The Bag

This one was short-lived. I’m not sure the situation even warrants being included in my Romantical Escapades because it was over before it began. I’m warming up to share another deeply personal and emotional escapade, but in the meantime I hope you enjoy some of the rather colorful stops along the way.

I was going out to eat with two young ladies that I’m rather close to, who are the daughters of two men I consider friends. Because I’ve known the girls since they were about thirteen and they like to joke, they sometimes refer to me as their stepmom.

As we came out of the restaurant, there was a man throwing out some trash from his vehicle. He noticed us and started to speak. I kept walking. The girls did not. He asked if I was their mom. They looked at each other, looked at me turning red a few feet away (still moving away), giggled, and said, “Something like that.”

They gave the man my number. And giggled as they walked me to my car. They told me, “We secured The Bag for you.” That reference was slang (in case you’re a “boomer” like me and not with the teenage talk) for money (a large sum, person with money, or situation leading to money). His brand new fancy, top of the line Range Rover impressed them apparently.

The Bag called me. Right away. I didn’t even turn my car on yet. We had a short conversation, then another, and another across a few days. The conversations were a bit awkward and short, but I was pretty busy between family visits and work.

The main thing that I got out of our interactions was that he found me attractive, liked my smile, my eyes, and we must be “soul mates” because we liked the same professional sports teams. Apparently I have a LOT of soul mates if that is the only criteria. That annoyed me, but I decided to give the guy a chance anyway.

Did I mention this was a week before my 40th birthday? Oh, and I was caught up thinking about a gentleman I was interested in, who was slowly (and I mean painfully slowly) showing me that he really wasn’t interested in me like that.

As I was shopping for my birthday party, one of the young ladies and one of my closest friends highly encouraged me to invite The Bag to my party since they were sure the other guy wasn’t going to show up.

I invited him. He accepted. And actually showed up. With my closest friends, my mom, my kids…and he didn’t know a soul. We had never even been on a date. I was impressed, though still cautious.

He left when most of the others left, saying he had to be up early for work. Then called me thirty minutes later (around midnight) to see if he should double back. That was another little flag for me, but I politely declined and gave him the benefit of the doubt.

About a week later we finally met up for drinks at the bar of his choosing. I arrived first and bought my first drink. They gave me arcade tokens with my drink.

When he arrived, he found a cozy little zombie killing game for us to sit in to “talk.” He never got a drink, and didn’t offer to refill mine. He talked about a new business venture he had (selling knockoffs) and how beautiful I was in between his texts and phone calls. And trying to touch or kiss me, which I kept dodging.

I kept my phone in my pocket, even when he was on his, to give him my undivided attention. Have I told y’all that I really don’t know how to date? But I thought that might be proper etiquette. Who knows?

I decided we should use my tokens to play the game. I didn’t see where the trigger was, as it was tucked up in a weird corner of the plastic gun. I didn’t realize I just kept reloading my gun, not shooting, until after I was dead and saw him pulling the trigger.

He kept telling me not to worry, he had me; he would protect me. I said obviously not since I died. Then I said, “Oh, that’s where the trigger is.”

After he died he looked at me and said, “You’re kinda slow, huh?”

I stared at him in disbelief. Not noticing something does not make me slow, especially when I noticed that this fifty year old man had nothing to talk about other than my appearance, sports teams we had in common, and his new business venture with no work history to speak of. Perhaps I was too busy paying attention to him trying to kiss and touch me without seeming to really pay attention to anything about me, as a person.

I paid for more tokens to redeem myself. As he continued to tell me he “had me,” I killed more zombies than him. I didn’t gloat, at least not outwardly. But I was pretty proud of myself. Slow, my ass.

He got a phone call that sounded pretty serious and hostile and said he had to go. A couple of hours later, around midnight, he asked if he could come see me.

I was so utterly turned off that I told him it just wasn’t going to work a few days later after his continued efforts. The girls still think this is funny. I told them that’s why I don’t date.

Hopefully they learned a lesson at my expense. It doesn’t matter what a man drives, what his paycheck is, what name brand is sewn into his clothes, or any outward thing. An actual connection, interest in who you are as a person, and consistency are definitely more pressing factors. But then again I’m single, so what the hell do I know?

Do you have an awkward dating story or setup gone wrong? Please share with me!