permission.

But he wasn’t calling the police. He whispered to someone that there was “a situation” in the lobby. I sort of liked being referred to as “a situation.”

I then heard voices behind the closed-door. I smiled and walked up to the door and opened it. I think he squealed a bit.

Sitting there were about six men, playing cards, drinking and having a good old-time. They looked up when I came in and everyone stopped talking and just stared at me.

“Sorry to interrupt your game, but I am lost and I was hoping someone could give me directions.”

You would have thought that I looked like an alien that just stepped off of a space ship that landed in the parking lot. No one said a word and I just stood there. I cleared my throat and looked back at them.

The idiot behind the counter had hung-up the phone and rushed in behind me. Fortunately, for him, he did not touch me or try to haul me out of the room. He was babbling something about it not being his fault.

They were just a bunch of old, fat, white men that had nothing better to do than have a little club to play poker. I don’t have a problem with that but I do have a problem with someone telling me I can’t be somewhere.

One of them spoke up and asked me what I wanted. I told him and he gave me directions. He knew just what I was talking about. I thanked him and then said I thought it was illegal to have a club like their’s and didn’t appreciate being treated like crap.

No one said anything and that was my cue to leave.

When I finally met-up with my friends a few minutes later, I told them the story. They wanted to get their pitchforks and go storm the place.

I wanted food and wine.

I wanted to change the world, right then and there, but I couldn’t. I did, however, stayed where someone said I couldn’t, got what I wanted, said my peace and then left on my own terms.

I always think about this when I drive on that section of freeway. I think the next time I do, I will stop in and say hello.

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Should I wait for dessert or climb out the bathroom window now?

Posted on February 23, 2012 by Susan Lewis

This was the question I kept asking myself the entire time I was sitting across from Richard during dinner.

It was our first date (and our last though he didn’t know that) and even though I had just met him, I knew he didn’t have a shot at me. Based on the way he was acting, he obviously thought it was a foregone conclusion that he did have a chance. That much was apparent by the way he looked at me. I was tempted at one point to just flash him my breasts and get it over with but that didn’t seem like the right thing to do. But part of me wanted him to know EXACTLY what he was never going to get.

I really should not date.

The reasons I knew this so quickly were several. The first goof he made was mentioning my height.

“Wow, how tall are you?” he asked.

“I’m 5’7”. Why?”

“You seem much taller.”

I look down at my feet and back at him. He knew my height before we met. It’s part of the mating ritual. “Well Richard, sometimes we women wear something called high heels. You ever hear of those?”

Snort. “Oh, yeah, I see,” he says as he looks down at my feet. “You have very pretty feet. Do you like to have them rubbed?”

Major red flag but I maintained my composure. “We’ll see,” was about the only answer I could muster.  I was hungry and I can suffer through many things when I am. I decided not to bail yet. I really do not like to be rude, even when provoked.

We sit down for dinner and the waiter asks us if we would like anything to drink. I almost shout my drink order. Richard gives him his and then…he…dismisses…the…waiter…with…a…wave…of…his…hand….

Oh no, he did not! I cringe and smile at the waiter.

I settle back and try to convince myself that I am having fun, that he is probably a nice man and is just nervous. I ask him how his day went.

“Well, first of all, it took me forever to get here. The traffic was horrible, so I am hoping it will all be worth it.”

“Probably not,” was all I could say as I took a VERY large gulp of my margarita. “I hate my life” was all I could think.

He smiles. “The night is still young. You do know, don’t you, that I am quite a catch.”

I almost laughed out loud, but he had such a serious look on his face that I managed to maintain my composure. “Is that right? Now why is that?” He didn’t know me well enough to catch the sarcasm.

“Yes I am,” he says as he takes out his phone and starts to show me pictures of the house he owns in San Francisco. He has about 10 different shots of it. “You see, I own this house and I’m retired, so I have property and that’s a really good thing. You know, the last six dates I was on, all the women proposed to me. Seriously, they did. On the first date.”

“What did they propose, exactly?”

He laughs and reaches across the table and puts his hand on my arm and holds it. “I do love your sense of humor.”

“Me too. It helps me not to go insane on a daily basis. Sometimes hourly,” I say as I pull my arm away and take another slam of my drink.

The waiter comes back over and asks us if we are ready to order. I lost my appetite somewhere during this, but I didn’t care. I ordered a huge steak with potatoes, salad with Ranch dressing and asked that it all be topped off with a ton of onions and garlic. Lots of onions and garlic.

Richard raises an eyebrow. “You sure that’s a good idea, the onions and garlic, because…..”

Then he winked! He winked at me!

“I am positive that it’s the best idea I’ve had all week,” I say as I hand the waiter my menu and sit back with my arms crossed.

“Well then, I’ll have the same,” he says and smiles. I hate his smile now. I hate his dyed hair and his smug look.

“Did I tell you about the car accident I had recently?”

I sigh. “No, you sure didn’t. I can hardly wait it hear it,” I say as I signal the waiter for another drink.

He then proceeds to tell me about getting rear-ended in San Francisco. By now dinner has arrived and I start jamming the food down my throat. I figure as long as I am doing that, I’m not obligated to say anything. This was a good idea of mine, so I just kept chewing away while he talked.

“I’m at this stop sign and this idiot rear ends me and shoves me into the car in front of me. I get out and the asshole can barely speak English. You know how maddening that is. So it ends up my car is totaled and at least he has insurance, but I was hurt. My airbag deployed and I ended up needing surgery on my shoulder. Here, let me show you,” he says.

He then begins to take off his shirt – I am not kidding, as God as my witness, I am not – and starts to show me the scars on his arm, shoulder and across his chest. I stopped him when he started to take his under shirt off.  There really is just so much I can take.

“No!” I scream. “Please don’t do that. I believe you,” I say as I thrust my arm across the table and stop him.

“Oh, sorry. So anyway, now I”m suing his ass because I think I’m worth it. I am a good person who didn’t do anything wrong and he should pay. He should pay, right?”

“Right! God damn morons! They let anyone drive now days. Son of a bitch!” I shout. He smiles.

The waiter comes over and clears our table. It’s time for my getaway and I can hardly wait. I really need to use the bathroom and just as I am excusing myself, Richard orders dessert. For both of us. With coffee.

“You need to get a little meat on your bones. I like that in a woman.”

I smile. “So do I,” and walk away. I hear the waiter chuckle and I smile back at him and roll my eyes.

I get to the bathroom and look around. There is a very small window that if I crawl through, I can come out the other side of the parking lot and run. If I time it right, he won’t see me walk by since we are sitting next to a window. Maybe when I get near the window, I can just crawl underneath it.

I stare at the window. It’s too small and I’m afraid I’ll get stuck, which would not be a good way to end another date from hell. I go back to the table, head down but telling myself it will all be over soon.

 I hadn’t said much at all during the last two hours and yet I felt exhausted. I also had to listen to his story about his daughter and everyone else in his family. He had never asked me one question or showed any interest in me at all. That was fine. I didn’t want to know him any longer. I had behaved myself and I was done.

While we were walking out, I quietly gave the waiter a large tip. Richard had been so rude to him and I figured he probably didn’t tip well either. The waiter smiled and I smiled back.

Walking me to my car, he put his arm around my waist very tightly. This gave him a very high creep factor and I felt myself turn into dead weight. Twenty more feet to go and I would be free and clear.

“Well, thank you for such a nice dinner Richard. It was most interesting and I’m glad I got to meet you,” I said very formally. Translation – “Don’t ever touch me or call me again” but I did say this with a very sweet smile on my face as I opened the car door.

He stopped me from opening the door further, put his hands on my shoulder and then guided me a few feet away. He told me to stand still and then stepped up onto a curb so he could be taller than me.

I wanted to knee him in his nuts but doubted he had any.

He then leaned forward to kiss me and I stepped to the right and watched him fall off the curb and slam into my car.

Justice was mine!

I thanked him for dinner, jumped in my car and waved as I drove off. He waved back at me while he rubbed his knee that he hit with my car.

Needless to say, I never did return his phone calls and text messages except the first one where I texted back “Find someone else to impress and be sure to leave your shirt on during dinner.”

The steak was awesome, though.

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My first internet date. Kill me now.

Posted on February 21, 2012 by Susan Lewis

I “met” someone online a few years ago and it was one of the worst dating experiences in my life. It was so bad, I never told anyone about it. This person’s name was Adam and he knew Patty who knew Marcia who knew Samantha who knew me. I don’t know any of these people except Samantha, who still hasn’t heard the end of my wrath for putting Adam in contact with me.

I was turning 50 and was looking forward to it. I truly mean this; I actually like getting older. Adam was given my email address, with my permission, and that is how we met. I figured since it had been awhile since I had dated, meeting someone new would be a great birthday present to myself.

 Even though I enjoyed getting older, there were a few surprises about it I hadn’t expected such as my metabolism shutting down completely and finding 20 extra pounds were added to my hips, butt, stomach and thighs overnight. Some fat fairy came, waved a wand while I was sleeping and I woke-up, unable to fit into my jeans. It took a year to lose that weight because in addition to waving a wand to make me gain weight, the little bitch fairy also decided it would be fun to have my metabolism start to work in reverse.

So I began my workouts and walking and watching calories and nothing changes. Not one damn thing changes for over 6 weeks. Then one day, I saw the scale (all scales are evil) actually move a billionth of an inch to the left! Oh Dear God! One year later I am back to my fighting weight.

I had not dated in a few years because I hate it. I hate it so much I can’t describe it. I hate the awkwardness of it, I hate the fact that I am actually hoping someone likes me and that drives me crazy because I never care if someone likes me. If they don’t, it bothers me for about 1 minute and then I’m fine.

I hate getting ready for a date and finding myself feeling like I am 13 years old again and no one wants to be 13 again. I hate finding out that the person I am spending all evening with isn’t someone I want to spend all evening with. I suck at small talk and I hate spending hours trying to behave myself, not snort when I laugh, not be able to eat my food really fast (which is the way I eat) and worrying if something is stuck in my teeth. I never worry about these things when I am at home. I like being alone. I like spending time with myself and my pets, watching a good movie and talking on the phone. I like sitting in bed all morning, reading and drinking coffee and not having to close the bathroom door, ever.

But Samantha tells me about this guy and based on 3 other women’s opinions, I agree and give out my email address.

A few days later, his email arrives and I read it. His name is Adam and I see his picture attached to his email. Shit! I realize. I have to send a picture back and don’t have any. Maybe he won’t ask.

So the mating ritual starts. He tells me all about himself and I can see his face, but then he tells me he is 5’3” tall. What? I think. I am 5’ 7”! And I love wearing high heels and I’m not changing my ways this late in the game.

I pride myself on accepting people “just as they are” and I can hear the thoughts in my head about how short he is. I remind myself not to judge people but he’s so short! I tell myself that it’s all about “the person inside” but he’s so short! I tell myself that it’s good to get out once in a while and meet people but he’s so frickin’short!

Why didn’t anyone tell me he was so short? Probably because they are better people than me and can see past how short he is!

I decide to be a good person and not let this bother me. I mean, lots of men have dated and married taller women, right? Besides, we are just talking about maybe meeting one day and nothing more, right?

We begin a lengthy email and phone relationship over the next few weeks. He lives in Kansas and seems to be a very nice man. He begins calling me almost every night and this starts to bother me. I start to get a sense of obligation to him as if I have to be home or available every time he calls. It’s not that I mind talking to him; it’s that I mind him just assuming I am always around.

So I start not answering the phone every time he calls. Not to be mean, just to get out of this habit I have become to him. He starts leaving messages and sending more emails. I respond once in a while and this prompts him to decide to come out and meet me. This I did not expect, but I guess this is how this whole email dating goes.

He tells me he wants to come out for a weekend and we could meet and spend time together. I agree because, well the truth of the matter is, I am bored. We agree on a weekend and he makes his travel arrangements.

“There is something I should tell you about myself” he says one night. I feel myself get tense because it does not sound good.

“Yeah? What is that?” I ask. I know at this point he is about to tell me something horrible, like he is a Nazi or a convicted felon. I hold my breath and wait.

“I have this problem with my nose.”

Huh? I think. What the hell does that mean?

“I see. What do you mean? You have a nose, right? I saw your picture and I distinctly remember seeing a nose.”

He chuckles. “Yes, I have a nose. You are really funny!”

I feel my eyes rolls up. “Thanks” I say.

“Anyway, years ago when I was little, I broke it. Ever since then, smells really bother me. It’s like my nose is overdrive and I can’t tolerate most smells, like perfume and cigarettes.”

Cigarettes? I think as I look at the lit one I am holding in my left hand.

“I’m really glad you don’t smoke.”

This is the exact point where I hit the crossroad. It’s the crossroad I dread. It’s the crossroad where I have to decide to truly be myself and talk honestly or where I decide to try to be the person this guy is looking for.

It’s the crossroad where everything I have believed I throw out the window because here I am sitting in my tiny living room, 50 and alone with no prospects or where I tell myself that my situation doesn’t bother me and I love my life just the way it is. It’s where I make the decision about whom I really am and what I want or do I take door #2 and try to “get with the program” and find someone to be with.

“Hey, you still there?” he asks.

“Yes, sorry, the cat just did something funny.” Cough. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“You have cats? That’s too bad because I’m really allergic to them.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take them out tonight and shoot them.”

Long pause. Then he laughs and tells me again how much he enjoys my sense of humor.

“Yes, so you have said before” I say as I quickly stub out my cigarette.

I suddenly feel as if my Dad has just caught me smoking and I’m 16 again. I forgot for a moment that I am on the phone and he can’t see me. Just my dog and cats, which are staring at me reproachfully. They are the only ones that can do that and get away with it.

He then proceeds to tell me all about the problems he has with being so sensitive to smells. He doesn’t use anything that is scented and goes to great lengths to stay away from anything with any type of scent, such as perfumes, deodorants, shampoos and conditioners, all cleaning products, lotions and he says he can’t even tolerate the smell of make-up on women.

  Make-up? Oh dear, I think.

“Wow” I say, “that must be really tough on you.”

“Yes, it does make things more difficult for me.”

So, this was my warning shot. This was the red flag. This was knowing that there would be no way in hell I could stand to be around this man. As nice as he is, I would never in a million years, give up my make-up, heels and beauty routine for anyone. I’m in my 50′s!

I proceed the chain smoke throughout the rest of the conversation, being very careful not to have the phone near my mouth while I inhale and exhale.

He then tells me when he can come out to California and I light up another cigarette and tell him that works for me.

 I hang-up and throw myself down on the couch, rub my eye and heave a deep sigh. I am so screwed now.

For a few weeks before he arrives, I air out my apartment, scrub the walls, wash the curtains and wash every piece of clothing that I own. I keep the windows down in my car to air it out and the day before he arrives, I have it detailed.

  I meet him at the airport on a Saturday morning. When I see him, he is even shorter than he said. He said he was 5’3”, but he is closer to 5’2”. He waves and he also looks 15 years older than his picture.

 He is hauling his suitcase and I am tempted to carry it for him, but I resist. I go to shake his hand as he leans over to hug me and I poke him in the eye. He says he is fine and we walk to my car. I am wearing tennis shoes and still looking down on him. I feel horrible for what I am thinking and the more I try not to think that way, the more I do.

 We get in the car and I ask him where he is staying. He gives me a blank look and says he hadn’t thought about it. I realize that he planned on staying with me! No way is that going to happen, but I let it pass and say “Well, there are plenty of hotels and motels around here. Let’s go find you one.”

We spend the next 4 hours driving up and down El Camino Real so he can go and smell the rooms before he decides to register. He finally finds one and only after I told him I was tired, hungry and unwilling to spend another moment going to hotels and smelling their rooms.

I did not know at the time that this would be the high point of his visit.

We go out to dinner at a Mexican restaurant, but he had me wait in line for him so he could go stand in the parking lot because someone who was also waiting for a table was wearing perfume.

He took 45 minutes to order his dinner and kept the waitress standing there the entire time as he asked very detailed questions about each item on the menu. Every time she would answer his question, he would nod his head and then take another minute to ask the next question. She would look at me, pleading for me to do something, but all I could do was shrug my shoulders.

He brought his own bottled water and had to wipe the entire chair and table with a handkerchief before he would sit down. I didn’t know what to say and in hindsight, there wasn’t anything to say.

I did the best I could to keep the conversation going, but it was useless. We had great conversations on the phone, but when actually faced with meeting him and spending time with him, I had nothing to say. I could never remember meeting such a prissy and feminine man before in my life and any initial attraction was gone. In fact, I found him very annoying and unfriendly. He appeared to be attracted to me and this increased my annoyance and displeasure, but I decided to make the best out of a bad situation and tried to be as polite and friendly as possible. But I was so disappointed that this wasn’t turning out as well as I had hoped.

I know that when you are single, you make the best of it and it is often a relief to be out of a bad marriage or relationship, but there is always a part of you that wishes for the real thing. We tell ourselves that we like being single (and very often I do) but in the back of your mind, there is always hope and that’s why we date. We date because we haven’t completely given up and curiosity will get the best of us when there is a possibility.

So I sat there, disappointed and a bit sad, but not hopeless. Just felt like I was wasting my time.

With dinner over, we walk back to my car and he takes my hand. My first thought was to pull it away, but I didn’t. I just smiled and kept walking. As we drive to his hotel, he asks me to come in. I am dying for a cigarette and don’t want to spend another moment with him, so I tell him I am exhausted. Just then I realize that he is here for the weekend to visit with me and I am stuck with him. There is no way to get out of this, so I tell him I need some sleep and I’ll see him in the morning. He leans over to kiss me and I turn my face so he ends up kissing my cheek.

 I get home and immediately go across the street to the store and buy a pack of cigarettes and smoke several outside my apartment. I am dreading tomorrow as we are spending the day in San Francisco.

 He calls me later that night to say goodnight.

 “I had a really nice time tonight and I’m glad I came out to see you” he says.

 “Yeah, me too. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at 9:00. How does that sound?”

 “Sounds great. I miss you already” he says and as soon as I hear that, I light up another cigarette and pray for a hurricane so that I don’t have to see him tomorrow.

 I pick him up the next morning and he tries to kiss me again.

 “Would you please just stop trying to do that?” I ask. I can’t believe how some people just can’t take a hint.

 “Gosh, I guess you got up on the wrong side of the bed today” he says and walks over to my car. I decide that if I am going to kill him, this would not be the right place. Too many witnesses and I’m not sure he’s worth going to jail for.

 We take off and hit the freeway. He kept giving me detailed instructions on what lane to drive in because the car in front of us had too many fumes coming out. About the fifth time he did that, I held up my right hand and made a fist.

 “You see this fist? If you tell me one more time how to drive, what to do or anything else, this fist is coming across and hitting you on your nose.”

 “I just love your sense of humor! Hey, move out of this lane, will ya? That truck is really making me sick.”

 We go to Fisherman’s Wharf but can’t stay there because of the smell. He didn’t like Pier 39 because there were too many people wearing after shave or cologne. He didn’t want to eat at any place I picked because it smelled. We ended up getting hot dogs and eating on a park bench and only because I insisted and was starving.

I realize this is one of the worse days of my life but it is almost over. A couple more hours and he is back at his hotel and I’ll never have to see him again. I am thinking this just as a young girl walks by with a cropped top and showing off her perfectly flat stomach. He watches her walk by and then turns to me.

“I have a question for you. How long would it take you to get your stomach to look like that?”

Without missing a beat, I say “About as long as it would take you to grow 6 inches” and I get up, grab my purse and start walking away. He jumps up and starts to follow me.

I turn around and stop. “I don’t think so. You are on your own. Have a nice flight back” and start walking again. He keeps running after me, apologizing and begging me to stop and talk to him. I was deaf to anything he had to say.

I get to my car, unlock the driver side, and get in. He is banging on the passenger side, asking me to please open the door and let him in.

 “I can’t. My stomach is too fat to lean over and unlock the door” I say as I drive away.

 Within a minute, he is calling my cell phone. I ignore it all the way home. I am fighting back tears and bouts of rage. If ever I could be violent, it was now, so I figured the best thing is to just get away from him and write it off as a bad day.

 I finally turn my phone off because he won’t stop calling. I can see he is leaving messages, but I don’t care. I never want to hear from him again, I never want to hear his voice and I don’t want to know him.

 I finally listen to his messages 3 days later and heard all his crying. He left over 5 messages while in San Francisco, 1 from the taxi home from San Francisco, 2 from his hotel room and 1 from the plane.

I am assuming he made it home

But ask me if I care.

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