True Story -- Dating Tangent #2,763
A little vignette about dating.
You all know that I'm dipping my toe into the dating waters again, and some of those experiences will reappear as fiction to protect those involved. Before I decided to start dating again, I kept thinking about A) How could I date with a broken foot? Shouldn't I just wait? Isn't it a little pathetic to meet someone while I was on crutches and cast-ed? And then that thought was immediately supported by B) A little personal ad I read 10 years ago while living in New York. And it scarred me forever.
I picked up, oh, I forget the name of it, you know, that magazine that is all about NY...and has fabulously descriptive personal ads with pictures advertising "escorts"...just in case you're so lonely you need to pay someone to hang out with you. I was idly flipping through the magazine, stopped on the Men Searching Women, looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching, and then began to read voraciously. Can one read voraciously? Yes. One can. Especially if she's in her mid-twenties, in Manhattan,and the holidays are looming.
I came across a personal ad that totally seemed like it was meant for me. Like, here He is. The man I'm going to love and marry and make babies with.
Here’s the ad from memory:
I am an intelligent man looking for an intelligent woman to share my life with. I’m a professor of English and enjoy fine wine and restaurants. I’m attractive, professional, and well-adjusted. I’m looking for the One.
I stopped reading. I looked up to the heavens and thought, wow. Wow. He is something. But there was still one line left to read. So I read:
Also, I wear a diaper because of some issues. I’m hoping the woman I’ll fall in love with will also wear a diaper.
What? WHAT? Seriously? No! No! (Read the next ‘no’ like Charleton Heston when he discovers the truth about Planet of the Apes) NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Ahem.
Flash forward a decade later. Past 9/11 in New York, past getting married to a nice enough guy, past 2 kids, past moving out, past divorce, slow down to broken foot.
Then I thought, okay, so am I the new Diaper Guy? Do I show up on a date as a cripple? Isn’t that a little sad?
Then I thought, fuck it. Poor Diaper Guy, he’s in a diaper for life (and maybe he’s found a Diaper Wife) but this walking cast? This bastard comes off in three more weeks. And then I’m wearing a miniskirt.
Rah.
Two Conversations with my Mother
I present two conversations with my mother: one real, one imagined.
If you don't know my mom...well...she's a wonderful being. She's also extremely quirky. This is not a surprise if you look at me. I am, essentially, my mother's daughter.
I present here two telephone conversations with my mother. The first, is the conversation I wished we'd had. The second is the one we actually did have. Remember, I'm staying in the Days Inn because I'm narrating this week, and I have a broken foot with a ginormous green cast. These two details are important.
CONVERSATION #1
MOM: I just had to call you! I wanted to tell you something really exciting!
ME: Great. I could use some good news.
MOM: You got another bouquet of flowers!
ME: I did?
MOM: Yes! And this one is from MATT DAMON!
ME: Again?
MOM: He really wants to get back together. He says he’d divorce his wife for you. In fact, there are flowers and candy here from all your handsome, famous admirers. Isn’t that wonderful?
ME: I’m bored by it now actually. Being so desired is awfully tiring.
MOM: I know, honey. Boy, do I know.
CONVERSATION #2 (The Real One)
MOM: I just had to call you! I’ve got some good news!
ME: Great. I could use some good news.
MOM: Airway Oxygen just dropped off a knee scooter for you!
(PAUSE)