The Business Associate

            I met this guy at a bar.  Actually, a friend I run into every time I go to this particular bar introduced us.  My friend was happily married and loved to hear my dating stories.  They made him feel good about being out of the dating world.

            “I want to introduce you to someone.  He’s a REALLY nice guy.”  He said

            “That’s what everyone says.”  I said

            “Ha!  True but this guy really is.  Look, I’m trying to get him to move here to help me with my business. “ He explained.

            “So, you’re pimping me out?”  I asked

            “Sort of.”  He admitted.

            “No thank you.”  I said

            “Come on!  Go on one date, that’s all I’m asking, just one little tiny date.  What do you have to lose?  You’re single, he’s single; you two are a perfect match.”  He said.

            “We are a perfect match because we are both single?”  I asked

            “Yes.  Just meet him.”  He said

            Before I had the chance to argue his ridiculous statement; a 6’3” bald man appeared and the formal introductions were made.  He was sort of cute, if you like the football player type.  Personally, I don’t. 

            “So it’s all set then.  I’ll see you Wednesday night at 6.”  The Business Associate said as I collected my things to leave.

            “Sure, whatever.  See you there.”  I replied.

            I had a bad feeling about this guy but what the hell, I could be wrong.  He could end up being the love of my life.  I arrived at the restaurant on time and walked towards the bar area.  I noticed that the friend who introduced me to The Business Associate was leaning up against the bar.

            “What are you doing here?”  I asked

            “I wanted to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”  He said

            “What do you mean?  I thought you said he was a nice guy.”  I said.

            “He is but he’s a typical guy and sometimes men do stupid things.  I don’t want him to end up being another bad date story.  I figured I would be here just in case.”   He explained

            “Well, thank you, I guess.”  I said

            I found a table in the bar area and made myself comfortable.   My friend kept me company while I waited for my date.  It was 6:15 and there was no sign of The Business Associate.  I wanted to leave but my friend insisted that I stayed.  Part of me thought I was being tricked.  Maybe my friend, who was married, wanted to meet me tonight.  Maybe he was secretly in love with me and figured he would lie about fixing me up so he could take me out on a date.  I was about to lecture him on being faithful when The Business Associate walked in, twenty minutes late.  I wasn’t happy and made sure he knew it.  He apologized then did some stupid male handshake crap with our mutual friend.  The waitress brought over appetizers and drinks and our friend took a seat at the bar. 

            Within five minutes of the date, I knew I didn’t like this guy.  Within fifteen minutes I wanted to leave.   I couldn’t pretend to be impressed by the fancy schools he attended or know the people he named dropped.  I tried to find something in common with him but was unsuccessful.  I started to politely wrap things up when he invited me to a weekend away.

            “Are you serious?  You are inviting me to romantic weekend in Newport RI?  Next weekend?”  I asked

            “I am.  Newport is beautiful and I could see us having a great time there.”  He said.

            “I’m familiar with Newport but I don’t know you.  Why would I leave Connecticut to go on a second date with a stranger in another state?  Not just a date; a romantic weekend!  Don’t you think that’s a little extravagant? How do I know you’re not going to kill me and leave my body to rot?  No thank you, I don’t want to end up being a missing person.”  I said.

            “Do you really think I would harm you?”  He asked.

            “I don’t know but I’m not willing to find out!”  I said.

            “I’ll get us separate rooms if you’d like.”  He said

            “No thank you.” I said again.

            I pulled my sweater off the back of my chair and grabbed my wallet out of bag.  I looked across the table and saw the disappointed look on his face.  I felt bad for him and got mad at myself for being mean.  I didn’t have to accuse him of being a murderer, I could have simply said no. 

            “I’m sorry.  I know you wouldn’t kill me.  I just don’t feel comfortable going away with you.”  I said.

            “It’s ok, I sort of understand.”  He said.

           

            I felt better after my apology.  He asked if I wanted anything else; I didn’t.  I asked what how much money I should leave for the tab but He didn’t answer me.  Instead he pushed out his lips and started to pout.  He then tilted his head down and raised his eyebrows.

            “What are you doing?’  I asked but he didn’t answer me.

            “Are you pouting?”  I asked and he nodded his head yes.

            “Can you please stop that?”  I said and he shook his head no.

            “Seriously.  Stop!  You look like an idiot!”  I whispered loudly.

            Our mutual friend jumped off his bar chair and ran over to our table. 

           

            “What are you doing?”  He asked The Business Associate.

            “I’m trying to get a second date.”  He replied still pouting.

            “That’s how you try to get a second date?!”  He asked.

            The Business Associate bobbed his head up and down.  Our mutual friend was just as mortified as I was. 

            “You got this?”  I asked my friend

            “Yup.  I’m sorry.”  He said as I walked away from the hot mess.

I never heard from The Business Associate again.  I did see my friend a couple of months later.  We pretended that my date never happened.    

Thank You

I just wanted to take a minute to thank you all for reading my blog.  I am deeply flattered each time you comment on my facebook/twitter page and approach me in person to tell me how much you love my stories.  I'm also thrilled when I hear that you've encouraged others to check out my blog!  Your complements and support are overwhelming and very much appreciated.

THANK YOU ALL VERY, VERY MUCH!!!!

Boston Boy

           It was a sweltering summer day and I couldn’t wait to get out of my car and into my boyfriend’s air-conditioned apartment.  That’s right, I said it, my boyfriend.  I finally got one and his apartment complex had a pool! Bonus!!   

We met at a friend’s party in Boston and his interest in me was a complete surprise.  He was a few years younger than me and lived over an hour away so when he emailed then called me, I was a little suspicious.  What did this 6’2” Bostonian want from me?   After a couple of conversations and a few dates it became clear that he wanted me to be his girlfriend.  I wasn’t sure if I was ready for this title but what the hell, he was nice enough.  I was in!

“The air conditioning in my car isn’t working.  I hope the frozen blueberries I’m bringing for tomorrow’s poolside party survives.”  I said to Boston Boy as I sat in traffic on the Mass Pike.

“They should be fine.  I have to warn you, I’m a little crabby.”  He said

“I am too and this traffic isn’t helping.  Would you be ok if we stay in tonight?  I’m exhausted.”  I asked

“Of course.  I was hoping you would say that.  We’ll get take out and watch a movie.”  He said.

“Sounds good to me!”  I said and prayed that the traffic would let up.

Three hours later, I was sitting on Boston Boy’s couch and replying to work emails while he was on-line trying to claim a free movie.  He was having a difficult time and was very vocal about it.  For some reason, this genius couldn’t figure out how to claim a free movie. I suggested that he call customer service but he didn’t want to do that.  I suggested that we watch whatever was on TV and he whined that he earned a free movie and that he was going to claim it.  I offered to pay for the stupid movie but he didn’t want my money.  I didn’t have a choice; I had to ignore him to avoid an argument, just like a real girlfriend. 

I finally lost my patience when he let out an irritating whimper.  I wanted to shake him and scream  “ZIP IT!”  Instead, I asked him to walk away from the T.V, out of the apartment and get us dinner.  Thankfully, he left and I was able to finish my work, change out of my suit and pour myself a glass of wine.  Ok, I was officially ready to be a good girlfriend.  

Together, we transferred the food from cartons to plates and got cozy on the couch.  The food was pretty good but the red wine was crap.  I didn’t care though, I had a boyfriend and we were doing boyfriend/girlfriend stuff.  I didn’t think I would ever be this happy.  I have eaten in the finest restaurants, sipped on expensive wine and traveled to exciting places for dates (all things I love to do).  But there was something special about balancing a plate of food on my lap with this guy that trumped it all.   

Boston Boy cleared his throat while I enjoyed the moment.  I looked over at him to see if he was ok.  He had a smile on his face; which made me smile.  I finally got what I’ve always wanted and I was happy.

            “You know, you beat out a 24 year old.”  He said arrogantly.

            “Pardon?”  I asked completely surprised.

            “I could be with a 24year old girl right now but instead, I’m with you.”  He explained.

I put down my fork and took a sip of wine while I put my thoughts together.  I wracked my brain trying to remember when the hell I entered a contest to win this jackass of a prize.  I had so many questions and one of them was why would he want to ruin this?

“What are you talking about?”  I asked calmly

“Like I said, I could be on a date with a twenty-four year old girl tonight but instead, I’m here with you.”  He repeated.

            I remained calm while I thought of the right thing to say.  Clearly the perfect moment was ruined but I didn’t think it was worth breaking up over.  I decided to chalk this up to a guy saying something stupid until I noticed that he was still smiling; I couldn’t let it go

            “So, tell me about this girl.”  I said and I have no idea why.

            As he described this stunningly beautiful twenty-four year old blonde, I ran through the events from my day and what a pain in the ass it was to get to Boston.  I thought about the outfits I packed, the ingredients I lugged from CT to make the perfect summer cocktail and how excited I was about spending the weekend with my boyfriend.  I looked over at him again and watched his eyes dance as he talked about the twenty-year old.  I knew I couldn’t ignore this.

“By all means, if there is anyone in the world that you would prefer to be with right now, please go be with that person.  Don’t let ME stop you.”  I said

“Don’t be mad, it’s a compliment.”  He said

“A compliment?  What world do you live in that makes you think that any part of that statement would be complimentary? Saying I have pretty eyes is a compliment, not this crap!  How would you feel if I told you I TOO could be with a twenty-something year old guy?”  I asked.

            Our argument escalated and eventually I said “whatever” and dropped it.  I wanted to salvage my weekend and this relationship.  I knew that we would have our share of arguments so I guess this was our first fight.  I went into the kitchen to infuse the blueberries with Vodka then went to bed.  I was exhausted from it all.

            I almost forget about our fight the next morning when he asked if he could play golf with a friend on Sunday.  I told him that it sounded like a good day for him and that I would be able to get home early enough to have lunch with my parents.  Our second argument ensued.  Apparently, he wanted me to say that I would sit in his apartment and wait for him.  Well, that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen.  After an exchange of about a million “But Babes” he admitted that he never had plans to play, he just wanted to see what I would say.  Really!?!?  Is this what having a boyfriend is like?  Hurtful statements and insecurity games? 

My friends arrived while Boston Boy and I were fighting.  I was relieved to see them and no one knew that I was yelling only twenty minutes earlier.  I really needed a drink to get through the day and I was dying to try the blueberry cocktail I put together.

            “Is this a bad time to tell you that I don’t care for blueberries?”  Boston Boy asked as I handed him a glass.

            “Are you allergic to blueberries?”  I asked.

            “No, I just don’t like them.”  He explained.

            “Don’t drink it.”  I said as I pulled the glass away from him.

            He grabbed his glass and carefully sipped it.  He gave me his approval and I stopped myself from punching him.  It was over, all I needed to do was play out this weekend and lots of vodka was required.

My plan of getting drunk worked so I knew nothing could bother me now.  I didn’t even care when Boston Boy went shopping with my friend and me and freaked out when I bought an $80 dress.  He felt that the $80 should have gone into our retirement fund.  I was confused so he broke it down for me.

Apparently he didn’t like the fact that I “get” to retire before him.  The thought of him going to work while I stayed home in about twenty-five years upset him.  Seriously, he was visibly upset.  I’ve been working my ass off since I was fifteen years old and no one will ever tell me how to spend the money I’ve earned.  As for my retirement plan; I don’t see him living with me at an Assistant Living facility on a beach with a decent bar.  He’ll totally get in my way of staring at the ocean, playing bingo and flirting at happy hour. 

This was the final argument and it lasted the longest.  I didn’t care how happy I thought I was or how sweet this guy pretended to be; I was done!   After a couple of phone conversations and an awkward dinner it was over. I could have sucked it up and ignore the weekend from hell; at least I would still have a boyfriend.  Ahhhhh….screw it, no man is worth all of this aggravation.

The Happy Irish Guy

            I spent hours creating the perfect on-line dating profile and my friends played a huge role in editing it.  The goal was to have a cute and informative summary to capture the attention of a quality man.  My other goal was to get my lazy ass off my couch and go on a date!  I couldn’t remember the last time I had dinner with potential boyfriend plus, it was summer and I was bored.

            I made sure to include the important crap like how much I LOVE hiking and good conversation. The other important detail I needed to share was the fact that I was 99.9% sure that I didn’t want to have children.  Thankfully there was a box I could just check of regarding reproducing.  The good thing was that a lot of the age appropriate men on this dating site were single dads.  Most of them were not interested in having more children and I was fine with that.

            On-line courting was tedious and annoying but eventually I got a face-to-face date with The Happy Irish Guy.  I wore a cute summer dress and wedges; he wore cargo shorts, a tee shirt and flip-flops.  I didn’t judge, I smiled and said it was nice to meet him. 

            “Sorry I’m late, I couldn’t find this place!”  He said as he sat on the bar chair next to mine.

            “That’s ok.”  I said.

            “I’m glad you're not one of those girls that gets pissed off at everything.”  He said.

            “Oh.  Okay then.”  I replied politely.

           

            My first impression wasn’t good but he won me over.  We started out with the typical small talk stuff and his robust laugh was infectious.  He showed me a picture of his red headed six-year old son and immediately explained that he got his red hair from his Irish ancestors.  He was very proud of his Irish heritage and I thought that was charming.  I’m not sure if it was the alcohol but I was having fun.  I noticed that we were the only two sitting at the bar but the bartenders didn’t seem to mind.  I could tell they were listening to us but I didn’t care.  Well, I didn’t care at first.

            “So, you really don’t want to have children?”  He asked

            “I really don’t.  When I was younger I wanted to have three kids, two boys and a girl, but that didn’t happen.  I’m older now and the thought of childbirth and raising children exhausts me.  I’m honestly not interested in having kids but I think I would make a great stepmother!”  I explained. 

I was proud of my reply.  I thought I won some points there!

            “You’re not too old!  I could see you having a couple of kids.  I want to have four more!”  He said.

            “Really.  Your profile said you didn’t want to have more kids.”  I said.

            “I didn’t think I did until I met you!”  He said.

            I freaked out.  What the hell does that mean?  What could I have possibly said to make him change his mind about having kids?  Now what do I do?

            “I’m not sure what to say.”  I said nervously.

            “There’s nothing to say!  I think we could do this, we could have four kids together.”  He said

            “But I don’t want four kids.”  I said smiling.

            “Yes you do.  You would be a wonderful mother.   Besides, our daughters would be beautiful!”  He said

            “I’m sure that if I had daughters that they would be beautiful.  However, I don’t want to find out.  I don’t want to have children.”  I explained.

            I could tell that the bartenders were trying not to listen but how could they not?  Our good conversation was going bad quickly.  I wanted to ask him why he thought I would make a wonderful mother.  He has only known me for two hours and twelve minutes and I’ve been on my best behavior.  He doesn’t know that snot running down a child’s face makes me gag or that I think medicating a child to get them to sleep is a great idea.  (Don’t freak out, I know it’s wrong)

            I changed the subject many times but he kept bringing it back to knocking me up.  The more he tried to convince me to have children the more adamant I was in not having them.  He described a life of sleepless nights and diaper changing and I was not impressed.  He called himself the baby whisperer and I begged him not to elaborate but he did.  Apparently he has a way to get a baby to stop crying.  I wanted to know if he had a way to shut his own mouth!

 I planned my escape as he described how he used to cradle his infant son and sang a lullaby.  Then he did the most bizarre thing I have ever been a part of.  He leaned his head over my lap and dangled his hands over my abdomen.  As his fingers danced over my stomach he sang:

            “Don’t you want a little baby growing in your belly?” as his fingers lingered over me.

            I was shocked! I immediately looked over at the bartenders and noticed they were trying not to laugh.  I wanted to disappear.  I also wanted to beat the hell out this guy.  How dare he humiliate me like this?  It was time for me to end this date!  I gently pushed him away from me then checked my phone.  I’m not sure what excuse I made but whatever I said worked.  Before I knew it, I was driving home and on the phone with one of my girlfriends.  She thought he was a dream come true and wondered why I didn’t think he was a great catch.  I reminded my friend whom she was talking to and she laughed. 

I couldn’t help thinking that if the tables were turned and I was the one talking about babies, I would be described as a middle aged, baby crazed woman.  A man talks about children on the first date and he’s a dream come true.  Interesting. 

A Girl's Night Out

      “What kind of stain is this?”  The girl working at the dry cleaner asked.

     I didn’t know what the hell kind of stain it was but I had to tell her something.  I wracked my brain trying to come up with a cleaver story but couldn’t come up with anything.  So I cleared my throat a few times and repeated her question.   She picked up the dress, shook it out and placed it on the counter with the stain facing up.  I thought back to the previous night and tried to create a believable story.

     It was a beautiful summer’s day and I had an awful workweek.  I craved a perfectly chilled glass of white wine and a great dinner.  I called a few friends but they all had plans.  It was Friday night and a bowl of cold cereal wasn’t going to cut it.  I decided that I was going out to dinner alone.  Men do it all the time, why can’t women? I do it when I travel for work, why not when I’m in my own town. That was it!  I was treating myself to dinner in one of the area’s popular restaurants. 

      I went home to freshen up and checked myself out in a full-length mirror.  I looked pretty good after schlepping inhalers in and out of doctor’s offices throughout this hot summer day.  I gave myself a pep talk as I walked my dog then headed to the restaurant.  The restaurant was crowed and I will admit that I was a little intimidated.  I didn’t see an open table so I didn’t ask the hostess for one.  I was perfectly ok with eating at the bar so I just needed the happy hour crowd to finish up.  I ordered a glass of wine and waited patiently for someone to leave.  It didn’t take long for one seat to become available.  As I sat in the tall chair I thought that this would have taken forever if I had a friend with me.  Two seats at the bar are a rare find at 6pm. 

            “Isn’t this great? Two independent women sitting at the bar having dinner.”  The woman next to me said.

            “Yes it is great!”  I said.

            “My name is Karen.”  She said and the pleasant small talk began.

     She was a very nice person and so were the bartenders.  As a matter of fact, everyone in the bar was super nice! I was surprisingly comfortable among theses people and the couple drinks my new male friends bought me were delicious.  Karen had to leave so one of the men standing behind me took over her seat. 

            “I come here for dinner all the time.  You have to try the tuna.”  He said.

            “That’s what I ordered.”  I replied with a smile.

    

     It was easy to flirt with this guy.  He was cute, intelligent and I had three glasses of wine in me.  I checked his ring finger before I continued to bat my eyes and toss my hair back.  He wasn’t wearing a wedding band but this guy was too good of a catch to be single.  I asked a couple of stupid questions and he simply smiled.

“If you’re wondering if I’m single the answer is yes.”  He said. 

     I was thrilled!  So far going out to dinner alone was working out beautifully!  We exchanged bad date stories, which turned into a little competition.  I had to pull out the big guns; I told him about fish guy.  Needless to say, I won.

     It was getting late and I needed to stop at the pharmacy before going home.  I excused myself and said good-bye to my new friends.

            “Hope to see you here again next week.”  My new cute male friend said.

            “I’ll be here!” I said as I walked away.

     Dinner was amazing, the people were a lot of fun and I met a good guy!  I floated out of the restaurant and promised myself that I would do that at least once a week.  The people I passed on the sidewalk smiled at me.  The kid in the parking lot booth let me go without paying and all the traffic lights turned green as I approached them.  It turned out to be a fabulous Friday night! 

  

     I sashayed into the pharmacy and exchanged friendly banter with Ed, the pharmacist.   He kept solid eye contact with me as he spoke.  He was extra friendly tonight and was smiling from ear to ear.  I thanked him and asked what his plans were for the upcoming weekend.  His eyes were locked on mine as he described a weekend of picnics and gardening.

    My dog Emma greeted me when I opened my condo door.  I scooped her up into my arms and carried her upstairs and into my bedroom.  I unzipped my tan dress then unhooked my bra.  I felt an oily film on my hand and freaked out a little. 

            “What the hell is that?  Where did that come from?”  I asked Emma

     She just looked at me and yawned.  I looked down and noticed that a shiny substance covered my entire chest area.  I picked up Emma to see if she peed on me when I picked her up but she was dry.  I franticly ran into the bathroom.  Whatever this oily crap was it needed to come off and fast.   I jumped into the tub and scrubbed my body raw. 

     After my intense shower, I put on my oversized Rod Stewart Tee-shirt then picked my bra off my bedroom floor. 

            “What the hell is that?”  I asked Emma again as I investigated my puffy bra.

     My bra was saturated with the same oily crap that was all over my body.  I looked closer and noticed that only the left side was drenched but it was spreading to the right.  I squeezed both sides of my bra and found tiny bubbles sewed into both sides.  The left one was obviously deflated.  I had no idea that my bra was padded with oily packets.  I laughed out loud as I stepped over my tan dress.  My laughter quickly subsided when I noticed a huge oily circle on my dress. 

            “NO WAY!”  I yelled as I picked up dress.

     The oil substance from the popped bubble seeped through my dress.  I wondered how long I was walking around with a big stain over the left breast area of my dress.  I wondered if anyone at the bar noticed specifically that guy I met! I retraced my entire night to see if I could pin point the exact moment when my bra exploded.  I didn’t remember hearing pop but clearly it happened!

            “NO, NO, NO, NO, NO……” I repeated over and over again.  I put the dress back on to see how noticeable the circle of embarrassment was.  It was VERY noticeable.  I was devastated!  How could my perfect Friday night turn into this nightmare? 

     I threw away the bra, went to bed and drove to the cleaners in the morning.

     The sweet girl at the counter waited politely for my answer.  I had to tell her the truth.

            “I have no idea what it is.  Apparently my bra popped at some point last night so whatever stuff Victoria Secret fills their bras with is what caused that big circle stain on my dress.”  I said

            “Ok then.  Is Thursday after 4pm Okay?”  She asked

“Yes it is.”  I said and walked out of the cleaner’s with my head hung low.

     I’ve taken a break from that restaurant but not from going out to dinner alone.  It’s actually a lot of fun! Oh, if you’re wondering about that guy I met; I never saw him again. 

Can’t Figure This Guy Out

            “Jennifer.  You and Dave have to help me out here.”  I muttered into my phone.

            “What did you break?  Do we need to bring over our tool box again?”  Jennifer asked.

            “I didn’t break anything this time.  I need you to help me figure out what’s wrong with this guy I’m dating.”  I explained.

            “Oh FUN! What do you think is wrong with him?”  She asked

            “I’m not sure.  Something is off and I can’t put my finger on it.  He is in his late thirties, divorced, no kids, he’s somewhat successful and seems really nice.” I said painting a vague picture.

            “He sounds like a decent catch.”  She said.

            “You’re right, he does sound like a decent catch and I should be thrilled to be dating him. Please meet him and tell me why he annoys me.” I said then paused to collect my thoughts.

    

     I didn’t want to say too much because I didn’t want her to form an opinion before meeting him.  It was important that they remained totally unbiased.

           

            “You have to give me something.  What annoys you the most?”  Jennifer asked.

     I thought about it for a few seconds.

“Ok well, he’s from the south and once in a while he busts out with a southern accent that irritates the crap out of me and I’m not sure why.  A southern drawl could be hot but he doesn’t pull it off.   I think it’s because he starts out talking like you and me but then, out of nowhere, I hear this southern twang.  It’s like he’s possessed or something.  I just stare at him in utter confusion trying to figure out what the hell happened to his voice and then I try to understand what he’s saying.”  I explained.

“How could that be annoying?  I bet it’s cute!  Oh, I can’t wait to meet this one!”  Jennifer said.

     The plan was to meet at a bar on a Sunday afternoon.  Jennifer and Dave got there before I did and noticed a guy sitting alone.   After she and I exchanged a few texts, she approached the guy and officially met The Southern Guy.

            “I’m sorry I’m late.”  I said as rushed over to their table.

            “You’re not late.  We’re early.”  Southern Guy said then gave me a hug hello.

           

     I reintroduced everyone and ordered a vodka soda.  I was excited about this meeting mostly because I knew that Jennifer and Dave would be able to help me solve this mystery.  The fact that this perfectly normal guy irritated me as much as he did was confusing.

    Everyone ordered food except for me, I was too nervous to eat so I just ordered another drink.  I tried to come up with something interesting to talk about but it wasn’t easy.  Jennifer asked me how dinner with my clients went the other night and I ran with it. 

“They never showed up!”  I said and continued to describe that night.

    If you know me personally then you know that I could be a little animated when I talk.  I flung my arms into the air dramatically and then covered my face in embarrassment.

“Everyone stared at me and the wait staff felt bad for me.  I wanted to crawl under the table!  I felt like such a loser!  I kept saying “I can’t believe my clients didn’t show up” loudly so these strangers didn’t think I got stood up for a date.”  I said.

 Jennifer and Dave laughed along with me but The Southern Guy just sat there.  Did he not find me entertaining? That’s impossible! I’m funny! Well at least I thought I was.  I ignored his lack of interest and continued with my story.  My friends laughed as The Southern Guy sat quietly.   

            “Wasn’t that the night I asked to meet up with you after your dinner?”  Southern Guy asked.

            “Yes but we decided that we weren’t going to meet because my work dinners get done pretty late.”  I explained.

            “We did but it sounds like your dinner got canceled.  You should have called me.  I would have met up with you.”  He said.

            “I’m sorry.  I had a long week and I just wanted to take a long shower and go to bed, which is what I did.”  I said

            “If you really liked me then you would have called.  That’s all I’m saying.”   He said with a southern inflection in his voice.

     I wasn’t sure what he was getting at but I was sure that I didn’t want to have this conversation in front of my friends.  I changed the subject and the Southern Guy excused himself to go to the bathroom. 

“Can you believe he said that?”  I asked Jennifer.

“He has a point but why would he say that in front of us?  And where did that accent come from?”  Jennifer asked

“Did you hear it?  I told you!  He does that all the time.  Is it annoying or am I being mental?”  I asked

“You might be mental; it’s not that bad.  You’re right about something being off though.  I just don’t know what it is.”  Jennifer said.

“I think my personality is too much for him.  Maybe I should tone it down.”

Dave gazed at us with a strange look on his face.

            “Did you guys see that?”  Dave asked

            “See what?”  I asked

            “He took his napkin into the bathroom with him.”  Dave said

            “HE DID?”  Jennifer and I asked simultaneously.

            “YES! He’s coming back.  And he has the napkin with him.”  Dave whispered

     The Southern Guy sat back in his chair, wiped his lips with the cloth napkin he brought into the bathroom then placed it on his lap. 

            “So, you two met on-line?”  Dave asked

            “We did.  I found that on-line dating works best for me.  I’m ready to meet the perfect girl and start a big family.”  Southern Guy said.

            “How big?”  I asked

            “I’ve always wanted a big family but I’ll be happy with just four kids.”  He said

            “Four kids?”  I asked softly.

     Jennifer started to giggle.

            “Yes, four kids.  Don’t you want kids?”  He asked

            “Not really.  The only way I would agree to have kids, meaning just one, it would be under the condition that my husband takes full responsibility of raising him or her.”  I said.

            “I don’t believe you.”  The Southern Guy said

“I don’t want to have kids either.”   Jennifer said coming to my defense.

“How is that possible?”  He asked us.

     We spent the next thirty minutes explaining to this Southern man that not all women want to have kids.   I reminded him that I was forty years old and I didn’t think my body could handle four pregnancies.  He still didn’t believe me.    He excused himself again and walked towards the bathroom with his napkin in hand.

“You saw that, right?”  Dave asked

“YES!”  I said

“What does he do with it while he’s in there?”  Jennifer asked.

“No idea! Why doesn’t he leave it at the table?”  Dave asked

“Maybe he thinks we would do something to it.”  Jennifer said

“What could we possibly do to it?  I’m more interested in what he does with it when he pees.”  Dave said

“Maybe he throws it over his shoulder.”  Jennifer suggested

 “I don’t think he’s peeing.  I think he’s texting someone.  He hates me.”  I said

“I don’t think he hates you.”  Jennifer said.

“Do you think he really wants to have four kids?”  I asked

“Yes but not with you.”  Jennifer said which cracked me up.

“I don’t blame him! Picture me with FOUR kids!”  I said.

“I can’t picture you, or me for that matter, with ONE kid.  Yeah, you need to end this so he can find a better match.  You’ve only been on a couple of dates so it should be easy.”  Jennifer said

“We have to discuss why he keeps taking his napkin into the bathroom with him.”  Dave said.

“Why are you fixated on his napkin?”  I asked

“Why aren’t you?”  Dave asked

“Good question.  Should that be a deal breaker?”  I asked

“YES!”  Jennifer and Dave said together.

“He’s coming back.”  Dave said.

   We watched him walk out of the bathroom with his napkin dangling from his fingers.  He sat in his chair, wiped his lips with his bathroom-contaminated napkin and delicately placed it back onto his lap.  We couldn’t look at each other or say a word.  We knew we would have lost our composure if we did.

            “Oh, he has the perfect recipe for sweet potato pie.  Tell them about it.” I said

            “Alright.  I start with the best ingredients of course and grease up my special sweet potato casserole dish.  The secret is my special casserole dish.  It won’t come out right if I didn’t have that casserole dish.” Southern Guy said.

     He described the process of making the “World’s Best Sweet Potato Pie” and used Southern slang so we had no idea what he was saying.  We asked him to repeat himself a few times and he let out a sigh before pronouncing his words like a New Englander.   He finally gave up on us and excused himself.  He and his napkin walked into the bathroom for the last time. 

            “Did you see that?  He did it again!”  Dave said

            “He’s totally texting someone in there!”  I said

            “I think you’re right.  He’s been in there a million times and with his napkin.  I’m sorry, you’re right.  There is something off about him but I don’t think we should waste anymore time trying to figure it out.”  Jennifer said.

            “He’s coming back.”  Dave whispered.

            “That was quick.”  I said

“I’m really beat.  I’m going to head home.”  The Southern Guy said.

     I wanted to call him a liar and ask who he was texting in the bathroom.  Dave wanted to ask him why in the world did he keep taking his napkin into the bathroom.  Jennifer wanted to know what was so damn special about his sweet potato casserole dish.  Our questions were never answered.  He called me a few days later to break up with me.  I was relieved.