Moved the dawg and the Bone sentences up to the new post
Oh I was never a rules person. If I wanted to I did, if I didn’t I didn’t. So was it on the third date or if the third date went well? Honestly can’t remember.
Seventeen years ago I had two dates with a friend of some friends. The third date rule was big then. He wanted to do it on the first date. I told him that maybe someday it might happen. On our second date we went to see a movie and then we were going to to do dinner.
We had to wait on line, outside in the cold, before the movie. He had a cold, and his eyes were red, but worse snot was running down his nose and he didn’t have tissues. I did, but it was too late. No way would I go out to dinner with him or see him again.
In the interim, he married, moved to LA, and was divorced. Somebody gave him my cell number, a closely guarded secret only given to a select few, and told him that I would be in California. I somewhat reluctantly agreed to go out to dinner with him last night. Since I knew we weren’t going to go to The Ivy, I wore black jeans, a black tee, red and black sandals and a denim jacket.
He inspected me as if I were a race horse, and told me that I had gained weight but looked good. All he wanted to talk about was how well he was doing, and how I have a great blog but am getting on in years and should have had my book published by now.
There was much I could have said about his appearance, his demeanor, lack of sense of humor or any saving graces. I didn’t.
After dinner he asked if I wanted to go back to my motel or to his new bachelor pad. Yes he said that, not even crib which still would have made me cringe, but…. I had visions of strobe lights, dimmers, wall to wall carpeting going over the built in furniture. I’m sure it doesn’t look like that. When I said no, he looked at me and said:
“But it’s our third date.”
And that’s just one of the reasons I’m a born-again-virgin.