True Story©... A Million First Dates

     There are always times that people can be tested.  Apparently being a people watcher and all-around curmudgeon all of these years has made me pretty good at testing people for their commitment to what is important to me.
Sure, there was the one time I messed that up, but we all slip here and there and it is best that we simply learn from it and get on with our lives.

Anyway…

     You know what is worse than a first date in general?  A BAD first date?  For every first date that ends in surprise sex that you didn’t have to ASK her for will be the one who has printed a list of terroristic demands that she has come up with with the assistance of her miserable friends who want to make sure she stays miserable with them.
For every lunch date that turns into 3 hours chilling in the park, there is the one who complains about the restaurant and every other little thing she can come up to in her short-sighted-ass conversation. These are the ones you can’t WAIT to end.

But what if a date STARTS well, but winds up going FAR left?

     A couple of years ago, I met this sundress young lady in Food Lion with my daughter.  She smelled good, looked great and spoke first after observing me and Ava’s back-and-forth.  She pressed for information on my marital status and we exchanged numbers.
A couple weeks of texts throughout the days and a few phone calls (I am not a phone conversation type – meet me in person and let’s talk that way) and things were looking up.  This was one of SEVERAL I had in what I look back on as far too short a period of time back then but that is another story for another time.  Not wanting me to know where she lived yet without deciding whether or not I was a psychopath (understandable), she agreed to meet me at the restaurant.

     When I tell you her conversation was great, I am making an understatement.  She was responsive, attentive, kept up with my little weird quirks without being scared off and seemed to understand, or at least accept, what I was about.  The date was going well.

Was going well…
WAS.

Her: “So, like…  I know you’re divorced and all, but where do you see it going if you hit it off with someone?”

Me: “mmm…  I would really have to wait and cross that bridge when I get to it.”

Her: “What do you mean, like…  why?”

Me: “Well right now, it is still kind of a ‘thing’ I need to get myself through.”

Her: “I see.  Is there something like, in particular?”

Me: “Well yeah, it’s--…  Damn.”

Her: “It’s okay.”

Me: “No, lemme see how to word it.”

Her: “Take your time sweety.”

Me: “See, you’ve seen me in my element with my princess.”

Her: “Uh huh.”

Me: “And you’ve listened to all my silly little utterances.”

Her: “Yes”

Me: “And while in this moment you seem to be okay with them, who is to say that your opinion of what makes me – or more importantly what SHOULD make me – ‘me’ might not change?”

Her: “You mean like, like…  Try to change you?”

Me: “Yeah, but that isn’t all.”

Her: “Well we’re here over this good food and good conversation.  Feel free to explain.”

Me: “What about things I tend to find important now that just aren’t likely to change anytime soon, probably ever?”

Her: “Such as?”

Me: “Such as my model cars.”

Her: “Haha, how many do you have?”

Me: “About forty or so 1:18 models, about twenty 1:24 and a few HUNDRED Hot Wheels cars I have collected.”

Her: “Okay, so…?”

Me: “Let’s say this date is a success, we go on to have a good long relationship that ends in something like forever…”

Her: “Okay…”

Me: “Well inevitably, one of us is going to die first…”

Her: “Not that I would want to think of that, but true enough.”

Me: “Let’s say that years of stressful living and alcohol sees to it that it is me that goes first…  Do you sell my models or do you preserve them as a connection to something I loved and to be passed on to the kid/kids?”

Her (without hesitation): “I’d probably sell.”

That lack of hesitation, though?

Me: “Waitress…  Can I get that check please?”

I ain’t got time to be entertaining that kind of negativity in my life, even if it does happen to look fucking MAGICAL in a flowy white sundress.