dating and other hazardous activities
By Anita Wright, Guest Contributor
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So, regarding stories of extreme humiliation. I can deliver. This one is from The Wasn't Chronicles of my life, as in, it wasn't him and it wasn't him and it most assuredly wasn't him. I still don't have a him except Him (God) and for now that is quite alright with me.
But I digress.
After the break-up of my first disastrous marriage, I needed an evening out. Now my divorce wasn't final and in my faith, that means no dating. I bent the rule a little in the name of a good cause and decided to attend an American Cancer Society fundraiser singles dance. I didn't date. I just attended. But driving there, I made up my mind to dance with anyone that asked me. I figured it should be a fairly innocuous event.
I arrived and had to walk through a wall of smoke to get into the "smokeless" dance, as it was advertised. That should have been my first red flag! I was a little nervous going in, and carefully surveyed the room, finding a table uninhabited, I planted myself there. It was nice getting all dolled up, a break from the jeans and flannel shirts I had to wear for carpentry school.
It didn't take long for someone to ask and I held to my rule and obliged him. His name was Chen and he almost came up to mine. Chen liked to get intimate with strangers and when the music blessedly ended, I had to peel him off like a girdle and step out of his arms. It was not pretty. But I was gracious and thanked him for the opportunity to get my groove on.
Next up was Michael. Michael was nice and tall and muscular . . . and young. But, rules must be obeyed. As we were dancing, he asked me how old I was.
"Really, Michael? Who raised you? Apparently you were never taught to never ask a woman her age. But because I don't care about such things, I'm 38. How old are you?"
"28."
"Taxi!"
"No, come on, dance with me. It's fine. I don't care."
So we danced and I learned that he was a carpenter himself. He did remodeling. We talked about framing and drywall and 22-oz. waffle-head hammers. It was enthralling. Then (duh, duh, duh, duh) he asked me out.
I was flabbergasted. Utterly taken aback. I had not dated in 17 years. I told him I couldn't really date yet, but that he could maybe come to dinner and meet my amazing children. I know now how many single mom dating rules (SMDRs) I broke that night.
After the dance, he walked me to my car and told me he'd see me the next evening at 5:00 and that he had something really important to tell me then.
"Really? Why don't you just tell me now?"
"No. I want to wait. Tomorrow night I'll tell you."
More red flags.
The next day I prepped the kids on the fact that a man was coming to dinner and we cleaned and prepared a nice meal.
5:00. No Michael.
5:30. No Michael.
6:00. No Michael.
7:00. Michael calls. He lost track of time. He'll be there shortly. Click.
8:00. Michael arrives. Dinner is over. The kids are already involved in a movie and have no interest in meeting someone so rude.
"So, Michael. What is it you wanted to tell me?"
"They're here."
"They're here? Who's here?"
"They're here. All around us and they look just like us so we don't know who's us and who's them."
I stifled a laugh. Gracious hospitality had departed hours before and slammed the door behind her.
"And by them, I'm assuming you mean aliens?"
"Yes. I know because I've talked to NASA and other agencies and they confirmed."
"So, the guys at NASA found time to talk to a little carpenter from Rochester, NY? That's impressive."
"You're mocking me."
"Yes. I am. There's the door. Lose my number."
As he walked toward the door, he noticed a family photo with my oldest beauty who had blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes, unlike the rest of us.
"I can't help but notice that one of your children doesn't look like the rest."
I quickly caught on and surmised that he was implying I had been abducted, impregnated by an alien, and given birth to a half-breed.
He left. I locked the door. The kids and I had a good hearty laugh. I excused myself for the night and went out in the backyard to study and refresh myself on the laws of dating as set forth in the Single Mom Dating Rule Book.
But I digress.
After the break-up of my first disastrous marriage, I needed an evening out. Now my divorce wasn't final and in my faith, that means no dating. I bent the rule a little in the name of a good cause and decided to attend an American Cancer Society fundraiser singles dance. I didn't date. I just attended. But driving there, I made up my mind to dance with anyone that asked me. I figured it should be a fairly innocuous event.
I arrived and had to walk through a wall of smoke to get into the "smokeless" dance, as it was advertised. That should have been my first red flag! I was a little nervous going in, and carefully surveyed the room, finding a table uninhabited, I planted myself there. It was nice getting all dolled up, a break from the jeans and flannel shirts I had to wear for carpentry school.
It didn't take long for someone to ask and I held to my rule and obliged him. His name was Chen and he almost came up to mine. Chen liked to get intimate with strangers and when the music blessedly ended, I had to peel him off like a girdle and step out of his arms. It was not pretty. But I was gracious and thanked him for the opportunity to get my groove on.
Next up was Michael. Michael was nice and tall and muscular . . . and young. But, rules must be obeyed. As we were dancing, he asked me how old I was.
"Really, Michael? Who raised you? Apparently you were never taught to never ask a woman her age. But because I don't care about such things, I'm 38. How old are you?"
"28."
"Taxi!"
"No, come on, dance with me. It's fine. I don't care."
So we danced and I learned that he was a carpenter himself. He did remodeling. We talked about framing and drywall and 22-oz. waffle-head hammers. It was enthralling. Then (duh, duh, duh, duh) he asked me out.
I was flabbergasted. Utterly taken aback. I had not dated in 17 years. I told him I couldn't really date yet, but that he could maybe come to dinner and meet my amazing children. I know now how many single mom dating rules (SMDRs) I broke that night.
After the dance, he walked me to my car and told me he'd see me the next evening at 5:00 and that he had something really important to tell me then.
"Really? Why don't you just tell me now?"
"No. I want to wait. Tomorrow night I'll tell you."
More red flags.
The next day I prepped the kids on the fact that a man was coming to dinner and we cleaned and prepared a nice meal.
5:00. No Michael.
5:30. No Michael.
6:00. No Michael.
7:00. Michael calls. He lost track of time. He'll be there shortly. Click.
8:00. Michael arrives. Dinner is over. The kids are already involved in a movie and have no interest in meeting someone so rude.
"So, Michael. What is it you wanted to tell me?"
"They're here."
"They're here? Who's here?"
"They're here. All around us and they look just like us so we don't know who's us and who's them."
I stifled a laugh. Gracious hospitality had departed hours before and slammed the door behind her.
"And by them, I'm assuming you mean aliens?"
"Yes. I know because I've talked to NASA and other agencies and they confirmed."
"So, the guys at NASA found time to talk to a little carpenter from Rochester, NY? That's impressive."
"You're mocking me."
"Yes. I am. There's the door. Lose my number."
As he walked toward the door, he noticed a family photo with my oldest beauty who had blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes, unlike the rest of us.
"I can't help but notice that one of your children doesn't look like the rest."
I quickly caught on and surmised that he was implying I had been abducted, impregnated by an alien, and given birth to a half-breed.
He left. I locked the door. The kids and I had a good hearty laugh. I excused myself for the night and went out in the backyard to study and refresh myself on the laws of dating as set forth in the Single Mom Dating Rule Book.
Copyright © 2014 by Rent's Due Publications
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, click a button on any page to send email with details of the request.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, click a button on any page to send email with details of the request.
