Good Relationships Begin Under the Golden Arches

     Making plans with friends was a lot simpler in 1990.  Cell phones didn’t hit the market yet so text messages were unheard of.  When someone said; “I’ll call you” that meant they would actually dial my number and speak to me.  I remember pacing impatiently in my parent’s kitchen then lunging for the wall phone when it rang.  Oh how I miss that tan coil cord.

      Our live conversations were sometimes short, simple and to the point and this Friday night was no different.

            “Can you drive tonight?”  My friend asked.

            “Yup.  I’ll pick you up. Tell everyone I will be over soon.” I replied then ran out of my parent’s house and into my 1976 red Chevy Malibu.  I popped in my dance mix cassette tape and was off to hang out with my friends.

     My friends and I weren’t part of the popular crowd in high school and that didn’t change the year after we graduated.  We might have not been the cool kids but that didn’t change the fact that we were on a mission that night; we needed to find boyfriends.  We didn’t have Facebook or Twitter so in order to “chat” with boys we had to physically leave our homes and ignore them in person.

     After I picked up my girlfriends, we headed to where the boys were and that was McDonald’s on South Main Street.  We jammed to Regina’s “Baby Love” and talked about the boys we hoped to see. I had a good feeling about that night. I had my eye on Bill for a while and word on the street was that he broke up with his girlfriend.  I was thrilled!  I drove by him (1990’s version of stalking) in the McDonald’s parking lot every weekend for over a month. One weekend he even talked to me.  Ok, so he asked me to pass him napkins because I was standing in front of the dispenser but that still counts!  If I didn’t have to be home by 10:30pm, I’m sure we would have talked to me longer.

     I know what you’re thinking; “Your curfew was 10:30pm?”  The answer to that question is yes. Let me explain, my parents are your typical strict Italian parents.  There were and still are many benefits of being a daughter to Italian immigrants. Of course, in 1990 I didn’t recognize these benefits.  Back then I just focused on the fact that I wasn’t allowed to date all through high school and going away to college was not an option.  You heard me right.  Moving out of my parent’s home before my wedding day was more than frowned upon, it simply was not allowed.  I was a nineteen-year-old girl with over protective parents (and over protective male cousins but I’m saving that for another story) and going to Community College.  I was such a catch.

   I drove through the parking lot about a million times this particular Friday night before I parked my car.  My friends and I reapplied our makeup and mentally prepared for the intimidating walk through the groups of boys and girls.  I spotted Bill standing by the restaurant door and asked my friends to act cool, whatever that meant, when we pass him.  They promised that they would. 

            “There she is!”  I heard a boy yell out as the other boys whistled and teased.

            “Go up to her!”  Said another boy.  It sounded like they were referring to us but I wasn’t sure.  We didn’t turn around to see who they were talking about incase it wasn’t us.  Last thing we wanted to do was turn around to find out they were cat calling another group of girls.  That would have been social suicide so we talked among ourselves as we walked into McDonald’s.

     Bill walked in right after we did and stood behind us in line.  He cleared his throat a few times and spoke loudly with his friends. 

“What is she ordering?”  His friend asked out loud. 

"I don't know."  Bill replied.

“Why don’t you ask her?”  Another friend suggested.

“Hey!  What are ordering?”  Bill asked.  There was no doubt that he was talking to me but I was paralyzed with fear so I ignored him, naturally.   

     My friends and I walked over to a booth to eat our cheeseburgers, fries and chicken nuggets.   

“Why did you ignore him?”  My friend asked under her breath.

“I have no idea.”  I replied then squeezed ketchup on my cheeseburger wrapper.

     Bill walked up to us and asked if he could join us. I felt my face turn red and I wanted to say yes but for some reason, I couldn’t get the words from my brain to my mouth.  He stood in front of us, holding his tray of food, waiting for my response. 

“Say something.”  My friend said then pinched me.

     I still couldn’t talk.  All I could do was shake my head yes, which I did.  My friends moved over so he could sit next to me.  That was it; we were inseparable for the next few years.

    The best thing about Bill was that understood how strict my parents were.  He respected my parents and made sure not to do anything to upset them. I was always home on time, which my parents liked, and Bill talked to my father about gardening, which I liked.

    

     We did the typical dating things; we went to theme parks, county fairs, movies and out to dinner.  Our group of friends also understood my dating restrictions.  It upset me when I had to go home early every time we went out but they never made me feel like a loser.  I tried to have as much fun as I could with the limited time I had.  Eventually, my curfew changed to midnight.

     I was never a big drinker mostly because I was afraid to go home drunk.   I wasn’t sure how my parents would handle a hung-over daughter and I was not about to test it.  Bill, on the other hand, enjoyed drinking and has his share of drunken stories. He was amusing at times but being the sober one in a group of drunks wasn’t always that much fun.  Don’t get me wrong; I had my share of purple passion but my party ended earlier than the rest of my friends because I needed to get home.   

            “What will happen if you get home a little late?”  Bill asked one night

            “I don’t want to find out.”  I replied.

            “Ok, how about I promise to get you home on time, like I always do, if you promise to get drunk and have fun?”  He asked.

“Are you implying that I’m not fun?”  I asked sadly.

“Nope, not at all.  I just think you should get drunk just for tonight.”  He said before introducing me to Gold Scholgger.

     I wasn’t sure if I was ready to abandon my favorite purple color cocktail for a gold-flaked beverage.  However, the sparkles that came from the shot glass did look appealing so I took a shot.   It burned the back of my throat but after the third shot, and my throat and the rest of my body became numb so I kept drinking. 

  I don’t know how many shots I did nor do I have any recollection of how the rest of the night went. I do remember Bill asking me to stop vomiting in the parking lot. 

    

“I would if I could.”  I slurred back to him before getting into his car.  

    

     I was so annoying the whole ride home.  I vaguely remember praying out loud because I truly thought I was dying.  If I didn’t drop dead in his car, I knew my parents were going to kill me when I got home. Either way, I was convinced I was a goner that night.  My prayers intensified the closer we got to my home and I became more annoying.

“Will you please just shut up?”  Bill said a few times which only made me cry and pray louder.

   He somehow managed to get to my house before my curfew.

  “You’re home.  Get out.”  He said leaning over my seat to open the door from the inside.  I wanted Bill to walk me in my house because I really needed his help. 

“No way! Your father will kill me if he knew that I got you drunk.” He said then gently pushed me out of his parked car. 

“Please, just get out.  I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”  He pleaded still trying to get me out of his car, quietly.

     I mentally wanted to get out of his car on my own but I physically couldn’t do it. 

“Look the main lights are off, my parents are sleeping.”  I pointed out to him as my last attempt to get help from him. 

“Fine, I’ll help you.  Promise me you’ll be quite.”  He pleaded then and walked over to my side of the car and opened the door.  I poured out of his front seat and Bill collected me off my parent’s sidewalk.  We walked slowly through my parents front lawn.  When we got to the door, I looked at him and said, “Oh my God, I’m going to get sick!”  And started to cry again.

“Please, please, please, please stop crying and wait until I leave before you throw up.”  He begged.

“I can’t!”  I whispered loudly.

“Just walk me down the street.  I’ll throw up in the bushes.”  I continued in what I thought was a softer whisper while tugging on his jacket.

“Are you crazy? No way! I've got to get out of here and fast!”  He said then opened the front door with my key.

    I looked in my parent’s dark living room and then at Bill. 

“I’m so sorry.  It was nice knowing you.”  I said then proceeded to vomit violently all over my parent’s tiled living room floor.  Bill looked at me then at the vomit. 

“I’m so sorry it had to end this way.”  He said then got the hell out of there.   

Part of me couldn’t believe that he left me but a bigger part of me wish he took me with him.

I heard my parents jump out of their bed and running down the hallway.

“TAKE ME WITH YOU!”  I shouted out the front door but it was too late.  He skidded off in his Camaro and left me standing in my own vomit with my confused parents.  

     I tried to tell my parents that I had food poisoning but the gold flakes and the smell of cinnamon made it an incredible excuse. 

            “You’re drunk.”  My mother said and helped me to my room.  She continued to lecture me on the dangers of alcohol and my father joined in.  They scolded me days after the incident and I promised to never drink again.

A week or so later, Bill reappeared.  He capitalized on the situation and told my parents that he tried to stop me from drinking. 

            “What are you doing?”  I asked him after he took my parent's side in front of me.  I couldn't believe he threw me under the bus like that!

            “Agreeing with your parents.  They’ll love me, watch.”  He said and it worked.

        

     Bill and I dated for about four years. Like I said, things were simpler in 1990.

Too Good To Be True

   I stepped over a pile of clothing that sat in the middle of my bedroom floor.  My 4inch heel got caught on a sweater so I reached over to my dresser to stop my fall.  I leaned down towards my feet to pull off my stilettos.  I admired them for a few minutes before closing my eyes to fight back the tears. 

     

     I pulled open a drawer in search for my oversized Tee shirt and shorts.  I couldn’t wait to put on my security outfit and stop sucking in my stomach.  I changed into my frumpy outfit and threw my “good” jeans on top of the dresser then headed into the bathroom. 

   

     I gazed at my reflection in the mirror above my bathroom sink.  I pulled my hair back into a lazy ponytail and turned on the faucet.  I ran my fingers under the warm water while sadness overcame me.  This wasn’t the first time a guy cancelled a date but this is the first time it hurt this badly.  I thought he was just as excited to see me as I was about seeing him.  He told me he couldn’t wait to see me.  He told me he had something special planned.  I trusted him. 

     

     We met at a cocktail party on a cool spring night.  He was beautiful.  His deep blue eyes sparkled when he spoke and his warm smile captivated me.  He complimented my black dress and I thanked him.  He commented on my drink and I commented on his.  He didn’t leave my side while we were at the party and I was glad that he didn’t.  We exchanged phone numbers at the end of the night and he called the next day to invite me to dinner but I wasn’t available.  He called three days later and asked if we could meet for a drink but I couldn’t.  He called a week later and asked to meet me for coffee.  I accepted. 

    

     A few weeks later I found myself staring at him from across a candle lit table in an empty restaurant.  We talked about the day we met for coffee and he confessed that he was nervous.  We talked about a movie we saw and he told me he was intrigued by the way I analyzed the true meaning of the story line.  We talked about the drive we took down the shore for fried clams and he said he loved the way I ate. I laughed out loud and asked if I shared because I couldn’t remember if I did.  He didn’t answer my question instead he said he loved my smile and that my laugh was infectious. I blushed and thanked him.

“You looked stunning the night we met.  I loved your red dress.”  He said confidently after the waiter poured wine into our glasses.   I waited for him to say he was joking but he didn’t.

                  “I wore a black dress.”  I said correcting him. I wondered how someone as observant as he seemed to be make such a mistake.   My gut told me leave but his charisma enticed me to stay. 

      A month later he introduced me to his friends and I introduced him to mine.  “Don’t we make a great couple?”  He asked each time an introduction was made.  His friends agreed that we did. My friends were suspicious of him.

       

     He was perfect.  He said my happiness was his priority and he showed me every day.  He always called when he said he would and never made promises that he couldn’t keep.  Before I knew it, our dates were assumed and every date was spectacular.

“I want to take you to restaurant in New York that I think you’ll love.”  He said one night over another romantic dinner in my favorite restaurant.

“I also want to take you to Italy and spend time in Brazil with you.  I think you’ll love Brazil.”  He continued and I was ready to go.

“Wow, you have big plans for us.”  I said smiling.

            “You have no idea.  I can picture our future and it is picture-perfect.”  He said then leaned in to kiss me.   It was all too much too fast but I didn’t care, I liked the attention.

     

     He praised me everyday.  He commented on how strong our relationship was and how lucky he was to have met me.  He said he never felt a connection as strong as ours before in his life.  He said he loved me in month three.  I told him I loved him too but thought it was too soon.

      

     Things changed in month four.  His phone calls lessened and his schedule became more complex.  Our weekends together were cut short and our weeknight dates became sporadic.  I knew what he was doing but I didn’t want to face it. I wasn’t ready to lose my perfect relationship.  I analyzed every word he said and his reaction to what I said.  I studied each head nod and eye roll and later scrutinized the conversation that surrounded each action. I made an effort to only say what I thought he wanted to hear and became available to him when it was inconvenient for me to prolong the inevitable.

     I rarely left my phone behind in month four.  When I missed his call I would call him back within minutes but my calls always went to his full voicemail. 

“It would be easier if we just text each other.”  He suggested after an argument.

“What do you mean by easier?”  I asked but his explanation was nonsensical.

      

     It was difficult but I communicated with him only by text messages.  He replied hours or even days later and it broke my heart.  I tried to talk to him about my feelings but he said I was being crazy.  I wasn’t crazy.  I was hurt. I had an unbelievable urge to drive to his house and beg him for answers but I was better than that.  He was fading away and there was nothing I could do to stop him.

“Ok, I understand.  When can we see each other again?”  I heard my voice ask after he cancelled a Thursday night date.

“Saturday.  It’s only two days away!  I’ll plan something special.” He said which gave me a glimmer of hope.

     “What do you mean by special?”  I asked.

     “It’s a surprise.”  He said then told me he loved me.

     

     Tonight is Saturday and I feared that this would be our last night together.  He needed to see the person he fell in love with only weeks earlier.  He needed to remember how unique our connection was. I carefully applied my makeup, styled my hair and put on the outfit I purchased the night before. I eagerly ran down my stairs then walked franticly around my living room hearing my heels click with every step.  My dog Emma starred at me and then at my shoes as I looked for her leash.

    I hurried passed my coffee table and grabbed my phone.  I got Emma ready for her last walk of the night then checked the time.  It was 7:53pm.  He was going to be here at 8pm.  I had minutes to pull myself together.    

    While Emma looked for the ideal spot, I scrolled through my phone.  There were multiple texts from him:

     Message number one, time 7:04pm:  “I’m running late, actually, it’s not looking good.  I’m not cancelling, just saying I won’t be on time.”   I felt a pit in my stomach.

     Message number two, time 7:15pm:  “Jumping in the shower.  I can’t wait to see you again.  Hope you’re wearing that red dress you wore the night we met.” 

    “It was black.”  I said softly to myself and took in a deep breath.  There was still hope for tonight. 

     Text message number three time 7:39pm: “I’m so sorry, I won’t be able to make it. I really want to see you but something came up.  Please understand.  I’m so into you.” 

    

     I felt the air escaping my lungs as his words started to sink in.  Our date is off.  The pit in my stomach developed into a lump in my throat.

     Text message number four, time 7:47pm:  “I just wanted to make sure you got my texts.  I am so sorry.  I miss you and promise to make it up to you. Please let me know you got this.” 

   

     I stood still in my yard contemplating whether or not to reply while Emma chased leaves.  If I did reply, would it change the fact that he wasn’t coming? I desperately wanted to know the reason why he cancelled but I was afraid to ask.  Not because I couldn’t handle the truth, I just knew that I wouldn’t get it.  I ran hundreds of imaginable scenarios in my head and finally realized that the reason was not important.  I’m simply not a priority to him anymore and he has moved onto someone else who is.

   

    I received his last text message at 8:03pm:  “Hey, I know you’re upset so you don’t have to reply.  Actually, I won’t be able to respond if you do.  I know you understand.”  

     

    I didn’t understand.  The excitement of seeing him and the anticipation of our special night came to an end.  I felt defeated and exhausted. 

   I pulled the barely worn contacts from my eyes and tossed them into the wastebasket.  I cupped my hands under the running water and collected enough to splash onto my face.  I pulled my wet hands away and observed the array of colors settling into the creases of my hands and then into my sink leaving an oily film.  I gently removed the black mascara from under my eyes and scrubbed my face clean.  I lifted my head from the sink and came face to face with my reflection again.  I stared at my puffy red skin behind the water droplets and the memories our entire relationship ran through my head.  The fact that our relationship was over killed me.

    

    I splashed one last handful of water on my face and turned off the faucet.   The soft towel on my freshly cleaned face comforted me a bit.   I folded the towel and rested it on the side of the sink then walked out of my bathroom.  I slipped into bed with Emma and turned on the TV.  I pulled the sheets over my shoulder as I curled into the fetal position.  I was content for a few minutes.  I moved to reposition myself under the covers and the scent from my perfume crept into my nose. The pretty aroma reminded that I was supposed to be on a special date tonight and not home alone.  I cried myself to sleep.

     

    He eventually did fade away and I’m sure he was glad I accepted his actions quietly.  I thought about fighting for the survival of our relationship but I didn’t.  I learned a long time ago that there is no point in chasing after a man who doesn’t want to be chased.  

The Ambiguous Suitor

“Do you like Jazz music?”  He asked.

“I do.” I replied and it wasn’t a lie.

“The Litchfield Jazz Festival is going on this weekend.  Would you like to go?”  He asked.  My heart raced with excitement but I didn’t want him to know it.

“Sure.  It sounds like fun.”  I replied calmly.

“Great! I’ll pick you up in a hour.”

“In an hour?” I asked in a panic.

“Yeah, in an hour. Do you have any snacks?”  He asked while my mind raced.  I couldn’t be ready in an hour! It takes more than an hour to get ready for a date!  I immediately ran upstairs and dove into my closet.

     I noticed that my toes were in desperate need of a pedicure but there was no time for that. I took a step back from my closet in disgust.  I didn’t have anything to wear but a trip to the mall was out of the question so I continued to search for the perfect outfit. I then remembered that there was a lot of plucking and shaving that needed to get done! I had to get off the phone and fast if I was going to be ready for this date!

“Snacks, do you have any?  We could stop at the deli if you don’t.”  He suggested as I desperately pulled a few dresses out of my closet.

“The deli is a good idea.  I’ll see you in an hour.”  I said before I hung up and ran into the bathroom.

     I met this guy the usual way; he hit on me in a bar.  We exchanged numbers and went out a few times but I couldn’t tell if he liked me.  He was tall, blond and gorgeous not to mention very charming but I couldn’t tell if he liked me liked me. We met for lunch a few times and I couldn’t read him. Our dinner dates weren’t earth shattering.  They weren’t boring just not overly stimulating.  I wasn’t sure if he wanted to date me or just be my friend whatever his intentions were, I started to really like him.

    We met for drinks after work one day and he walked me to my car at the end of the night like he has done many times before.  This time though, he leaned in and gave me a kiss goodbye.  I was surprised and relieved; a friend would not have kissed me that way.  I assumed he wanted to date me and I was ok with that!

   We got together a few nights after the big kiss night.  I tried to flirt with him but he didn’t bite.  I thought he wasn’t into me and that maybe he was drunk when he kissed me the other night or worse; maybe he thought I was a bad kisser! I drove away that night thinking I would never hear from him again but I was wrong.  We had dinner a few more times and sometimes he kissed me goodnight and sometimes he didn’t.  It was very confusing so I stopped trying to figure it out.

   When he called me this Saturday to invite me to the Jazz Festival, I was pleasantly surprised.  I was determined to figure out what type of relationship he wanted.  I was fine with just being friends but I would have preferred to be his girlfriend.

     He showed up exactly one hour after our telephone conversation and I was ready.  He walked into my condo, gave me a big hug and a make out session commenced.  I felt like a teenager making out for the first time!  I pulled away before things we got carried away and walked to my storage closet.  I grabbed a picnic basket and a blanket.  I also took a bottle of wine from my wine cellar (AKA my kitchen counter) and we were off.

     We stopped at the local deli and packed my basket with sandwiches, fruit and more wine. 

 “This is going to be a good day.”  He said then gave me a kiss on my cheek.

“I think it will be too.”  I replied.  It looked like my Ambiguous Suitor was coming around.

     The hour ride to Litchfield went very well.  We laughed a lot and he put his hand on my leg while he drove.  All good signs!

     We found a parking spot quickly.  He carried the picnic basket and I carried a blanket, it was the least I can do. 

            “Let’s get as close to the stage as possible.”  He suggested as he lead the way.

    We walked by so many couples sitting on blankets and drinking wine.  It may have been early afternoon but there was a lot of romance in the air.  I paid attention to every move The Ambiguous Suitor made and listened to every word he said.  I needed to make sure our make out session wasn't just a fluke. 

            “How’s this spot?”  He asked pointing to a grassy area.

            “Perfect.”  I said rolling the blanket out.

   

     We made ourselves comfortable before pouring wine into the wine glasses and he kissed me again!  He rubbed my back a few times and brushed my hair away from my eyes.  I thought he was adorable and treated me so nicely.

     He asked if I was enjoying myself as he handed me the other half of his sandwich.  I told him I was and handed him a napkin.  I made a comment about the weather and how nice it was to see so many happy couples around us.  Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say.

            “Wait a minute. This is kinda feeling like a date.  I want to make sure you know that we are NOT on a date.”  He said which surprised me.

     I looked down at the picnic basket, the two partially filled wine glasses and my freshly shaved legs.  It looked like we were on a date to me.

           

“I’m sorry.  I’m confused.  We are NOT on a date?”  I asked.

            “Ah, no we are not.”  He replied.

            “I’m sorry but I’m confused.  What is going on then?” I asked.  I was so embarrassed.  How could I have misunderstood his actions?

            “I just thought you would like to spend a nice day outdoors.”  He said then stood up.

            “I’ll be right back.”  He said before he walked away.

     So, there I was sitting alone on a blanket, surrounded by hundreds of couples snuggling with each other. I did what any other upset single girl would have done in my shoes, I poured myself another glass of wine then opened the other bottle.  I really wanted to cry but decided to try to eat everything in the basket instead.

     Thirty minutes went by and he wasn’t back.  I looked around the crowded field but I couldn’t find him.  For a minute I worried that he left me there.  I franticly looked for his keys on the blanket and was relieved when I found them.  I slipped the keys into my purse and hoped that he would return soon.

     Another thirty minutes went by and he was still missing.  I needed to use the restroom so I got up and headed towards the concrete building.  I’m not going to lie; I was feeling the wine and the sun beating on me didn’t help my intoxicated condition. I staggered into the bathroom then took my time walking back to our spot.  I wanted him to know how it felt to be left alone but he was not there.  I couldn’t believe that he abandoned me!  The fact the “we were NOT on a date” was irrelevant.  He should not have left me at alone at this festival. I desperately wanted to go home.  Part of me wanted to leave him there, I did have the keys but I decided to look for him instead.

     It took a while but I found him, playing Frisbee with a group of girls.  I was furious! He left me alone for over an hour so he could frolic with a group of girls!

            “Hey! What are you doing?”  I yelled.

            “Playing Frisbee.  Are you having fun?”  He asked still tossing the plastic disk.

            “No! I am not having fun.  I want to go home and I want to go home now!”  I shouted.

            “What? Why?  I’m not ready to leave yet.”  He said and the girls giggled. 
     I wanted to fight every girl there.  He was making me look like a fool and I did not like that at all.  I snapped.

     I’m not sure what I said exactly but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t shy with the profanity.  I know I wasn’t acting lady like but I didn’t care at this point.  I was livid.

     He didn’t stop playing and it irritated me.  I ran in the middle of the game, jumped up and grabbed the Frisbee midair.  I struggled to snap it in half but I couldn’t so I tried to fling it in the woods.  I said, “try” because I’m a bad Frisbee thrower, it landed next to my feet.   It wasn’t my proudest moment in life.

     He said his goodbyes to the girls and angrily walked back to the blanket with me.  We collected our things and then marched to his car.  We exchanged a few heated words but then I stopped talking.  I gave up on trying to get him to see my side.  He clearly didn’t understand why I was upset and couldn’t wait to drop me off. 

     Like my relationship with The Ambiguous Suitor the lesson learned from this experience is still unclear.  The only true moral I could come up with is not to drink red wine in the sun.  Next time I’ll pack a cooler with beers. 

Living THE DREAM!!! fall 1997ish

      Dating in my twenties was so different than dating in my thirties.  I was young and naïve and didn’t think that little white lies were such a big deal.  One of those little white lies was pretending to love football. I don’t have a logical explanation as to why I fibbed about this.  The only stupid excuse I could come up with is desperation.  In my young delusional mind I thought that I could learn to love this sport therefore spend more time with my man.  This facade didn’t work earlier with an ex boyfriend.  I told him I loved football but he didn’t believe me.  He was a Giants fan but I never paid attention to the game.  Whenever my ex-boyfriend “had to watch The Giants,” I would complain and question his devotion to me.  What I should have done was sit my ass down and watched it with him.  At least I would have been prepared to lie to my next boyfriend.

“YES! I LOVE spending all day Sunday, Monday nights and Thursday nights sitting in front of a TV to watch a game!”  I told Pax (Also known as my biggest mistake) over dinner one night.

                  “Yeah? Who’s your favorite team?”  Pax asked.

Luckily for me he had on silver and black Tee shirt on with a picture of a football and the word “Raiders” splashed on the front of it.

                  ‘The Raiders, of course!”  I proclaimed.  He believed me.

     I met Pax at the gym.  He was that loud obnoxious guy that all of the girls tried to flirt with.  I played it cool and he eventually asked me out to dinner.  I made sure to say all of the right things that night so he would fall in love with me.

                  “WOW! That’s awesome! Not many girls like football and the ones that I’ve met who do watch football love The Giants or The Patriots.  You’re a one of a kind girl.  You’re the kind of girl I would marry.”  He said. 

     That’s all I needed to hear.  He wanted to marry me, a huge Raiders fan.  I learned a lot about the team in a very short time, I had no choice.  About two months into our relationship he invited me to The Meadows to watch a Raiders and Giants game.  I was excited and prepared.

“I would never ask a girl to a football game but you’re different.  I think you’ll have a great time.”  He said as he handed me a plastic shopping bag.

     I looked into the bag and eagerly pulled out an oversized Raiders sweat shirt.  I immediately pulled it on over the shirt I was wearing. 

“It looks great on you!”  Pax said while I posed for him.  My plan worked, he was falling in love with me.   

     Two years later I discovered other aspects of football.  For example, there are football fans and there are crazy football fanatics.  Pax was a crazy fanatic.  He yelled at the TV, throw things across the room and get into fights at bars all over a game of football.  I was shocked the first few times I witnessed his adolescent behavior but became accustom to his antics.  It was pathetic.

                  “Let’s go to California! We’ll go see a game in Oakland.  We could both live out our dreams, together!”  Pax said one Sunday afternoon still thinking I was a Raiders fan.  I’ve always wanted to go to California so I agreed.

   I insisted on staying in San Francisco instead of Oakland, he agreed.   Our hotel was near pier 39 and I wanted to get something to eat.  Pax wanted to rest up before the game.

“The game is tomorrow, why can’t we go out tonight?”  I asked after we checked into our room.

“I don’t want to be tired.  It’s going to be a long day.  We need to rest.  Don’t you want to be fresh for the game?  It’s not everyday that people get to live out their dreams.”  He explained, as he got ready for bed.  We went to sleep.

     The excitement on Pax’s face the next morning was annoying. 

“I want to make sure we have everything.”  He said while stuffing crap into a duffel bag. 

“What do we have to bring?  We are going to a football game.”  I asked him suspiciously.   “Be careful what you put in that thing, you don’t want to carry a heavy bag all day.  Besides, they are going to search that thing.”  I said trying to see what he was packing. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll carry it.”  He said as he finished packing then headed to the door.  He was determined to bring that bag with us.  At this point, I really didn’t care what he put into that bag.  I just wanted to get this day over with so we can eat on Pier 39.

“Come on, we have to catch the bus.”   He said with a big smile.

      We took a bus to the subway and the subway to the football stadium.  Pax made a few friends along the way.  He was having such a good time with his fellow Raider fans.  It was kind of cute.  When the subway stopped moving, Pax's face lit up like a Christmas tree. 

“Are we actually here?”  Pax asked out loud. 

“Yes we are my friend!”  Replied the guy behind us then they gave each other a high five. 

     As we stepped onto the platform Pax’s body literally started to tremble.  “Are you going to be ok?”  I asked him.

“Yeah.  How are you doing?  Are you just as happy as I am right now?”  He asked in a stoic voice.

“Oh, yeah.  Totally!”  I replied remembering that I was a Raiders fan too.

      We walked among hundreds of Oakland Raider fans.  I could see we were getting closer to the stadium so I got our tickets ready as we approached the entrance gate.  I couldn’t stop staring at Pax; I have never seen him or anyone else get this excited about anything before.  

“We are so close to living our dream.”  He said over and over again. I simply smiled.

     The security guys looked through Pax’s bag, looked at me then smiled before letting us through. 

“Why is security smiling?”  I asked Pax still trying to figure out what he put in that bag. 

“Don’t worry about it.”  He said leading us through the gate. 

     Once we got inside, Pax suddenly stopped walking and just stood there in silence. 

“Are you ok?”  I asked him.  It took a while but he shook his head yes. 

     He wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me into him.   With my face buried into his muscular chest, he took in long deep breaths.  He started to say something a couple of times but stopped himself.  I didn’t want to ruin this moment so I stood there in silence.  Minutes went by and the two of us just stood there, embracing, as people walked around us.

 “Pax, um, can we go in the actual stadium please?”  I asked him trying to peal myself away from him.  He eventually released me, rested his hands on my shoulders and gazed into my eyes.   It looked as if he was about to say something very important.   Then it hit me. He was going to propose! Maybe this was the moment he was referring to when he said he was living his dream.  I got so exciting at the thought of him proposing marriage to the love of his life in the one place in the world he loved.   My heart started pounding like crazy and my face beamed with joy. 

A voice in my head screamed; “ASK ME!! SAY IT!!”  While I stared back into his eyes.  He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and finally said; “Honey.”  Then paused for a moment.

“Yes.”  I sang trying to contain my excitement.  He stood quietly, looked at me lovingly and took in another deep breath.

“Are you ok Pax?”  I asked hoping he would propose already.  He slowly shook his head yes.

“I have to go to the bathroom.  I’ll be right back.”  He finally said then kissed my forehead before he walked away with his bag.  I was disappointed and confused.  Where was my proposal?  Didn’t he have a ring in that bag?  Is being at a Raiders game in Oakland really his dream?

     After coming to terms with the fact that Pax was not going to propose, I sat and waited for him outside the men’s room.  He was taking way too much time in there but I was fine with that. I needed to recover from the last fifteen minutes of my life.

   I searched the crowd for my boyfriend but I couldn’t find him.  Rather than pacing back and forth in front of the men’s room, I decided to enjoy the scenery and sat on a bench.  Even though I had little interest in this sport, I actually enjoyed watching the excitement on everyone’s face.  There were families and couples all having a great time getting ready for the big game. Laughter and chatter filled the air along with the smell of popcorn and French fries.  Watching people always entertained me but today it made me feel like I was a part of something special.  I had a feeling this was going to be a great day after all.

     I started to worry when thirty minutes went by and still no Pax.  I stood up and cupped my hands over my eyes to shield them from the sun.   A man whose walk was strikingly similar to Pax’s emerged from the bathrooms.  It could have been him but I didn’t think this person was MY Pax.   The figure started to shout out my name but I still didn’t recognize him.  You see this man’s face was painted.  Yes, I said it. He painted his face.  His left side was silver and the right was painted black.  In addition to the face painting, he changed into his “lucky” Raider’s gym paints, the ones with the multiple holes in the butt area. He also wore a football jersey with silver spikes coming out of the shoulders. 

“You’re mad.”  He stated when reached me. 

    I didn’t know what to say.  All that I could utter was; “What are you doing?” 

    Pax raised his arms up in the air, threw his head back and screamed as loud as he could; “I’m living the dream baby! I’m living the dream! WoooHoooo!!”  I didn’t want to ruin this man’s “Dream” so I didn’t say a word.

      He slapped everyone high fives as they walked by us.  He laughed and frolicked with the other Raider’s fans.  Some people even stopped to have their picture taken with him.  It was all so strange but not as strange as when he would shout out; “I’M LIVING THE DREAM BABY! I’M LIVING THE DREAM!”   It was about the fiftieth time that he screamed out those words that I mentally checked out and started to drink, heavily. 

     Once we found our seats and the game began, his fanatic behavior escalated.  It got so bad that he actually got into a screaming match with a woman.  I wanted to die.  Somehow the guys next to us got him to calm down.  The same guys were kind enough to point out the fact that Pax had painted the colors on the wrong side of his face.  You see, the silver was supposed to be on the right side the black was supposed to be on the left.  Well, that threw him into a tizzy. 

“Give me your mirror.”  He demanded.  I handed him my compact and held in my laughter.  “I MESSED IT UP!!”  He screamed.  “This is your fault!  I thought you were going to yell at me so I had to rush.”  At first I wanted to punch him in his silver and black face but then I realized that his mistake was the best revenge. 

“It’s wrong, it’s all wrong!”  He was devastated, I tried so hard not to be jerk but I could help myself.

“So, does this mean you’re no longer living the dream?”  I asked but he was not amused.  He did become quite though, for about five minutes.  I didn’t break up with him after this trip.  Maybe I should have.

The Ritz

     I met Donna at the reservoir Saturday morning for our weekly walk.  I look forward to our walks for two reasons: exercise and mental rejuvenation.   Like me, Donna is single and is searching for the perfect guy.  Sometimes we run dating scenarios by each other to make sure we don’t end relationships prematurely or prolong the inevitable.  Once in a while, we all need a supportive friend to help us through a difficult decision.  Today was one of those days.

     “How are things going with that new guy?”  She asked referring to the guy I was dating for the past three months. 

    “I think I have to end it.”  I said reluctantly.

    “Why?  I thought things were going well and I really like him.”  She said reminding me that she was there the night we met.  If it wasn’t for Donna’s desperate pleads to be her date for the fundraising event I would have never met him.

   

“I’m the one that encouraged you to date him.  He’s cute, age appropriate, very nice and he wore a custom made tuxedo.  There aren’t many guys out there that can afford to do that.” She said trying to convince me to stick it out.

“Didn’t you two go away together last week?”  She asked keeping the conversation going.

“Not really.  I was away on business for a few days and he met me there.  He set up a meeting with his colleagues at the same hotel.  I was surprised when he told me since my company put me up at the Ritz Carleton.”  I said trying to change the subject.  I started to describe my hotel room and all of the amenities.  I even talked about the weight room where I never stepped foot in.

    

     “I know all about The Ritz.  So tell me, what happened with him?”  She asked. 

     “I can’t tell you.”  I said

     “Why not?”  She asked

     “Because if I tell you, you would have no choice but to tell me to end things and I’m not 100% sure if I should yet.”  I said still stalling.  I promised myself that I would never repeat what I saw that night.  

   

    “Spill it.” She said then stopped walking.

    We stood in the middle of one of the trail for a few seconds as I contemplated telling her what really happened.  I’ve never witnessed anything that distressing in my life and I needed more time to process it.  The look on Donna’s face told me that I ran out of time.  She refused to move until I told her what I was struggling to say.

    

           “Fine, he used foot fungus spray!”  I blurted then buried my face in my hands in embarrassment.

“So? What’s wrong with that?!”  She asked while throwing her hands in the air.

“There’s nothing wrong foot spray if he sprayed his feet with it!”  I said which confuse her more.  I could see her trying to figure out the rest of the story.

“Where did he spray it?”  She asked quietly.

“He used it on his genitals.  He said that it helps with something but I couldn’t hear him over the screaming coming from my head.”  I said anticipating laughter or maybe some words of advice.

“How do you know?”  She asked fighting the urge to laugh out loud.

            “You would think that he would be smart enough to do something that gross in the privacy of the bathroom but he didn’t!”   I said.

            “I’m afraid to ask but I need to know.  How do you know he sprayed his junk?”  Donna asked eagerly waiting to hear the whole story.

“Ok.  So he took a shower in my room because his room wasn’t ready when he got there.  I sat on the bed and read through the pamphlets I collected from the conference while I waited for him to get ready for dinner.  He walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.  He had a can of foot spray in his hand and shook the hell out of it while walking around the room.  He then proceeded to put his right foot on the bed in front of me.  I looked up to ask him something but I stopped when I saw him reach down between his legs and sprayed. I saw a huge white cloud escaping the confinements of his towel.  That alone was disgusting but then he shook things around to adjust himself.  I was shocked!”  I described the whole incident and I have to admit, it felt great talking about it.

“Well, that’s not proper Ritz Carleton behavior.”  Donna said apathetically.

“No, it really isn’t.”  I said agreeing with her.  "Maybe if we were dating a little longer or even started to fart in front of each other I wouldn't be this upset.  We haven't done anything that resembled longterm relationship behavior.  Applying foot fungus spray between your legs is not a way to break us into that."  I said trying to explain myself.

“How was dinner?”  Donna asked.

“We never went out to dinner.  I developed a headache and asked him to leave.  The Ritz has amazing room service though!”  I said.

            “I bet they do.  Have you talked to him since then?”  She asked.

            “Nope.  I think he was mad at me because I asked him to leave.  I probably could have gone to dinner with him but I just couldn’t get that image out of my head!  I think it’s over.”  I said

            “I think you might be right.”  Donna said before suggesting that we go out for drinks later that night.  

The Average Looking Guy

   My friend Lisa called one summer night.

     “We are renting a house on Block Island for a week.  Are you in?”  She asked.

     “How would I get there?”  I asked.

     “What do you mean? The ferry!”  She said.  “Get a prescription or something.  You’ll be fine, it’s only a thirty minute ride from Point Judith, Rhode Island.”  She continued knowing how much I dislike boats.

    “Ugh!! A Ferry? Really?  I’m not sure what scares me more, potentially drowning or vomiting.”  I said reminding Lisa of my fears.

    “Tell me again, what happened last time you were on a boat?”  She asked

    “I felt like I was going to die.”  I replied

    “Did you?”  She asked.

     “No.” I answered quietly.

     “That’s what I thought.  Suck it up lady! It’s going to be fun.”  She said. 

     My schedule didn’t allow me to take an entire week off from work so I agreed to meet the girls midweek.

   “I’m going over with Michelle and Jen.  Kelly is taking her truck so she’ll pick you up at the dock Thursday.”  Lisa said

   “Perfect! I’ll see you all Thursday afternoon!”  I said after our plan was finalized.

    I started my workday extra early that Thursday but I still ran late. The plan was to change out of my wrap around dress and four-inch heels between sales calls but that didn’t happen.  After a productive day of sale calls I arrived at Point Judith wearing my professional outfit instead of the cute shorts and T-shirt I planned on changing into.

   I yanked my suitcase from my car and hurried to take my place in line.  I towered over the people wearing flip-fops and I was envious.   My feet were killing me and I knew that I looked pretentious standing next to everyone.  I felt compelled to explain my attire to the cute guy behind me.

    

    “I wanted to change but didn’t have time.”  I said but he didn’t seem interested.

    “You’re up.”  He said and that was the end of my poor attempt of small talk.   

    The next ferry wasn’t leaving for over an hour so I rolled my suitcase over the gravel road and into the restroom. I freshened up my makeup, pulled my hair back in a ponytail and stuck a motion sickness patch behind my ear.   I read the instructions on the patch’s insert and it said to place it behind my ear four hours prior to the trip.  I was a little concerned but reminded myself that I was fine during my last boating excursion.  I stuck the patch on anyways figuring it was better than not wearing it at all.

    I was about to change into my vacation wear but a group of high school girls walked into the bathroom.  The annoying giggling was somewhat tolerable but the screeching and hugging got to me.  I walked out still wearing my dress.  I could have changed into my flip-flops but that would have looked ridiculous.

  I still had time to kill. I bought an order of French fries from a run down shack and sat on a bench near the docks. 

  

    “May I sit next to you?”  Asked a man carrying a huge bucket of fried food. 

    “Of course.”   I said moving my suitcase to make room for him.

     “How long are you going to be on Block Island?”  He asked between bites.

     “Through the weekend.  What about you?”  I asked The Average Looking Guy and that’s when the innocent flirting started.

     “How can you walk in those shoes?”  He asked smiling.

      “It’s not easy but I think I do ok.”  I replied.

       “Yes you do.  I noticed you pulling your luggage everywhere while wearing those things with out spraining and ankle.  I’m impressed.”  He said which made me laugh.

    

    The conversation wasn’t overly stimulating but pleasant enough to keep me engaged. We talked about the weather and traveling, like I said, nothing exciting.  He asked if I wanted to meet him for a drink while I was on Block Island.  He wasn’t drop dead gorgeous but cute enough to meet for a drink.  I gave him my cellphone number before walking towards the ferry.

   We separated while boarding the ferry but I knew he wasn’t far. I took a seat inside the vessel then strategically moved my dress to expose my crossed legs. I pulled my IPOD out of my bag and glanced over to my new friend.  He was checking me out.  I was happy.

    The ferry pulled out of the dock and I was on my way. I felt a little sleepy but ready to join my friends and party like a rock star!  My mind started to wonder as I stared out of the many windows but a soft tap on my shoulder got my attention.

    “Mind if I sit with you again?”  The Average Looking Guy asked.

    “Not at all.”  I said smiling.

    He was sweet and seemed genuine.  The longer we talked the more attractive he became which was a pleasant surprise.  I was having an intelligent conversation with a guy with some substance.  This was refreshing!

    Everything was going well with this guy.  We talked, laughed and listened to each other’s songs on our IPODs.  But then, the boat took a drastic dipped and so did my stomach. 

“What the hell was that?”  I thought. I didn’t want to alarm my new friend so I ignored my desire to scream and concentrated on every word he said. 

     “Are you ok?”  He asked

     “Yup, I’m fine.”  I lied.

     About three minutes later, the boat took another dip and a wave of anxiety washed over me.

     “What the hell was that?”  I whispered.

      “Excuse me?”  He asked.

      “Nothing, I’m sorry.  What were you saying again?”  I asked trying to regain control of my emotions.    

 

    He continued to talk about something but I couldn’t follow him.  I was seriously concerned about the remainder of this trip. Just as I talked myself out of shrieking, the ferry took another huge dip.  I couldn’t ignore it anymore.  I needed air.  I reached down to my lap for my IPOD and wrapped the wire around it before placing it in my bag. 

     “Will you excuse me?”  I asked as politely as possible.  He asked me if I was ok but I didn’t answer him.

    I got up slowly and gracefully walked towards the door.  My goal was to get outside without making a scene.  I reached the door and gently tugged on it, it wouldn’t open.  I looked back at my The Average Looking Guy but he moved back to his own seat and proceeded to read a newspaper.  I pulled the door a little harder but it still wouldn’t move. The panic I suppressed the last fifteen minutes finally over took me.  I felt my heart pounding and my body broke into a cold sweat. I needed to get outside and fast. 

    I grabbed the handle to the door with both hands and yanked on it like a mental patient, it just wouldn’t open! I turned to the family sitting next to the door.  With the look of desperation on my face, I grabbed the shoulders of the closest man and looked directly into his eyes.

    “For the love of god, you have to help me!  I can’t open the door.  PLEASE open it before I throw up all over your family!”  I pleaded as saliva pooled in the corners of my mouth.

He jumped up and pulled the door handle but he couldn’t open it either.  He looked at his children and then at me, in horror.

 

     “The latch is hooked on the top of the door!! Unlock the top latch and get her out of here!”  Screamed a woman from the back of the ferry. 

    “GOT IT!!”  Said the father of three.

   

    He flung open the door and shoved me outside.  The wind felt so good on my face and I thought that I was going to be ok.  I was wrong.  The ferry took another dip and I threw my upper body over the railing.  The fries I ate an hour earlier exploded all over the ocean along with my dignity.  I hoped that no one noticed, especially my potentially new boyfriend. 

    I wanted to get back inside to flirt with The Average Looking Guy again but I needed to be sure that I was going to be okay. I stood outside for a few minutes and loved the way the wind felt on my face.  I struggled to keep my dress away from my head and then it hit me.  If the material of my dress is surrounding my head, then what is covering my body?   I reached behind me and felt skin. I freaked out! I looked down at myself and noticed that my dress wasn’t covering as much of my body as it was when I walked on.  It was mortifying!! I grabbed a hold of my dress to pull it down but the boat took a sudden plunge and I threw myself over the side again.

     Once every ounce of fluid left my body, I revisited the issue at hand, my dress.  I franticly pulled it down but the wind wasn’t’ cooperating.  My pretty wrap around dress was staying on by a flimsy string and the only thing I could do was to curse like I’ve never cursed before!  When I pulled the front of my dress closed the back of my dress flew up.  I wasn’t sure what upset me more, exposing my thirty eight-year old cellulite covered butt to the world or vomiting like a loser.

    It wasn’t easy but I somehow managed to tuck my dress between my knees, which kept it from flying up.  I prayed that no one saw me.  I looked so pretty and put together when I walked onto this social death trap. I even met a nice boy who I could see myself dating.  I hope that this debacle of a trip didn’t turn him off.

  “We’re almost there!” A man yelled from the door.  I gave him thumbs up but I didn’t turn around for two reasons. 

#1 I didn’t want to lose my balance and fly off the ferry

#2 I didn’t want to flash everyone again.

    A few minutes later, I felt a tap on my back.  I thought for sure it was The Average Looking Guy.  A comforting smile or even a soft embrace from him would have been nice.  It was a struggle but I managed to smile before turning around.   I was disappointed to find an elderly man standing behind me instead of The Average Looking Guy.  

“May I come closer to you?”  The seventy-year old man asked while waving a bunch of napkins.  I nodded “yes”.

“Don’t be embarrassed.   This happens to a lot of people.”  He said trying to make me feel better. 

“Did everyone see me get sick?” I asked while wiping my face with a napkin.

“Well, yes we did.”  He replied then handed me bottled water.

“Did anyone see anything else?”  I asked

“Yes.  Yes we did but don’t worry about it.  It’s really not a big deal” He replied which made me laugh.

 “Yeah, right!”  I said then turned back towards the water and started to dry heave.  He threw his jacket over me to keep my dress from flying up. 

   The elderly man was kind enough to stay outside with me for the rest of the trip.  He tried to make small talk but I couldn’t hear him over the wind. I was able to hear him ask about The Average Looking Guy.

    “I would never let my wife get sick alone.  You might want to get rid of that boyfriend of yours.  He should have been out here with you.”  He said sounding like my father.

    “I just met while waiting for the ferry.  He’s not my boyfriend.”  I explained.

     “Oh good! You deserve a real man.”  He said smiling. 

   

    He was right! I do deserve a real man.  If the tables were turned and The Average Looking Guy was getting sick, I would have been right there by his side.  Ok, so maybe not exactly by his side while he was vomiting but I would have handed him napkins when he got done. 

   

   We finally docked on Block Island and I went back in the cabinet to collect my things.  My new boyfriend disappeared but the elderly man didn’t leave my side.  I couldn’t thank him enough as we walked towards the street.  I assured him that my friend would be there shortly and that I was going to be ok.  He wished me well then left me sitting alone on a bench.

     Kelly pulled up ad honked the horn. I climbed into the truck, quickly. 

“What the hell happened to you?” She asked

“Don’t worry about it, just get me to the house.  I need a nap.” I said. 

“Did you throw up?  Oh my GOD, you did!!”  She said while laughing hysterically. 

“It wasn’t pretty Kelly, I feel like I’m going to die.” I said.

“You were on the water for only 30 minutes! You seriously got sick?  Didn’t you get that patch thing?”  She asked along with a million of other questions between laughter.

I couldn’t help but laugh too.

            “Kelly, seriously, get me home.  I need to lay down.  I don’t think I’m going to make it out to night.”  I said while sticking my head out of the passenger side window. 

“You have to rally! It’s your first night here and you have to catch up to us.”  She said. 

“Really Kelly? Does it look like I’m in any condition to catch up to you guys?”  I asked.  “You’ll feel better after a nap and a shower.”  She assured me. 

   

   When we got to the house I marched inside and headed up to a bedroom.

“Hello! Ewe! You are taking a shower before we go out, right?”  Lisa asked.

 “Shut up.”  I replied as I crawled up the stairs.

            “What the hell happened to you?” Michelle asked when I walked into the bedroom we shared.

            “You look awful.” She continued as I slithered into the bed and buried my head into my pillow. 

“Is the room spinning?” I asked Michelle

“I need this room to stop spinning.”  I said while pealing the worthless patch from behind my ear and closed my eyes.

  

      My friends were right.  I felt a million times better after a long nap and shower.  We went out that night and had a blast!

     The Average Looking Guy didn’t call me that weekend or any other weekend.  I really can’t blame him. I said that I would have stood by his side if the tables were turned but I lied.  We only knew each other for a total of forty-five minutes before I mooned everyone on the ferry.  Vomiting can forgiven but Indecent exposer is a difficult thing to over look. 

The Typical Sales Guy

Michelle and I went to a tequila bar in New Haven after dinner one fall night.   The cliental here is usually middle-aged professional white-collar men but not tonight.  There was some sporting event on all of the TVs and the suit wearing men were replaced with young guys wearing tight fitted tee shirts.  I rolled my eyes at Michelle as we searched for a quite area away from the obnoxiously loud jackasses.

We finally found a spot in the back of the bar near a group of guys who looked closer to our age.  I looked over the men and spotted him, The Typical Sales Guy. 

He was sitting on a bar stool but I could tell he was tall and well dressed.  His wavy light brown hair and sharp blue eyes were hard to ignore but I wasn’t sure how cute he really was. I needed to find out.  

“Just push your way in there.  He is blocking us from the bartender.”  Michelle suggested knowing I was plotting my next move.  

“Wait, Is he cute?  I can’t tell.”  I asked.

“I think so.  Get a better look and get us a drink while you’re at it.”  She suggested slightly pushing me in his direction. 

I excused myself before leaning on the bar next to him.

“Hello.  I’m Phil.”  He said extending his hand.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.”  I said while shaking his hand.

“I figured I might as well introduce myself since we’re so close to each other.”  He said with a huge smile, he was really cute.

I let out a flirty giggle and the standard bar banter took place.  Within minutes, he went in for the kill.

 “Can I have your number?”  He asked. 

“That was quick.  I don’t know if I want you to have my number yet.”  I replied.  It was a stupid line but I was serious.  Other than being a hot guy, I didn’t know anything about him.

   “Are you single?”  I asked

   “Yup.”  He replied immediately.  I wasn’t going to accept his quick response that easily. 

   “Let me rephrase that question.  Are you married? Engaged? Dating? Have a friend with benefits? Hanging out with a woman who thinks you are dating?”  I asked waiting for a response.

“I didn’t know there were so many levels of being single.”  He said.

“Neither did I but apparently there are.” I explained.

 The look of horror that appeared on Michelle’s was priceless.  A few seconds after I asked Phil my ridiculous question Michelle mouthed, “You blew it.” 

He didn’t say a word so we just stood there, in silence.  Michelle might have been right; it looked like I blew it.

“You are a no bullshit kind of girl, I like that.  I don’t fall into any of those categories.  Now, can I have your number?”  He said breaking the silence.

I gave him my number.

    After multiple telephone conversations we made plans to go out to dinner.  He arrived at my condo on time and with a box of Italian pastries.  I invited him in and thanked him for the box of goodies.   He made himself comfortable on my couch as I went into the kitchen to put the pastries in my fridge and poured us a glass of wine.  I handed him a glass and the date officially started.

    He told me he was in sales the night we met but that was all he said about his career.  During our conversation tonight I learned that he worked for his family’s business selling special tools. 

  “I’m the best salesman anyone has ever seen.  I could sell anything to anyone.”  He said then listed all of his accomplishments.  “My territory is the entire Northeast and I own it.”  He said confidently.

I didn’t interrupt him as he bragged about himself but I did want him to shut up.  

   I really wanted this to work out.  He was age appropriate, geographically desirable and attractive.  Not to mention the fact that he was financially stable.  He was perfect on paper; I just wish he would stop talking.  He was ruining a perfectly good potential relationship.  I stayed focused on his pretty face and tuned him out but it was difficult.

“I have a condo in Florida and my family owns a house in Italy.”  He said which was a game changer.  I pictured myself vacationing in Italy while he kept on saying stupid shit.

 “So, are you packing?”  He asked.  It took me a while for that question to register.  I thought he was talking about my imaginary trip to Italy but then he patted his pocket.  I still wasn’t sure what he was referring to so I just looked at him.  He must of known I was confused because he raised his hand and pointed his fingers like a gun.

 “I’m sorry, are you asking me if I carry a gun?”  I asked trying to clarify the question.

“Yeah, a gun.  You know, us sales people have to protect ourselves.”  He explained. 

“From what?”  I asked wondering if he brought a gun into my home. 

“What do you mean from what?  From other people.  I’m a member of NRA and you should be too.”  He said standing up.  

  The next ten minutes consisted of Phil quoting some Politian and building a case for everyone to carry guns.  I wish I did have a gun at this point so I could have shot him.

“I don’t think I want a gun” I started to explain as I stood up to walk into my kitchen but he interrupted me.

“Ahhhhhh mannnnn.  You are all legs.  Take off those kickers.  I want to see how tall you really are.” 

For those of you who don’t know what “kickers” are, they are shoes.  I assure you that my sling back open toe stilettos are not “kickers.”  

“Are you serious?”  I asked him in disbelief.  

I wondered where the well-spoken, normal guy I met in the bar went and how this crass man got into my home.

“Yeah I’m serious.  At least take off one shoe.”   He asked as his creep factor grew. I took off one shoe and for a second pictured myself ramming the heel into his eye. 

“Yuuuummmm….you are one tall drink of water.”  He said while licking his lips and shaking his head.  I immediately put my shoe back on.  I felt like I was walking through a construction site in my own living room!

  “Ok, ready to go?”  I asked grabbing my handbag and guiding him out the front door. 
At the risk of sounding desperate, I really wanted this to work out so I ignored his stupid comments.  After all, they were complements, right?  Ok so the gun thing was a little strange but I don’t have to agree with everything he says.

He started to apologize for his comments on our ride to the restaurant but then he went into a sales pitch.

“Look. We both have charisma, charm and the appeal most people dream of having.  I noticed you as soon as you walked into the bar last week and I know you noticed me.  I like you so far.  I think we have something good here.”  He said.    

I wasn’t sure if he was complementing himself or me.  Either way, I guess he was saying all of the right things.  I needed to stay positive.

“So what do you think?  Are you in? Let’s make heads turn together.”  He said as if he was closing a deal.  

I didn’t answer him instead I decided to ignore his stupid comments the rest of the night.  Maybe to him they weren’t stupid comments.  Maybe I was just being a bitch.  I reminded myself to STAY POSITIVE!

   The restaurant he took me was very cool.   He started to act normal again and I thought that this just might work out.  How could I be upset with him?  He was just expressing himself in the only way he knew how.  He wasn’t that bad, a little rough around the edges but not a bad person. Once I convinced myself into staying positive, I started to really enjoying myself.    

We left the restaurant and headed home.  Once we got on the highway he asked if he could stop at a liquor store for some beer.  

“I’m tired of drinking wine.  I’d like to switch to beers for the rest of the night.”  He explained as he got off the next exit.

“Ah, Ok I guess.”  I said. 

“I know where all of the liquor stores are in the state of Connecticut.”   He said proudly. 

I was not impressed.  I was actually a little concerned.   He pulled into a parking stall and ran into the store.  I whispered; “Stay positive” over and over again while he was gone.

 After a few minutes, he emerged from the door with a twelve pack of Budweiser.  My positive thoughts quickly shifted to loud warning sirens. 

“What are you going to do with all of that beer?”  I asked as he opened the back car door and threw it on the seat. 

“Drink it.  It’s only twelve beers.  I assume I could crash at your place if I need to.”  He said while pulling a bottle out of the case and opened it. 

“Are you going to drink that now?”  I asked.

 “Yes I am.”  He said before taking a huge gulp. 

“You do know that it’s illegal to drink and drive, right?”  I said sounding like his mother. 

“It’s only illegal if you get caught.”  He said smiling then gave me a wink. 

I wanted to punch him repeatedly and scream; “You are ruining everything! We could have had something here!” But I didn’t say a word.  Mostly because I knew I would have suggested that he drives directly to an Alcoholic Anonymous meeting.

 He pulled into my driveway, turned off the engine and jumped out of the car.  He opened the door to his back seat and pulled the twelve-pack out of the car.  He threw the beer over his left shoulder and walked towards my front door.   

“I guess you want to come in.”  I said unlocking the door. 

 He walked into my home and put the beer in my fridge.  He grabbed another bottle from the cardboard box and then looked at me.  I could tell he was going to try to kiss me.  I couldn’t let that happen.  I grabbed the refrigerator door and pulled out the box of pastry he brought over earlier. 

“I can’t wait to eat one of these things.” I said struggling to open the white box. 

“Yeah, I can’t wait either.”  He said still staring at me. 

The ride home was a deal breaker.  No positive thought or a kiss was going to change my mind! It's OVER!

I finally got the box open and pulled out a powder sugar covered cannoli and shoved it into my mouth. 

“This is so good!”  I proclaimed with a mouth full of ricotta filling.   

He waited patiently while I finished the entire cannoli then leaned in for a kiss.  I dodged his attempts and seized another pastry. 

“These are amazing!” I said while chomping on another creamed filled treat.  

“I’m really full and tired.  Thank you for dinner.  Maybe we can do this again.”  I said as I started to walk out of the kitchen.

 “Seriously?”  He asked me. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry.  It’s getting late.”  I said noticing 9:30 pm on the  microwave oven clock.

  Again he asked, “Seriously?”  I responded with a flirty “Yes, I’m sorry.”  

“I’ll just leave the beer here so it’ll be here when I come over again.”  He said walking towards the door.  “No, why don’t you just take it.  I don’t have room for it here.”  I said running back into the kitchen to pull the twelve-pack out of the refrigerator.  He reluctantly took the case from me and walked out of my condo.   

He sent me a text about an hour later.  I read it while eating another cannoli and drinking a glass of wine.  He apologized for being so forward.  I thanked him for an entertaining evening.  I never saw him again.