The restaurant was empty except for two patrons. I sat across from the only other patron wondering what I would call him at the end of the date…He prattled on and on about how he didn’t like any vegetables but asparagus, how he had taken an IQ test online with several distractions and the score came out really high. If he had taken it under better conditions he surely would have done better, but still, he was a genius.
I already knew it wasn’t going to work before I got there. I feel like a terrible person for going anyway. He had called me in the morning and I felt no need to reply since it seemed like a leisurely, “Call me and leave a message and I‘ll get back to you.” Then he called again…I had my ringer off because I was busy. No need to listen to the message I thought. As I explored the depths of my purse for my phone, the light started blinking. I flipped it open and it was him yet again. “Oh, so you do answer your phone! Where are you?” he demanded to know.
“I’m on my way.”
“Yeah, but where are you?”
“I’m near, I’m on my way, OK?” I wasn’t even late.
I had called my friend Lauren and asked her to call me at 6:30. My phone interrupted our conversation three times--the temp agency offered me a job for two months. Thanks God. Next was a woman from a dating service who after a few niceties said, “You canceled your appointment and I was just a little surprised after all we had discussed.”
“Oh…I know. Can we talk later? I’m actually on a date right now.”
“Oh! OK dear.”
Perhaps I should have rescheduled right then and there. Part of my conversation with the dating service had been that accountants and surgeons would not be right for me. Here I was sitting across from an accountant. An obsessive complusive accountant.
My phone rang again and Lauren’s soothing voice asked our secret code question, “Hey, are you sitting down?”
“No, but it’s OK.”
“I’m so sorry," I said to him. "I guess this will go down in history as the “Cell Phone Date.”
I really was OK at the time. That was before I realized that he was going to thank the waiter in French every time he came by to fill our glasses and spoke to me in Yiddish. My cousins are Jewish. They don’t speak Yiddish.
We women go on these dates hoping to meet the One, but know deep down we will be compensated for our time with dinner and, “So do you wear pajamas?”
“Excuse me?” I said after swallowing my delicious salmon.
“Do you wear pajamas?”
“Why would you ask me something like that?”
“Oh, it was just stream of consciousness--nothing dirty or anything.”
His cell phone rang.
Out of boredom, I started playing with my hair while he talked. After he checked out my chest, he commented that Oprah had said playing with your hair is a sign of flirting, said he wanted to massage me and take me out again just so he could kiss me…well, I just didn’t think so.
Dessert was flan and if it hadn’t been, I would have been out of there before dessert. There was really so much more he said, but why belabor the point? I’m sure you get the idea. Next time I think I will bug myself so at least I won’t feel alone. I have great material for a comedy show, cabaret act or a screenplay.
To make him feel the heat of my discomfort, I ‘innocently’ asked, “So…how far do you think your divorce is from being final? Are you legally separated?” He had no clue what a legal separation was. I don’t know New Jersey law, but every state has to have some kind of legal separarion, right?
I found him explaining to me that he had never felt truly married after the ceremony because nothing had changed for him. He had told her that he was Christian now and that he didn’t want to marry her, but she guilted him into it. Of course, his church and pastor were 100% behind him in granting this divorce because she was keeping him from practicing his faith and would argue with him about going to church.
I just couldn’t believe that was their only problem. It’s interesting. The only woman that would have wanted to marry this man and he drove her away.