In the summer of 2006, I relocated to Orlando. One of the happy consequences of the move was no more fix-ups. No one other than the sister-in-law, that is.
Anyway, I had moved across country from Cincinnati to Orlando, and irony of ironies, my first date was with a woman who was from Cincinnati. That is not a tale for these pages, since it was not a bad time. It didn't take long, however, to determine that we were never going to be more than good friends. That much was obvious when the final phase of the evening was devoted to repairing a childrens table for the church toddler class, and neither one of us thought twice about it. I'll lay odds you've never knelt on the floor with a staple gun in hand doing arts and crafts on your dates.
I included Katherine here because 1] she's a good sport, and 2] she is the perfect seque. Cincinnati to Orlando, Girl from Cincinnati, Girl named Katherine, ---- In late March, 2008, I decided it was time to get my butt in the gym. The condos where I lived had a small gym, so I spent an hour every evening working out in the gym. One Saturday, I went in early, and that's when I met Catherine. TAH DAH!
Catherine was walking on the treadmill while I was doing the circuit on the weight machines. We said hi, and made some small talk. The workout always went a little faster when I could talk to someone. I was usually the only person in the room. She didn't seem to be that interested in talking much. She told me later that she thought I was hitting on her. I was just passing time.
The next week, I went in on Sunday afternoon. I was all alone when Catherine walked in. We said hi, and started to talk a little more. By the third weekend, she actually smiled when she saw me.
When I walked into the gym at my usual time that Monday, Catherine was already there. It was not a day when she normally worked out, but I didn't think much about it. For the next two weeks, she showed up in the gym every day at 5:30, when I would normally work out. Yes, she was going on purpose. Yes, I realized it, although not for a few weeks (I can be a little slow when it comes to these things). And yes, she was interested.
On the other hand, I wasn't as interested. Catherine was a brunette (plus), employed (plus), 29 (BIG minus). At the age of 42, I was not interested in girls that young. I try to keep within at least 10 years. Anyway, it wasn't a big deal, because I had no intentions toward her other than friendship.
Sometime in May, we had met at the gym to work out one Saturday morning. After we were finished, she asked me if I wanted to go get some lunch. I said sure. After all, we had just finished sweating in the gym, who could possibly think that was a date? Oh, you poor naive boy.
We were sitting in Quizno's eating sandwiches, and making small talk. I was uncomfortable in my sweaty clothes, and I made a comment about it. "That's ok. We can get dressed up for dinner next week." I would guess that my face betrayed my confusion about her remark, because she asked if I would like to go to dinner on Tuesday.
Now, I know a lot of people who are simultaneously female and friends, and most of them will tell you that girls like to be asked. So, where are they? I haven't run across that many. I moved back to the south, and here's a girl that is younger than I am asking me to dinner. What do I do? "Sure, that sounds good." I am still a guy. Mistake number one.
I made reservations at a restaurant where I had been wanting to eat, and I told Catherine where we were going when she asked. That would prove to be mistake number two.
Tuesday rolled around, and drove to the back of the condo complex to pick her up. When I knocked on the door, she answered almost immediately. I was wearing casual dress, but she was wearing shorts, tennis shoes, and little dog's shirt.
"Am I early?" Knowing full well I wasn't.
"No. come on let's go."
"We have reservations at Timpano, you know."
"No we don't. I called and cancelled. We're going to do something else."
What?"
"Get in the car and I'll tell you." We walked down the stairs, and she led me to her car. She drove around to my apartment, and told me to go in a and change. I got out of the car wondering what was going on. This was something entirely new. I halfway thought that since she asked me out, she wanted to plan the evening. I wasn't opposed to it. I just wasn't ready for it. I changed into shorts and tennis shoes.
I got back into her car, and off we went. Now, I enjoyed a round of miniature golf as much as the next person, but I was not expecting to be playing the game that night. Not only did Catherine hijack the evening, but she insisted on paying for everything. When it came time to pay, her credit card magically appeared in her hand. I never saw her reach for it. Wolverine has claws. Catherine has a credit card that shoots from her palm. I have never seen a swipe go that quickly.
Recently, a friend called me a Renaissance man. Apparently, since I open doors for women, and walk them to their cars, I qualify as an old school guy. I have to give that one to the parents. So, when this girl insisted on driving and paying it didn't really sit well with me, but I guess I have to try something new every now and then.
After 36 holes, two rounds of golf, we climbed back into the car. She drove at a casual pace, and we continued to make small talk. That was part of the problem. She only knew how to make small talk. Generally, I would like my dates to have more depth than, "OH! I love this song!" It's also helpful when discussing the geographical locations of states that they don't refer to it as "history".
I began to really take stock of this girl. There was very little below the surface, although the surface was fairly spectacular. I have been around too long for that to be the deciding factor. It's not that I am not interested in a beautiful woman, I just want one that can point out the US on a globe. She needs to know what a globe is, of course.
We cruised up International Drive, and Catherine let me know her second passion in life, the Dairy Queen chili dog. Here I am, out with a cute brunette girl who likes mini golf, chili dogs, and wearing Malibu Barbie's clothes. What could possibly be wrong with this picture? Other than the fact that I was not 16, I couldn't think of a thing.
When we finally got back to her place, we had been out four hours, talked non-stop, and I still knew very little about her. I was very careful to avoid a good night kiss, opting for a friend hug. I did not want her to get any ideas.
It was far too late for that. It was just the beginning of the rabbit hole.
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