The night I met my wife back in October of 2001, I had a date. With another girl. What’s even funnier is that I met two other girls that evening, separately, and exchanged phone numbers with all of them. My biggest mistake was calling the girl who would become my wife LAST. Should have called her first and saved myself some time and trouble but if I would have done that, then this post probably wouldn’t exist!
Kapoo had a post up the other day about bad dates and it’s been simmering in my head ever since reading his post and the appended comments. Let me tell you about MY last few dating experiences.
We’ve got the girl who runs off with the roommate! (about a month previously) We’ve got knife-wielding maniacs on Prozac! We’ve got married women whose personality mirrors that of Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction! Then we’ve got my wife, a sweet girl with a few quirks (what woman DOESN’T have them?) but definitely worth the wait.
This girl came to the calendar stand where I worked and she seemed nice enough. We struck up a conversation on different calendars and how beautiful the ones of Greece were (Hi Al!!! Ya lucky bas-tudge!!!) and she was impressed that I’d actually been to Greece. Throughout the conversation, I found out that she was 19 years old. And single. Woo hoo! In order to not seem too threatening, I gave her my number and left it at that. I didn’t really lose any sleep over it, just figured that after a few days went by that it was the end of it. No big deal, there’s plenty of fish in the sea right? No seriously now, I wasn’t bothered at all by the whole thing.
What bothered me is what comes next.
I’m heading to work, about 3 weeks later, and I see my roommate (a young guy who was renting another room from this elderly gentleman that I rented a room from as well) pull into the driveway. He gets out of the car and so does his passenger. His passenger is none other than the girl I had this conversation with. They both look at me awkwardly and he says “Hey I thought you’d be at work by now”.
My jaw is on the concrete and I mutter “Nope, on my way right now.”
Not that I asked for an explanation but this girl volunteered one anyway. She says “I called you a few times but you were always at work and your roommate Billy here always took the messages. He was so nice and I ended up talking to him. Sorry, but you just work too much.”
Uh, ok. Sorry about the gotta-pay-the-bills-and-eat complex I suffer from.
Poetic justice or irony, whatever you want to call it rules though. Turns out that she had lied to me. She wasn’t 19. She was 16 and a junior in high school. YOWZA! Glad I didn’t even mess with that. Hopefully by now (4 years later), she’s got herself a job and realizes how necessary they really are! Needless to say, I didn’t speak to my roommate EVER AGAIN after that. I only lived there for another 2 months anyway.
Ok, that was just the “pre-show” entertainment. On to the girls I dated in the worst dating week EVER. (Sounds like one of those VH1 shows!)
I don’t remember this girl’s name but she’s from Georgia. I was working at the mall, she was walking past with her family and looked my way. She was cute. She was reaaaaallllll cute. Great figure, great everything. She waved at me and smiled. I choked on my soda and waved back. She came over and said “hi”. I said “hello” back. I asked her if she’d like to go out and do something sometime. She said “sure, here’s my phone number” and that was Dave’s first number of the evening.
I called her a couple days later and we talked for a few minutes. Not really long enough to “talk” but mostly to coordinate date plans. I would come pick her up in Georgia (45 minute drive or so from where I was currently living) and we’d grab a movie and dinner. Well, I went to pick her up and she told me to come inside and meet her mother. Uh, ok I said. I went in and met her mother, who seemed very nice and friendly. We left shortly after to go to dinner at a Mexican restaurant. She tells me about a mile down the road, “my mom made me bring some protection”. Maybe I’m not a typical guy, I dunno. Trying to lighten up the mood and not sure if I was getting lucky or not, I said “Whoah! We haven’t even eaten yet! You move quick!” to which she responded by pulling a hunting knife out of her purse and saying “No, silly! Not THAT kind of protection! Since September 11th, my mother is scared of pretty much every man! She made me bring this knife along! I’m sure that it’s not a big deal though!”
I was a bit freaked out. The conversation seemed to be going ok up to that point and then again picked up a couple minutes later so the date carried on. We had dinner and then headed off to see “Zoolander” in the theatre. Half-jokingly I said “Hey let me know if I piss you off, wouldja? That’s a decent-sized hunting knife”. I laughed all throughout Zoolander but every so often would glance over to my date and see if she was fiddling with her purse (getting the knife!) or if she was enjoying the movie. She seemed to be enjoying the movie.
Movie finishes up and we’re headed back to her house. She begs me to stop at a pool hall down the street a few miles from her house, so we do. We played a round of pool, I met a lot of her guy friends, and we had a beer each of us. She proceeds to tell me that her mom wasn’t sure if I was old enough to drive or not. WTF? Guess I should take it as a compliment, I was 24 at the time!
We leave the poolhall and all her mullet-headed guy buddies and then head back to her house. We are almost there when she just mentions offhandedly, “I did pretty good tonight for not having any of my medication!”
I got a kiss goodnight but saw nothing in my head except that scene in Species where Natasha Henstridge shoots her tongue through the back of that one guy’s head. I did my best to not squeal my tires when pulling out of her driveway.
THE MARRIED WOMAN
Shortly after getting Knifey’s number, I met THIS girl. Very thin, like skeletal thin, but she seemed relatively nice. She gave me her number and I gave her mine (hindsight is 20/20!) I didn’t even get a chance to call her. She called me the next day.
Hmmmm. Well, we set up a date to meet at the local Books-A-Million for some coffee and chat. Things seemed to be going good, I had a great coffee and like I said she seemed nice enough. I could tell pretty quickly that she wasn’t anyone that I could see myself getting serious with but she still made for pleasant conversation. Well, not that I’m a nosy guy but I like to get all cards on the table for the most part. I busted out with the “so what’s the deal? You’re a 20something, attractive young lady. Are you finishing up a degree? Are you dating around? Are you blah, blah, blah?”
She responds with “Oh I’m married!”
My jaw drops. I’ve only had one experience (in high school) where I was “the other guy”. I wouldn’t want someone to do that to me so I’ve tried my damnedest to not do it to any other guys. We’re all brothers, basically, in my humble opinion. It’s us against them! He he he he. Anyway, my interest (what little I had to begin with) dropped IMMEDIATELY to zero. She went on to explain that although they lived together and were still married it was only because it would be too inconvenient to change all the mortgage paperwork and the banking information.
My jaw dropped again.
She tells me that they both date other people and it’s normal in their eyes.
Uhhhhhhh, yeeeeeaaaahhhh. This is the part where, although I’d had like 3 cappucinos and was wired like a crack addict, I faked a few yawns and was like “Sheesh! I’m so tired! Think I’m gonna git along! Will call you sometime?”
We parted ways. I didn’t call again. She kept calling me. She called me for the next week straight. Starting everyday and then finally dropping to once a week for about 3 weeks out. I was still working at the mall and she came by one time and said “Hey! Haven’t talked to ya in awhile! How are ya? I parked next to your Green Toyota pickup. At least I think it’s yours, the license plate was XXXXXXXXX (she recited it from memory!)”
I tried to play it easy and eventually she got the hint. Actually, come to think of it, I had to finally say that I had met someone (The “Wif”) and was off-the-market. Phew, glad I’m married now. There are times that I miss the excitement of dating but then I think of the three aforementioned bee-otches and then I think twice about it.