Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Dating chronicles

Sometimes I am the coolest person on the planet and then there are moment when I'm so socially akward you would think that I had just turned 13.  In these moment of verbal clumsiness the only ways to redeem myself is with one of my many dating stories. People have told me that I should write a book about my dating chronicles, because some of the things that have happened to me have been just so weird they seem like fiction.  Oh, how I wish they were.

A lot of them are a little inappropriate for this audience, but I'm sure I can find a few that can appeal to all audiences, so I thought every now and again I'll share. 

I had recently been avoiding dating like the plague. Not just because no one interested me-- although they didn't-- but because the horrors of the last 3 men (frogs) still left a foul taste in my mouth. More on them later. So the only thing that could make me date again was shear necessity. 

My last date, if you can even call it that, happened because I had to take my car in for an oil change. And in a rare stroke of anti-luck, everyone I knew who could drive, including my father, was out of town. So I decided to go out with a guy who I had met at the food max in hopes of hitching a ride to my car. To avoid being a total user I indicated that we could go to the movies and I would meet him there. 

 I texted to say that I was running late, literally, since I was on foot . He said no problem and that he was already there. I arrived and proceeded to look for him. I couldn't find him anywhere. I stood out front. I walked the parking lot. Finally, I took out my dying phone and called him. No answer. I texted and finally he responded with " where are you?"

A little annoyed I texted that I was in front of Deer valley. I assumed he had gone to the wrong movie theater. Deer Valley is the name of  the movie theater by my house. What I should have remembered was it was also the name of the high school.

Ten minutes later, I get a call. "Where are you?" he asks.  

More than a bit irritated, I remind him "I am still at the movie theater."

He apologizes saying "I thought you meant the high school."

Does that make any sense? Why would I, a 30 year old woman, be at the high shool on a Sunday?

Ten minutes later he shows up with his shirt un-buttoned, showing his protruding beer belly and no undershirt. 

I am leery of getting in the car. 

I ponder my options: getting in or walking the 7 miles to Firestone to get my car. 

Although the second option was wiser, I thought of Layla, my Infiniti, waiting patiently for me at the Firestone.

With a sigh I get in. 

The man, who we will call Gabe, began to talk excitedly. He seemed-- and smelled differently-- it took me a second to place the smell. 

"Have you been drinking?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah, but not too much. Just a beer and a little weed. I take care of my body and I know my limits."

Before I could comment he leaned out the window and yelled at a man leaving Chase bank, "Hey man, you gonna split that with me?"

The man laughed and shook his head.

"Do you know him?" I asked.

"No, I just like messing with people."

Uh huh.

"Where's your car?" He asked me.

"Over at the Firestone on Somersville."

"That far," he asked.

"Yeah?" I was truly confused because Antioch was a small city. If you blink you will miss it. And Firestone was just one exit over. It was close enough that walking had been an option.

I glanced over at him. He was looking at his gas tank. The gas tank light was on. We were lucky the car was even moving. 

I realized something more was wrong then just the inconvenience of stopping for gas. 

"Do you need money?" I supplied.

"I don't need for anything, but the car does."

I was confused did that mean he needed money or he didn't?

We entered a gas station and he started yelling out the window to some guy.

Another stranger he was messing with? 

"How's it going?" Gabe yelled

"Good, I got a job. But I got to take a drug test."

" What are you on?" 

"Weed and a little methoxy."

Gabe went on to chastise the man for using meth and how weed was fine, but not meth.

I found the hypocrisy to be irritating. 

We pulled up to the pump and Gabe fiddled around for a while. I realized he definitely needed gas money. I pulled out a twenty. 

"I don't need that much. I'll bring you back a ten. I'm not that type of guy. You'll see who you're dealing with."  He said taking the twenty from me.

I really wasn't sure the type of man he was trying to distinguish himself from, but I don't think he was successful. 

When he came out of the gas station. He ran into yet another friend. this man followed him back to the car, discussing the virtues of Gabe's intellect. Apparently, no one had ever broken things down to him in the way Gabe had. He droned on about how he would always go with them on Sundays. He spoke to Gabe like he was  a God, I looked over Gabe's shoulder to see if the man was possibly talking about someone behind Gabe. 

He wasn't.

Gabe got back into the car. "He's homeless," he explained to me. "Every time I see him, I pick him up and will take him to In Shape for a shower or something. Today I took him to the marina. On Sundays preachers preach outside so we can hear the word, smoke a little weed and just get uplifted.

Hmmm. I wasn't sure how to take that. 

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