Recently, I broke down and gave my son the link to this blog. He's about to start married life himself, so I figured he's old enough to know things.
Shortly after I was divorced, I made the decision to keep my dating life and my kids separate. Until he read it here, he had no idea. I always wondered if he ever had any idea that I was dating. He assured me he did not. It is true that your kids don't think of you in that way.
Shortly after moving to Orlando, all three of them decided that it was up to them to get me paired off with a female, and they began the conspiracy to pick their favorite. Naturally, they did not bother to ask me what I wanted, so that failed miserably. It was like having two little Angies living in my house. The notable exception was, and still is, the youngest.
Last year, Katherine called and asked me what I was doing for my birthday. I told her I had a fine evening of chair sitting and television watching planned to commemorate the event. That would not do, so she said she was taking me and the girl out to dinner. When I arrive home from the office, she was already there with the young girl child, age 14.
As we drove to dinner, my mom called to wish me a happy birthday, and warble the song intentionally off key so as to drive me nuts. It's a tradition. As I was speaking to her, I was half-listening to the conversation on the other side of the truck.
Apparently, the daughter made her feelings known to Katherine about the prospect of my providing her with a step-mother. "He can do whatever he wants after I go to college. I don't want any other women in the house until I only have to visit them."
As you would expect, this revelation took the focus off mom's call. As I listened to the back and forth between Katherine and my daughter, I began to understand. She wasn't interested in me getting back together with her mother. That was met with an emphatic "NO!" But, she completely interested in needling Katherine as much as possible.
There are points in your kid's lives when you start to figure out just from which parent they get their sense of humor. This was one of those times. She had mine, and she was busily abusing Katherine with it.
It was a good birthday.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
Florida III: Just Because All the Kids are Doing It
I had met Vicky at my daughter's school. I was sitting in the bleachers in the gym, waiting for the Spring chorus concert to start. I had another hour to go since my daughter had to be at the school over an hour early. I didn't feel like driving home, so I sat and read a book. Vicky was a volunteer mother who worked in the office to fill her time. Her daughter is a couple of years younger than mine, so they didn't have any classes together.
Vicky saw me sitting in the gym, basically alone, and she walked up the aisle to say hello. "We don't get many fathers at these things." was her opening line. I said I knew, since I was usually the only one. The school system we are in is one of the better ones, but most of the fathers work jobs that require 80 hours a week, if they come home at all. I guess I stood out because I was at every one of the performances. We talked a short time, and she walked away when people started to file in.
Over the next summer, I had a lot of communication with the guidance counselor about my daughter's schedule. She was in her last year of middle school. I found out that I had been talking with Vicky most of the time. From that time on, I ran into Vicky at school functions quite frequently. She made several attempts to set up a date, but I wasn't going for it. I really wasn't interested at the time. I had too much going on to try and work a relationship in. Besides, she had a definite desperation vibe.
Finally, in March of 2010, I took the bait. My ex-wife was coming to town for a conference, and the kids were going to be occupied with her. Vicky called on Wednesday, and asked if I had plans to go to the free concert at Universal Studios that Saturday. Universal has a Mardi Gras celebration on Saturdays for a few months every year, with concerts after the park closes. I have a pass, so I go regularly. Without thinking, I told Vicky that the ex was in town, and I figured I would get out of the house and go.
That was when she pounced. "Well, I was going too. Why don't we go together?" At this point, I figured, "Why not? What's the worst that can happen?" Never ask that question. Ever.
So, I agreed, and then I figured I might as well go all out and asked if she wanted me to pick her up. She said she didn't want me to have to drive to her house, then drive back by my place on the way to the park. I guess she thought that since I finally agreed to a date, she didn't want to mess with it.
Saturday afternoon came around, and we agreed to meet at 6:00 in front of the movie theatre as you enter Citywalk. I am usually 5 minutes early when I go somewhere, and this was no exception. When I stepped off the peoplemover, I saw her standing near the rail. I have to say she looked very nice, but there was just something off about her. I couldn't tell what it was, but something did not look right.
We said hi and made some small talk before turning and walking toward the Studios. As I said, it was a Mardi Gras Saturday, and there are several extra green trash cans everywhere because more drinks are available. Got to keep those drunks from throwing garbage just anywhere. Well, we had walked about 20 feet when Vicky turned to me, put her hand to her mouth, said she was sorry, and sprinted to the nearest trash can. She grabbed the rim of the can, bent over, and began regurgitating (See Mom, I didn't say vomit). I had no idea that one person could "deposit" that much garbage without a few gallons of alcohol prior.
Now, here's the part of the story I have never shared. I cannot be around people who are engaging in this activity. I can't stand the smell, sight, or sound of it. It makes me want to join in. So, I did. Not much, mind you, but just enough. Two people puking in a garbage can at Universal Studios on a first date. It was a Hallmark moment. There should be a card.
After what I'm sure was a few hours, Vicky finished, and the vendor standing nearby gave us a free bottle of water (who says theme parks don't have a heart?) to wash out our mouths. Turns out Vicky had been sick all day, but she was determined to make the date. She made it, but not for long. I walked her back to her car, and she apologized every other sentence. I told her it was ok, but she was sure she had ruined her chances forever (She hadn't). She absolutely refused a ride home, insisting she drive herself. I gave her a hug (no way in hell I was kissing her at this point), and watched her drive off. I told her to let me know when she made it home.
I stood there wondering what to do next. After I called my friend and had a good laugh, I went to the concert.
Vicky saw me sitting in the gym, basically alone, and she walked up the aisle to say hello. "We don't get many fathers at these things." was her opening line. I said I knew, since I was usually the only one. The school system we are in is one of the better ones, but most of the fathers work jobs that require 80 hours a week, if they come home at all. I guess I stood out because I was at every one of the performances. We talked a short time, and she walked away when people started to file in.
Over the next summer, I had a lot of communication with the guidance counselor about my daughter's schedule. She was in her last year of middle school. I found out that I had been talking with Vicky most of the time. From that time on, I ran into Vicky at school functions quite frequently. She made several attempts to set up a date, but I wasn't going for it. I really wasn't interested at the time. I had too much going on to try and work a relationship in. Besides, she had a definite desperation vibe.
Finally, in March of 2010, I took the bait. My ex-wife was coming to town for a conference, and the kids were going to be occupied with her. Vicky called on Wednesday, and asked if I had plans to go to the free concert at Universal Studios that Saturday. Universal has a Mardi Gras celebration on Saturdays for a few months every year, with concerts after the park closes. I have a pass, so I go regularly. Without thinking, I told Vicky that the ex was in town, and I figured I would get out of the house and go.
That was when she pounced. "Well, I was going too. Why don't we go together?" At this point, I figured, "Why not? What's the worst that can happen?" Never ask that question. Ever.
So, I agreed, and then I figured I might as well go all out and asked if she wanted me to pick her up. She said she didn't want me to have to drive to her house, then drive back by my place on the way to the park. I guess she thought that since I finally agreed to a date, she didn't want to mess with it.
Saturday afternoon came around, and we agreed to meet at 6:00 in front of the movie theatre as you enter Citywalk. I am usually 5 minutes early when I go somewhere, and this was no exception. When I stepped off the peoplemover, I saw her standing near the rail. I have to say she looked very nice, but there was just something off about her. I couldn't tell what it was, but something did not look right.
We said hi and made some small talk before turning and walking toward the Studios. As I said, it was a Mardi Gras Saturday, and there are several extra green trash cans everywhere because more drinks are available. Got to keep those drunks from throwing garbage just anywhere. Well, we had walked about 20 feet when Vicky turned to me, put her hand to her mouth, said she was sorry, and sprinted to the nearest trash can. She grabbed the rim of the can, bent over, and began regurgitating (See Mom, I didn't say vomit). I had no idea that one person could "deposit" that much garbage without a few gallons of alcohol prior.
Now, here's the part of the story I have never shared. I cannot be around people who are engaging in this activity. I can't stand the smell, sight, or sound of it. It makes me want to join in. So, I did. Not much, mind you, but just enough. Two people puking in a garbage can at Universal Studios on a first date. It was a Hallmark moment. There should be a card.
After what I'm sure was a few hours, Vicky finished, and the vendor standing nearby gave us a free bottle of water (who says theme parks don't have a heart?) to wash out our mouths. Turns out Vicky had been sick all day, but she was determined to make the date. She made it, but not for long. I walked her back to her car, and she apologized every other sentence. I told her it was ok, but she was sure she had ruined her chances forever (She hadn't). She absolutely refused a ride home, insisting she drive herself. I gave her a hug (no way in hell I was kissing her at this point), and watched her drive off. I told her to let me know when she made it home.
I stood there wondering what to do next. After I called my friend and had a good laugh, I went to the concert.
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