Posts Tagged ‘dating’

That made him smile. He was even more adorable when he smiled. He poured each of us another shot. We quickly clinked our glasses and drank them in one gulp.

I could feel the tequila beginning to warm me. We were sitting by a fireplace in the bar we had stopped at. It had turned chilly and I was starving.

I never knew riding on the back of a Harley could be so much fun and exhausting at the same time. I was beginning to thaw and I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

Life was beginning to be fun again.

“So Susan, what are you doing with someone like me?” he asked as he brushed his long hair back.

He had gorgeous hair.

He had a gorgeous face.

He was an Adonis and he was mine for the weekend.

“Having fun. What are you doing with someone like me?” I asked and took a sip of my coffee.

He laughed. “I guess having fun.”

“Then we are agreed. This is just for fun, right?”

“Right,” he said but there was a hint of a question when he said it.

“What? You don’t believe me?” I leaned forward and rested my chin on my hand and looked at him.

My friend Nancy had introduced us. She had known him for a few years and when he walked into her store when I was there, we shook hands, chatted and then he left. Nancy began poking me on my arm as he walked out.

“What do you think?” she asked. She had that hopeful look on her face mixed with a mischievous grin.

“Him? He’s hot,” I said as I continued to look at the scarves she had on sale. I picked one out and handed it to her to ring it up. “I want this one,” I said.

“You are right. He is hot, but stay away from him,” she said as she rang up my purchase and put it in a shopping bag.

“Don’t even worry about it. I have no interest in dating anyone. Ever again. Never. Ever.”

“Oh, don’t say that Suz! You’ll find someone,” she said.

I sighed. Why do people always say that?

“Nancy, I love you but seriously, I don’t want anyone. I just got out of a loveless and sexless marriage that put me in financial ruin. The last thing I want to do is repeat that mistake again.”

“Well that’s good because guys like Christopher never settle down. He’s sweet but…”

“But what?” I asked. Now I was intrigued.

“He’s a bit wild. He’s also a bit younger than you, so…”

“So what? You think I’ve just shriveled up all of a sudden?” Now I was interested.

“No, not at all.”

I thought for a moment. “Just because I am no longer in my 30’s or even my 40’s doesn’t mean I’m dead!”

I had Nancy call Christopher and tell him to call me. He did immediately.

“You got a Harley?” I asked him one night on the phone.


“I want a ride on it,” I said.

“Whatever you want,” he said.

And here we were, relaxing, eating and drinking after an afternoon riding through the hills and along the coast. I had no plans on when to get home and neither did he.

We had been going out for several weeks and each time I had fun and loved being able to close my front door at night and be alone.

No one to answer to.

No one to criticize me or leave a mess in the kitchen for me to clean up.

I could own the remote and watch whatever I wanted.

Why didn’t anyone ever tell me how much fun being single could be?

And now, sitting across from him and feeling the warmth of the fire warm me on the outside and the tequila on the inside, I felt happy.

I was content and not waiting for the other shoe to drop because it didn’t exist.

“Yes I know you said this was just for fun, but it doesn’t always work out that way,” he said. He then mimicked me by leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand.

We were nose-to-nose.

“Stop talking and pour me another shot, please,” I said and leaned back.

“I have to ask you something,” he said and leaned back. His voice had turned serious.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Where do you see this relationship going?”

I thought I heard him wrong. I asked him to repeat his question again and he did.

I had heard right.

“What relationship?” I asked. “Didn’t we agree this would only be for fun?” I could feel myself start to back pedal and looking at the front door.

He was a heart breaker to women. I knew that and I didn’t care. Mine was on the shelf and no one had access to it, not matter how handsome or charming they were.

“Don’t you want more than fun? I mean, isn’t that what most women want? I keep waiting for you to push for a commitment or start asking me about what I do when I’m not around and shit like that?”

I laughed. “Oh, you mean you expect me to act like a young, silly and jealous woman?”

“Yes I do!” he said.

“Well, welcome to the joy and wonder of dating an older woman. We are a well-kept secret and we would like it to stay that way. Otherwise, we would be too busy with all you younger men to get anything done.”

It ended up being the best few months of my life.

And yes, I do have a big, shit eating grin on my face while I write this.

“Susan, you’re wrong.”

Posted: January 17, 2013 in Dating, funny stories
Tags: , ,

“I am?” I asked.

“Yes you are. No offense…”

“Oh, none taken,” I said as I rolled my eyes, leaned back into the booth and stretched my legs out. I took a long pull on my beer and waited. The evening had started to get interesting.

“Oh good. I mean, I know what I’m talking about and it would be good for you to listen to me.”

I snorted. “Oh, trust me Thomas, I am all ears,” I said and flashed the most brilliant smile that I could while I mentally chastised myself for agreeing to this blind date.

Thomas seemed like a nice man. Actually, he was. He was nice looking and had a profitable landscaping business and was considered quite a catch. He had been divorced for over a year and had decided to start dating again at the age of 50. It’s a tough thing to do for anyone at that age. Shit, it’s a tough thing at any age.

He apparently had seen me at a party a few weeks ago. I was there but only for a few minutes. I had stopped by my friend’s house to drop off a book and stayed for a quick drink before hitting the road for the weekend. He had asked who I was. My friend had agreed to call me for him and the rest, as they say, is history.

Sitting across from him at the restaurant, I had spent most of the evening listening to him tell me about his business, how successful it was and then the gory details of his divorce.

Rule #1 when dating – never, EVER discuss your ex. Ever. Shoot yourself in the foot and drink bleach before you even go near it. If you feel the urge to say something, stick a sharp object in your eye before uttering one word.

You will make a better impression with a steak knife hanging out of your eye than you will in slamming your ex.

For the love of God, trust me on this one.

But I had been polite and listened and nodded when it seemed appropriate and prayed that one of us would suddenly come down with severe food poisoning and have to leave.

But now, after hearing about what a bitch his ex was, he now felt entitled to tell me how to run my business.

I was suddenly fascinated in watching a train wreck unfold before my eyes.

I took another long pull of my beer and hoped it would hit my blood stream at any second and give me that warm, fuzzy and giggling moment that would make all of this seem like fun.

“Well, I’m glad that you are listening. So, the first thing you need to do with your job is admit the fact that you are somewhat limited because you are a woman.”

I choked on my beer. No, really, I actually did choke. I’m not making this up. I coughed and quickly put my hand over my nose and pinched my nostrils before it came out. That’s the worse thing when a beverage comes out of your nose and it’s carbonated. It hurts.

I grabbed a napkin and wiped my nose with it.

“So, Thomas, what you’re saying is because I have breasts and a uterus, I somehow can’t do my job as well as….a man? Is that right?”

“Yes, but it’s not your fault. I mean, it is just the way you were born. Oh, you have nice breasts, by the way.”

I looked down at my chest. I pulled my shirt out and kept looking. Yep, there they were. I still had them. I looked up at him and back down at my breasts. I pushed my shirt back towards my chest and smiled.

“So maybe if I got rid of them, I could be more…intelligent? Is that because I know when I try to think, all the blood rushes towards them?”

His smile froze on his face. He furrowed his brow. He thought for a moment and a confused look came over his face.

“What? Huh? That just…are you serious….I mean that doesn’t make any sense. Oh wait, you’re kidding, right?” he said and started laughing.

“No. I’m not. When I try to think, my breasts grow. Just like when you try to think and your dick gets hard. Same thing, ya know?”

“No! Wait! You aren’t making any sense.”

“Well neither are you. You just sat here and told me how wrong I am in the way I run my business, which you know nothing about, and then said it’s because I’m a woman as if that is some sort of disability or defect.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean it’s because women get all emotional and it will get in the way of your judgement. You’re twisting my words here and I don’t like that.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to twist your words. I’m trying to think and my breasts are getting bigger by the second and I am feeling a bit suffocated by them, so it’s probably the lack of oxygen going to my brain. I think I may be brain-damaged from my breasts,” I said.

I was pinching myself under the table to stop myself from laughing.

This was too much fun.

“Brain damaged? What are you talking about?”

“Thomas, now how can I answer a question about being brain-damaged IF I’M BRAIN DAMAGED? How is that supposed to work, huh?”

He rubbed his eyes and looked around.

“OK, I think I’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here…”

“No, you haven’t. You’re fine. I’m the one with the emotional breasts, remember?”

“Stop talking about your breasts! That’s not what I meant!” he said. His voice was loud and he was annoyed with me.

“What? You don’t like my breasts now? What’s wrong with them?”

“THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH YOUR BREASTS!” His voice was loud enough that several people turned and looked at him. A couple of men then looked at me and then at my breasts and gave me a thumbs up. I waved back at them, smiled and gave them a thumbs up.

“Thomas, now don’t start getting emotional on me. Pretty soon, you’ll be acting like a woman and embarrass me,” I said.

I stood up, got my purse and finished the last of my beer.

“Where are you going? You’re leaving? But I wanted to tell you more about what you should be doing with your business.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t stay. I have to go before I start thinking again because if I do…”

“Please, don’t say it. Don’t say a word, ever again, about your breasts…”

“Thomas, trust me, you’ll never have to worry about me talking to you ever again. Ever. You’re too emotional for me. You know, like a woman?”

Two men gave me high 5’s as I walked out. I declined their offers of having a drink with them. One said as I walked by “I don’t know what he was so upset about, but you look just fine to me.”

I stopped, smiled at him and kissed him on his cheek. “Thanks,” I said and left.

I never did return Thomas’ phone calls. If I’m so inferior to him, why waste his time?

(That last sentence needs a sarcasm font).

You know what a wink is? No? Well I’m going to tell you about one of the stupidest things ever invented for a dating website.

What it is, is you send it to someone who I think indicates you are interested BUT ARE TOO FRICKIN SCARED TO TALK TO!

WTF? I’m sorry, but this just drives me nuts. I mean, let’s get real here, shall we? Glad you agreed because I’m going to do it anyway, so I was only asking to be polite.

The reality is, you sign up for this service to meet people, in the hopes of finding your true love or at least a shot at getting laid.

Let me remind you of this fact – THIS IS WELL KNOWN! This is NOT a secret.

Sorry about the caps, but I really am shouting over here as I type. I would say that I would try to tone it down, but you already know I won’t, so why lie?

I mean, it’s not like you are secretly trying to meet people and pretending that you are actually interested in their hobbies or really care much about them from the beginning. I don’t give a rats ass about what a guys hobbies are or what he does for a living. I am more interested in weeding out the freaks in the hopes of finding maybe, just maybe, some intelligent life on the internet.

I know, I dream, but you can’t stop me from dreaming. Don’t judge me.

So how did this all come about? It’s simple. It’s because I am an amazing friend, trustworthy, loyal to the core and I can’t watch my friends walk into a slaughter-house.

It’s really all Dee Dee’s fault. Really it is.

Dee Dee and I have known each other for 40 years. We worked together for a long time and she is going through a divorce at the age of 60. I, and others, have been by her side the whole time and Dee Dee actually stopped me from “friending” her soon-to-be-ex-douche-bag-cheating-dickwad-of-a-husband on Facebook because I wanted to post on his wall what I thought of him and also “friend” his whore and do the same thing.

I am NOT lying. She stopped me from doing it by physically removing my fingers from the keyboard of MY laptop as I was sending the friend requests.

“Lewis, you can’t do that. Stop it.”

“You’re not the boss of me!”

Sigh. “This time I am, so let it go.”

Snap. Snarl. “Fine!” I say as I snapped my laptop closed, glared at her and promised I would not do it.

Later on, she decides that she should get online and is ready to date again and asks me about it.

“NO! Don’t do it! Please Dee Dee, there’s got to be a better way! Tell you what; you and I can date each other.”

“Lewis, you are such a freak. I don’t want to DATE you! Are you out of your mind? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I don’t mean date, like a gay thing..”

“Get away from me. Now.”

“No, hear me out. What I am saying is this – I’ll invite you to wherever I am going. Include you in on the things I do. You haven’t been single for a very long time and it’s not nice out there. It’s a cruel world and if you try to go it alone, you will be butchered. Things have change a lot and…”

“OK, OK. Stop talking. That sounds like fun, but I want to sign-up for the dating websites and I really need you to help me because….”

“Yeah, don’t finish that sentence, please. I get it. What do you want me to do?”

And so the journey began, once again. I helped her put together a profile, got a really great picture of her and told her a bit of how to maneuver around it because she barely knows how to check email.

“Now Susan, I need you to put up your profile so you can see mine and see how it looks and help me. I’ll give you my password and you can see what’s going on and what I need to do.”

Head slamming  on her desk.

“Lewis, stop that. You’re going to hurt yourself and I’ve always been worried about you being brain-damaged as it is.”

I rub my forehead and sit back, stretch against the chair and look up at her.

“Say what? You want me to….go back….there?” I stifle a scream that is about to erupt from my throat.

“Yes. I need your help because I don’t know anything about this.”

I know I will do it. She has these puppy dog eyes, is a babe in the woods and needs my protection. I know she does because Dee Dee is one of the most amazing women I know. I mean this. She is beautiful, smart, funny, scary intelligent, kind, giving, hard-working, etc. You name anything positive about a person and that would be Dee Dee.

She’s also been married for a gazillion years and thinks at the age of 60, she going to find someone right away.

Maybe she will and maybe she won’t, but she’s decided to go out on the internet and talk to people.

May God have mercy on her soul.

So, yes, I signed up because I love my friend and part of me hopes it all works out for her and the other part wants to drag her back to me and convince her that it’s much more fun to go out with me to the movies and eat popcorn and throw it at each other and laugh and to go to clubs and dance, with me always nearby and bitch slap the rude men. I want her close by because she really is just a sweet, little lamb that doesn’t want to live out the rest of her life alone, just like me.

She calls me one day. “Susan, what does it mean when you get this thing called a wink from someone?”

I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Dee Dee, when someone winks at you, it means….shit, I don’t know what it means. I could mean they are flirting with you or it could mean they have something in their eye.”

“No! I’m talking about getting a wink from someone on this website. Will you take a look at it for me and tell me what to do?”

“Yes. Hold on while I log in…”

And there they are. Winks. From men. She has some and I check my account and I have some.

What does it mean? Why are they doing this? Am I suppose to wink back or do I ignore it? I don’t know but I don’t like it.

I call her back. “OK, as near as I can tell, it means they are letting you know they are interested in you.”

“Well then, why don’t they just send me a message?”

“I don’t know Dee Dee.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I..well…the thing is..”

“Should I wink back? And if I do, what happens then? Or should I send them a message and say hello? What happens if I don’t? Is that rude? How does this work?”

I tell her to send a wink back. I do the same. I send one back to everyone who sent me one. Why? Because I don’t frickin CARE anymore because I already know one thing and one thing for sure – if I man can’t just talk to me, I’m not the woman for him.

I had about 10 winks going back and forth before I stopped. I get a wink. I send one back. He sends another one and soon I am involved in what feels like the Wimbledon game of winks.

I hate these men and that’s not a good attitude to start out a possible relationship. Not good at all, so I stopped. They went away and soon my life was peaceful and calm again and the urge to slap them was gone.

I try to be a nice person, but even I have my limits.

Either talk to us or don’t. If you can’t, it’s OK. We understand and aren’t interested. But most of us have been there and done that. Some of us have children and grandchildren. We’ve been through enough wars and are old enough to be quite mellow, laid back and never got the memo of our sex drive diminishing as we get older. TRUST ME ON THIS ONE! We run businesses, care for our family and friends, have dealt with more crap than we care to think about, suffered through unbearable losses and betrayals and we are still here.

Older women are the worlds best kept secret and we don’t suffer fools gladly. But we will talk to you and smile.

But don’t ever send me a wink again. I will hurt you.

My dinner with Mike

Posted: May 26, 2012 in Dating
Tags: , ,

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.

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.

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.

This email wins my award for the week of the best one I received from a dating website. Drum roll please….

“U R very pretty. I like ur smile. I am a poly man and am looking for another wife. I am honest, truthful and caring. My cell is ###-####. I tink I have a lot to offer u. I hope to here from u soon.”

I had to read this three times before I could understand what the hell he was talking about. I then quickly checked his profile and yes indeedy,  he’s a polygamist.

I will give him brownie points for being honest.

His email surprised me so much that I jumped back a bit in my chair which caused the chair to catch on the carpet, stick and the next thing I knew I smacked my head against the wall behind me.

I was glad no one was around to see that.

I went to flag the email but then there was a thought in the back of my mind to check my settings on my profile.  Sure enough, I had the setting defaulted to “Interested in anything” which I quickly changed to “Single men only.”

Maybe they need settings to be more direct because I want the one that says “Must have been born a male as I only want the original packaging, single, no criminal record of any kind, likes women most of the time, can and will carry on a conversation when necessary, won’t  text/call me 50 times a day, has original thoughts  sometimes, can and does read actual books and NEVER mentions the word ‘cuddling’ in their profile because that’s male talk for copping a feel.”

Pictures of whom or what would be contacting me if I didn’t change it went through my mind. The “Craig’s List Killer,” Scott Peterson, the smelly guy that hangs out at my local 7-11, Bill Paxton from “Big Love” (which wouldn’t be bad because he’s hot) and Warren Jeffs. OK, I’m stretching it a bit on Warren Jeffs but then again, prisoners do have access to the internet.

Fortunately for me, his was the first email I got when I put up my profile so future disasters were avoided.

Why do the strange people always find me? I took another look at my profile. It was short and sweet with a couple of pictures of me that I don’t completely hate. Why would a poly male want to meet and marry me off of my bio?

Now the question arose on how to respond? Sure, I could just delete it and not say anything. I could write him back and thank him for his email and decline his kind offer or I could blast him back and tell him what I thought of his email.

I took the brave route – I deleted the email without responding and then blocked him. I blocked him so fast that I wasn’t sure I had done it at first. Suddenly before I could figure out what I wanted to do, I hit that block key, sat back and stared at my monitor and rubbed the back of my head.

Will date for food

Posted: June 21, 2011 in funny stories
Tags: , ,

Yes, I have done this and though I would rather die than admit this to the men I have done this to, I will say that a good friend of mine just told me about doing the same thing.

I was sitting at home on a Saturday afternoon with my trusted laptop, writing and trying to put a story together for a writing contest. I was feeling the usual feelings of wracking my brain trying to be brilliant rather than just write the damn story when my phone rang.

This was the distraction I needed so badly and I answered the phone, knowing it was my friend Debra because I have really cool ring tones for every contact in my phone. This is technology that I love because I don’t even have to look at the phone to know who is calling nd depending on my mood, I either answer or let it go to voicemail. To me, this is the ultimate in being lazy and I cherish it.

I answered because I was just getting absolutely nowhere with my story plus I was feeling guilty about not writing much that week because I work 2 jobs and if I don’t write enough, I start to feel emotionally sluggish. Sort of a stale feeling comes over me and then I start to get nervous about even going near my laptop unless it is to play solitaire.

I grabbed the phone, hit the talk button and say hello.

“Susan, guess where I am going?”

I can tell Debra is in her car.

“You are leaving town, moving to Nevada to work as a hooker at a ranch.” Debra had recently been laid off from her job because her boss had died and the family was cutting costs by bringing in relatives, have them do the work and not pay them as much.

I hear her belly laugh. “No, I am on my way to meet a guy for a blind date.”

Debra and I have been doing the internet dating scene and often compare stories. In fact, many of my friends tell me their stories and then ask me to write about them. It’s a strange little hobby of mine. Writing stories about my life and other people.

I immediately ask her for all the details about this new guy. Debra and I are very different in our approach to internet dating. I hate it. She likes it. I really don’t want to meet any of them. She loves to meet as many people as possible and as quickly as possible. I only meet them after weeks of emailing and then maybe a few weeks of talking on the phone and then if I am still interested, I might meet them. But by then they have “moved on” (a very popular saying for internet dating along with “He’s just not that in to you” when the men you are talking to suddenly disappear) and I forget about the free website I am on until another email arrives from someone I don’t know who has just sent me their phone number or instant messaging address and is just dying to “chat”, which is another term that I don’t quite understand.

Hence, she has a lot of dates and I have very few.

“Well, I’m driving half way to meet him and he’s really good looking and that bothers me, but I’m going anyway.”

“Ah, yeah, the ‘good looking’ problem. How come you are making an exception for this one?” I ask. Both Debra and I don’t like to date drop dead gorgeous men because, well, it makes us a bit uncomfortable and very often, they haven’t developed much of a personality because they don’t have to. Women can get away with this much easier than men because men are men and I don’t think it needs much more of an explanation than that.

“Because I’m hungry and we are meeting for dinner.”

“So, you are now dating for food, is that it?” I say as I start laughing. I knew just what she was talking about but I had never told anyone that I have done it many times.

I hear her laugh again and I know this is why she is going. She’s broke, she doesn’t know what to do or where to go and this will be a nice distraction. It has to be something like that because she said he was really good looking.

“Yes, I guess you could say that. I figure I’ll meet him, get something to eat because I haven’t eaten all day and maybe have some fun.”

“Look Deb, women have been doing this for thousands of years and I think you should go for it. Be sure to order a huge meal so you can get a doggie bag and have some food for tomorrow. Be nice to him, don’t be rude and have some fun. Who knows, you might really like him and hit it off.”

She is quiet for a second and then says “Do you really think it’s OK to do this? I mean, I haven’t really talked to him much, but he seems like a nice guy.”

“Hell, Deb, you’ve married men for less than that.”

“That’s true” she says.

“Yes, it’s fine. You are meeting in a public place, driving yourself and then coming home. Just don’t do something stupid and call me as soon as you are leaving.”

She agrees and hangs up and I continue with my day on the couch with my laptop and some Ben & Jerry’s for dinner.

About 2 hours later, she calls back and I grab the phone.

“So Deb, how was dinner?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I never got to eat.”

This is not good and she sounds distant and I am suddenly worried.

“Are you OK?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Everything is fine but you will not believe what happened.”

She proceeds to tell me the story. She arrives at the restaurant and he was all ready seated and waiting for her. The first thing she notices was that he was just finishing a beer and yet she recalls he was adamant that he didn’t drink. They greet each other and he doesn’t offer her anything to drink, so she goes to the bar herself to order something.

As she sits down, the waitress gives him another drink and while they are talking, he finishes that one and orders another one. He is even better looking in person.

She is watching this and though she doesn’t really care if he drinks or not, she is starting to sense that he definitely has a drinking problem and says nothing.

The waitress comes over to take their order for dinner and he blows her off and tells her to come back later. They chat for a while and then Debra gets up to use the bathroom and he follows her.

When she comes out, he is standing there, leering at her and grabs her butt and pulls her towards him. His tongue is sticking out and laying flat on his chin and he takes his right hand, grabs the back of her head and pushes her lips onto his tongue.

While she is telling me this, I feel myself getting angrier and angrier but grateful she is fine.

“Sue it was like kissing a cows tongue! His tongue was just laying there on his chin and he pushed my face into it and it happened so fast I didn’t know what to do. Then I could tell he was really turned on and all I could think of was to get away from him as quickly as possible.”

“Yeah, but what about the doggie bag?” I asked. “You mean to tell me you drove all the way over there and you still didn’t get any food?”

She starts laughing. “No, I didn’t get any food! I pulled away and walked back to the table and grabbed my purse and left. The son of a bitch follows me out and wants to know where I want to go! He actually thought I wanted to get in his car with him and go somewhere else!”

I shake my head and find it hard to believe that anyone would act this way and then I remember several first dates of my own. I am the Queen of first dates and rarely have a second date.

“Are you kidding me? He wanted you to get in his CAR?” I ask.

“Yes! So I told him I would just follow him and he gets in his car and starts driving and I pulled out of the parking lot and took off the other way.”

“Let me guess” I say. “He started calling you after about 10 seconds, right?”


“You didn’t answer, did you?” I ask, holding my breath.

“Hell no! I’m still on my way home and he’s called about 5 times and sent 3 text messages, wondering if I got lost. The idiot is probably pulled over on the side of the road, waiting for me.”

This gets me to giggling, just visualizing this man who looks like he just stepped out of a GQ ad, drunk and by the side of the road, sending text after text and constantly hitting the “talk” button on his cell phone, waiting for Deb to come around the corner with absolutely no clue about his offensive and disturbing behavior.

“Well, I’m glad you are OK.”

“I’m fine, just hungry, that’s all. Really ticks me off I didn’t get any food out of this. Oh well, maybe next time.”

“Deb, with you, there will always be a next time.”

“Sue, you have to promise me something.”

I already know what it is, but I’ll bite.

“Sure. What is it?”

“That the next time I decide to date for food, you will remind me of this date and stop me.”

“But what if you are really hungry and have no money?”

I can actually hear her thinking about this as she drives down the road on her cell phone.

“Send me some money and I promise to go have dinner by myself.”

“I promise.”