Florida II: Hell Hath No Fury, She Hath No Sense

After the control date from Catherine, things went back to where they had been. I went to work out, and she would be there. Every. Day. I must admit I was enjoying the attention from a good looking girl, but I always wondered, why me?

After another 4 or 5 weeks of being workout buddies, I got a call from my friend Sam as I was on the way down to the little gym. I was running late that evening, and it had started to get dark, so the pool area was vacant. I walked around the pool as Sam and I spoke. The gym was around a small corner in the pool area, and I could see Catherine warming up. She waved as I walked past, and I pointed at the phone.

Sam had called to ask me about a few things, and the conversation invariably turned to my social life, as it had seemed to do a lot with him. I told him that I had met a woman named Kathy, in addition to Katherine, and Catherine. It appeared that I was destined to be around some variation of KCatherine/athy for a long time.

We laughed about the absurd circumstances I usually found myself in with women. As I passed the gym door, I could see Catherine still warming up. Really, it doesn't take that long, but she was stretching it out waiting for me. Further into the call, I stayed on the opposite side of the deck so I could have some semblence of privacy.I hung up, and walked over to the gym. Catherine was standing outside the door, next to the wall, and just out of sight of where I had been.

"We need to talk." Oh Crap. You are familiar with the three little words women want to hear? These are the four little words no human ever wants to hear. If you are in a relationship, it is a key indicator you might not be much longer. If you aren't in a relationship, 1] the woman wants to know why, or 2] the man is telling you why you won't be.

We walked into the gym and sat down. "I need to know more about this relationship." Relationship? What relationship? We work out. We went out one time. I've known you for over two months, and I barely know what you do for a living (turns out I was wrong about that). I've met your best friend because you brought her here. Oh, CRAP! Should have known why she did that. Stupid. What do I say to her?

"OK. What do you want to know?" Smooth move...Moron.

"Are you seeing other people?"

Good Lord woman, I'm not seeing you. How could I see other people? Think quick. "Well, we only went out the one time, and we never decided on anything formal here, so it's a possibility."

She seemed relieved. At least, her body languaged changed to appear more relaxed. "So, you haven't been out with anyone else?"

"Not for a while. I haven't really had the time."

"I'm glad. I just want you to know, I'm not going out with anyone else either. I want us to be exclusive, because I really want this to work."

There it was. She was throwing down the commitment gauntlet. This was news because, I didn't think of her that way. I wasn't interested in a romantic relationship. I wasn't even sure I could get excited about dating her. She wasn't all that interesting, other than being a beautiful girl. I thought of how I could say no to her, and not hurt her feelings.

"Cathy, I'm not really ready to take that step right now. It's not you (Lie). I'm not ready to to take it with anyone (Lie again)."

Oh great. The lower lip quiver. The tears will start soon. You are going to give in. It's a done deal once the waterworks kick in. Face it. You are doomed. Goodbye cruel world.

"I just wa...wan...wanted...a...a...a...chance for you to...to...to...see how good it could be." And there they are. In between sobs, she mumbled some other stuff, but I won't bore you with the details.

I had three options. 1] Let her cry. Stand my ground. Ride it out. 2] Let her cry. Walk away. (For the record, I really liked this one), and 3] Give it a try. What's the worst that can happen? Never ask this question. Ever.

After a few minutes of internal debate, I decided I would try to defuse the situation without committing to anything. I thought I had the answer. "Cathy, I'm not sure I really want to do this. Why don't we go to dinner again, and see what happens." My friends who are actual females all used the same word when I relayed this incident to them, so there's no need to call me a dumbass now. It would just be redundant at this point.

I should have just made a clean break, but I stupidly tried to ease my way out. Catherine's tears stopped, and she smiled. "When?" Her eagerness gave me a clue that I was just dropping further into the hole.

"How about next Tuesday?" I know it seemed like an odd day, but for some reason I can no longer remember, Tuesdays were good for me.

She quickly agreed, and I entered the Catherine Committment Zone. Let me explain. The CCZ is a magical place, where it's not necessary for you to even realize you are in it. 6am wake up calls are a given. There would be no useful information whatsoever transmitted during these wonderful interactions between us. Alexander Graham Bell would have punched me dead in the face for wasting his invention on something so stupid. The calls generally went like this;

"Hello."

"Good morning 'baby/sexy/honey/sweetie/cutie' (she liked to mix it up)"

"Good morning to you."

"I'm off to the shower. Talk to you later."

And that was it. The "relationship" was a deep, psychological connection.

She continued to show up at the gym every day, and call me every morning, noon, and night. If you added up all the phone calls for the 6 days leading up to our date, I would say that we got in at least 9 minutes of conversation. Deep, psychological connection.

Tuesday rolled around, and I showed up at her door, half expecting some new zaniness on her part. Perhaps she would be decked out for an evening of horseback riding. When she opened the door, I was pleasantly surprised. She was wearing a very nice blue dress. She was ready for an evening out. We went to a nice Italian joint, and she managed to handle a little more than small talk. All in all, it was a pleasant diversion from the date I had envisioned.

I still wasn't feeling anything long term with her, but that had everything to do with the unmatched interests. I really was a little unhappy about it, because she is a very attractive woman. However, that can't be all there is, so I knew it was never going to work.

I took her home, and rather than spoil the evening, I decided to wait a day or two, because I wanted to think it through and be sure. I got up to leave, and Catherine walked over to me to give me a hug. I really didn't want her to take more out of the situation than I was willing to give. I had basically decided that this wasn't going to work, so why push it?

It appeared that she had also made a few decisions of her own regarding this relationship. Before I could really react, she planted a kiss on me. It wasn't an aggressive kiss, but it was a longer-than-a-peck-lip-on-lip type kiss. She followed that up with rather inappropriate hand motions. Our friend A in Dayton will not like it, but I was prepared to end this thing with her, so I did not appreciate the grabbing of junior and the twins.

I pushed her back, and let it be known that it had a been a nice evening, but that was all. With that, I turned and left without a word. By the time I got home, she had already called to apologize. Twice. With text messages. I told her we were not at that point, and we weren't going to get there, and she couldn't force it.

I had already had my fill of those women in Ohio. Catherine had actually done me a huge favor, because she just made it crystal clear that this was never going anywhere, and I needed to end it.

The next day at the gym, she was apologetic, although the 6am and noon calls were just as short as usual. We sat down, and I told her it was finished. She called again that night, and again at 6am the next morning. That calls were longer, because she wanted me to reconsider.

For the next several days, she asked for an explanation. The following Tuesday, we sat down and I went over it very carefully. She seemed to finally get it.

The next day, Wednesday, I got home from work at the usual time, changed, and headed out the back to the gym. I ran right into Catherine. She was in the common yard walking the dog. Here's the problem. She has her own yard several hundred yards away near her place. Plus, she didn't own a dog. It was her neighbor's dog. That sound you hear is the key turning the ignition to start up the crazy.

The next day, Thursday, I walked out into the yard a little slow. There was no sign of Catherine. I walked to the gym, walked in the door, and ran into the most disconcerting sight I've ever known. Catherine was in the gym, and she had 4 of her friends with her. They were on the treadmill, elliptical, and stationary bikes. And they all had their eyes on me. In no way could I have considered it to be a good thing, because it was a scowl-fest.

I tried to work out, but I cold feel all those eyes on me, staring. When I met any of their stares, they would roll their eyes, and look away, huffing in contempt. I could only imagine what Catherine had told them. The only one who held my glance was Renee, Catherine's best friend. She seemed to have less venom.

I stayed in the gym all of 15 minutes, and went home. I fired off a text to Katherine detailing the whole dog and attempts to kill me with their vision thing. She had been in on the details from the beginning. She texted or called, I don't remember, and asked a lot of questions. She also asked if I wanted to go to Universal that Saturday and blow off some steam.

I met Katherine at Universal Studios around noon. We went in, saw a movie, and went into one of the theme parks. During the day, my phone rang, but I sometimes don't hear it in the park. Catherine called a couple of times, but she never left a message. Katherine instructed me that I should not call her back unless she left a message asking me to do so. Yes ma'am. "If you had listened in the first place." Yes mother.

Later in the day, my son joined us after he got off work. We stopped at Wendy's on the way home, and while we were eating, Catherine sent a text. I have to paraphrase, but it said something along the lines of "baby, I'm so sorry, can't we start again?"

It was well after 11pm, so I decided I would call her the next day after church. I shut my phone down during church, and when I turned it on after the service, I had 13 calls from Catherine. All of them were made in the 90 minutes I had turned the phone off. I showed it to my friend Sharon, who knew what was going on. She said, "Oh, stalker bad." Really, you think?

When I showed the phone to Katherine, her response was a little more animated. "SHUT UP! You better stop this now." Again, thanks Captain Obvious.

I finally called Catherine later that evening. I met her down at the pier in the back of the condo complex. I figured if I couldn't get through to her, I could always dump the body in the lake. It took a while, but she did manage to get a handle on the whole "It's not me, it's really all you" thing. She was apologetic, and she cried a little, but I did not let it bother me. The multiple calls mixed in with her pack of crazed hyenas were the last straw.

She still had a little trouble with the wake up call. That went on for a few more days, until she actually figured out I was serious about not calling. It's hard to let those long established traditions go.

So, here I was, left with another round of complete absurdity. At least I can laugh about it now.

Florida I: A Mind is a Terrible Thing

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.

Ohio: That's a Wrap People: Viewer Mail

So, I left Cincinnati with memories of both fun and weird times.

I have fielded a few questions from people about the blog, so it's time for viewer mail.

A in Dayton tells us, "You are crazy. If I had been in your position, I'd have been a total horn dog."
If you enjoy cheap and questionable, have at it my friend.

This one's from Sheri in Kentucky.
"Why did you change my name? You can use it."
Well Sheri, some people might think you're the villian of these tales, and I didn't want anyone to know you were actually Angie. So, if you don't mind, let's just keep that information to ourselves.

S in Florida writes, "Why don't you start selecting the women instead of letting other people do it for you?"
It's simple really. I was a single father with three, count em three, kids at home. I was simply very busy. My friends meant well, and I mostly did it to have something to do. I also had the misfortune of not meeting a woman I would have considered dating. I have, however, met a couple in the past few years. Some of them will make the pages here.

JC in Mississippi had this comment, " Still wiping the tears of laughter from my eyes. You really paint a picture."
Thanks JC. I'm am certainly glad that my humiliation has brought you such joy.

V from Orlando writes, "I am so scared that our first date is going to make these pages."
No need to be scared V. It will absolutely make these pages.

D texts me from Kissimmee, "Hahahhahaha....Oh BTW...I have a single friend. Have you ever considered being a writer?"
It's gratifying to find that your laughter completely wipes your memories of what you just read. Did we not learn anything?
And yes, I considered being a writer once I started to WRITE down the tales in my blog.

T sends mail all the way from California. "You are a trip. Makes me wanna give you a cyber hug while laughing in your ear...and finding you a blind date or two. I think it's midget time ;)
How have you survived all these 8 years or so? Any longish relationships taken your fancy?"
Thanks for the hug. As for the midget, leave the comedy to the professionals.
I have managed to survive all these years by eating and sleeping. I have also had a couple of relationships that went a few months, including a woman who dated me while I had no idea that's what we were doing.

T from New Orleans lets me in on this secret about Round One, "I cannot believe she said that. She had nerve."
"Thanks for the insight."

Well, that's all for now. Keep those letters coming  - liquidpanda@juno.com

Round Seven: How to Boil a Frog

Note: I only include this event because it was one of the last in a long line strange incidents north of the Mason-Dixon line.

I was told not too long ago that men who cook were sexy. I never really thought about it before, but it reminded me of an incident that occurred in mid 2005. I was teaching cooking classes at my church. I had a good mix of ladies from the church taking the classes. One day at work, I happened to mention to Dana that I had to pick up some ingredients for class that night.

Dana was fascinated that I could cook, much less teach classes. I showed her some of my recipes, and she took one she liked to try out. About three weeks later, Dana walked in my office early Monday morning. "That was the best meat loaf I've ever made. The family loved it." I thanked her, and she went back to her office.

A few weeks later, Dana approached me about teaching a class to several of her friends. I would go to her house, and use her kitchen. I thought it might be a start to a little side business. It seemed to be a tailor made situation.

Dana and I worked out a basic menu, based on what her friends were interested in learning. I thought we'd need  around 3 hours to prepare, cook, and eat the dishes. Also, I considered the goof off time and added it in.

The night of the scheduled class arrived, and I stopped at the store to get all the supplies. I pulled in at Dana's house, expecting to be there before her friends, so I could set up and prepare. Naturally, because the story involves me, that would not be the case.

Dana answered the door, and it was fairly obvious that she had been drinking. When I stepped into the living room, there were five other women sitting around a coffee table that had five or six empty wine bottles on it. They had all gotten to Dana's shortly after 5:00, and they had plenty of time to get hammered before I arrived at 6:30.

Thinking it didn't matter if they were drunk since I was doing the cooking, I decided to press on with the class. I would just have to keep the sharp objects away from the happy students. Dana's kitchen had a large island in the center, and about 4 feet of floor on three sides. It was a tight fit for seven people, but it would work.

It took around 20 minutes to get everything in order. It should have taken 10, but the ladies had walked into the kitchen see everything, and they were mostly in the way. Similar to 4 year olds, they had to pick everything up, because naturally none of them had ever seen food before. I won't go through the exercise of giving the names of these women because I don't remember them all. I do recall that all but two were married, and the single girls were the most well behaved.

The evening started off weird, and this group of inebriated females managed to make it even stranger. Try to imagine you are in a room with six women, who are in close proximity, and filled with liquid courage. Please don't delude yourself into thinking they put away their glasses, or that I was there because they were really interested in learning about cooking. I soon came to understand this was a drinking party, with a little cooking thrown in.

If you've ever heard the story of boiling a frog in a pot, then you know that in this scenario, I was the frog, and the kitchen was the pot. And the first sign I realized it, was when I was preparing the chicken with a seasoning rub. "I like the way you handle your meat." I don't know who said it, because I didn't look up. That was a mistake. I made a sarcastic comment along the lines of, "Gee, never heard that one before." The comments got less creative, and and before I put anything on the stove, one of the women produced a box of the finest Pinot Noir $6 can buy.

As the wine flowed, the kitchen magically got smaller. I mean, "ladies", I'm sure your bra works just fine without the added support of my back and/or arm. I'm sure they are lovely, just don't rub them on me. I haven't kept up with all my vaccinations over the years. Also, I can cook just fine with my shirt on, thank you. Why they'd want me to take off my shirt is a mystery. Sure, I was a 39 year old who faithfully went to the gym twice a year, but that still didn't make it prime viewing material.

Anyway, after I finally said enough was enough, they suddenly got apologetic. "We'll behave." Dana assured me. Uh Huh. As I said, the two single girls were the most well behaved, and they seemed to be interested in the actual preparation and cooking. One of the girls was named Cindy, and I noticed that she continued to nurse the same glass of wine the entire evening. She took a position beside me, and created a buffer zone to keep out the crazies.

Things went better after my personal bodyguard was on the job. She subtly slipped herself in front of the charging wildlife and actually slapped a few hands.  The other single girl stood on the opposite side, but she wasn't shielding anything. She was as drunk as the others, but more civil.

I managed to get everything done, and when the women sat down to eat, I cleaned up my utensils and pots instead of eating with them. Cindy came back in to help me, and I was grateful to finish faster.

She carried a box to my car, and she asked if I'd be interested in going to dinner. I asked how old she was, and immediately explained why I had asked the forbidden question. She laughed, and said it was no big deal. She said she was 36. OK. that's better. At least she was in the right age range. I only had a concern with her questionable taste in friends.

Cindy turned out to be the last date I had in Ohio. We went to dinner, saw a movie, and it was really a little plain. I was relieved. We really had little in common, because when you talk to a drunk woman who is in the company of drunker women, she might appear to be a great alternative, but sober is going to roll around at some point. The lack of anything during our date worthy of mention made it a memorable time.

The next time I saw Dana was at work. I didn't want to see her, because , well, do I really have to explain it? She waltzed into my office like nothing happened and began to talk about what a great time they had, how much they enjoyed the food, and that they wanted to do it again. She wanted to scheduled another "class" in a couple of weeks.

I sat back in my chair, and I calmly said no. "Well, why not. We had the best time."

"Good for you that you had a good time. I'm not doing it again."

"The girls all liked you, even if you were a little bit of a stick in the mud."

A stick in the mud? Really? A stick in the mud? I wanted to be polite, and at least pretend that I was not unhappy with her. I had to work with this woman. In the end, I suppressed my my natural desire to leap over the desk and smash this woman into the floor. I looked at Dana, and in a very calm, very controlled voice, I simply said,

"If you and your G$% D$%# drunken harpy coven want a ladies' night, and I stretch the term beyond meaning, order a f%&^#$& pizza."

For some reason, Dana wasn't that unhappy when I left the next year. Can't imagine why.