I genuinely feel that I may be finished with the online dating services. I know, that means no more stories about the horrors and whores of online dating, but in my defense, I've done my share to keep the economy turning in that area. I've noticed that both Match.com and eHarmony have spiced up their advertising, that's probably due to the rumor that I'm giving up. Here's what happened this time....
I'm just sitting there watching American Idol when a woman of the Jewish faith drops me a line and asks if I'm interested. She's absolutely gorgeous, 5' 4" and quite slender, BUT...... I've been seeing this same picture online for more years than I care to mention, so I reply the following:
I don't know how to present this delicately, but I'm afraid you just don't look your age. If I had not known because of reading it ahead of time, I would think that you were somewhere in your 40's. But for you to be 63 makes me think one of three things. Either you've defied nature, had face work done or last and worst, your picture is aged. I have had the good fortune of purchasing a portrait of myself, similar to the story of Dorian Gray and as I aged, the painting aged and I remained young. If you believe that, perhaps we should meet?
A Jewish boy from Skokie...
Her response was:
Yes, I have aged and I am more beautiful than ever as time has been good to me. I feel young at heart and am thinner. If you would like to meet for coffee one evening so we can discuss world events or just gaze into each others eyes let me know.............................
Now you have to admit, her response was perfect and everything said, all systems go! I knew in the back of my mind, that she's 63 and although I'm 64, I've been luckier than most as far as the aging process goes, in spite of my compromised health issues. What I'm saying here, is that I look and act like a man no more than 62 3/4... with gaut.
So I drive out to Tim-buck-too, somewhere on the far West side and meet the lovely Robin for coffee at a Starbucks, once again thanking MJ for financing this escapade with a gift card for Christmas. I was a few minutes early, so I wandered around this strange shopping center and decided to head back. Walking into Starbucks, just ahead of me was a lovely woman, about the right height and from the back and profile, (all I'd seen thus far), she could have been Robin? But she wasn't because this ugly, skinny, white skinned, dyed black haired, wrinkled woman, that looked like she'd just hopped out of the latest Vampire movie and formed a distorted smile on her poor face saying, "Are you Mel"? A million things ran through my mind and none of them were, YES!
Realizing immediately that I had no business being there, I said hello and admitted to being myself. The thought that I might hit her over the head and run out, occurred to me, but I ordered a small Carmel frapachino and decided to treat my taste buds, since my other senses were being horribly offended. That's when I noticed the tooth! Robin had this lower tooth that was right smack dab in the middle of her lower teeth and it stuck straight out at me. First I tried to decide if it belonged to the left side, then the right side, but it was equally at home right in the middle. As Robin blabbed about her 90 year old father and how she took care of him, I pictured her using that tooth to carry her key ring or a place to clip her purse when her hands were full. I COULD NOT TAKE MY EYES OFF THAT TOOTH! How does a person go 63 years with a tooth that, at the very least, should get it's own name! What about Snaggle?
I kept smacking my watch to see if it had stopped, but it hadn't, it was just moving VERY slowly. Finally, an hour had gone by when I blurted out, "We'd better get going" She followed me to the front door, where her car was parked in the handicapped spot. I asked why it was parked there and she replied that her father really owns the handicapped placard, but she likes to use it. That's when she started telling me the story of how she passed out driving and hit a wall. I interrupted her to say that she looked like she'd recovered well and goodbye. She insisted on telling me that she's had a plastic surgeon perfect her injury and all I wondered was why he didn't do something about that tooth?
I made sure she pulled out before I drove away, only to see her walk in front of me after parking her car in yet another handicapped spot in front of Ross where she was going shopping. I hope she found something to buy, so her entire afternoon wasn't a waste.