Three Skirts and A Cup Of Coffee

First date. I was late.

Fifteen minutes. One town over. Couldn't find the bookstore. I hate being late. Bad first impression. Handsome guy. Ran a fast yellow light spraying hairspray in my mouth instead of mouthwash. I spit in my own car. Thinking about the guy I passed on this week because he had a motorcycle and how would I reapply my lipstick on a bike. The things that go through my pencil head. I.know.Katherine. don't.say.it. No time for second thoughts now. Screeched to a park with thankfully little hairspray in my mouth. Threw the cellphone in the purse. Blew in like a woman on a broom. Thank God for no-run pantyhose or I would haven eaten nail polish too. Hi. I'm late. I'm sorry. Thanks for waiting. Introductions.

"We should have exchanged cell numbers in case this happened," I said.

"I don't have one except my mother's," he said. (Flag. Red. Uno. Ummm....he doesn't get up. I'm sorry, guys, but when you are sitting and waiting on a lady to arrive, get UP. It's polite. And I grew up with a grandpa who held doors and took off his hat and oh I digress, back to the story) Somebody explain to me WHY I sat down with him.

Pencil Skirt: white slacks, blue scalloped top, matching pearl earrings, pearl necklace. pearl bracelet, bone heels

Mr. LaidBack: Tshirt. Shorts.

I didn't have the nerve to look at his feet. He was handsome. I'll give him that.

He didn't like to dance

he didn't like to read

he didn't like to listen to any music except on the radio

he didn't like coffee

he hadn't had a hobby in ten years

But one thing he did have. A wandering eye. Two of them. I generally do not notice if a man ogles another woman in front of me because, let's face it, it just doesn't happen. (bwaahahhhaa) But seriously. Men past forty-five should know better. If a man flirts with or turns on the charm with another woman or even the waitress when we're out, I find it more unfathomably rude than annoying. I just ignore it and check mental note "untrustworthy" But this time it happened twice in the first 10 minutes. And then it got amusing.

Lucky me we were sitting near the entryway and he faced the door. One eye on the door. One eye on me. I kid you not. It was a whole body experience for him. I wasn't even gonna feign a migraine to get out of this one. Pay attention.
Here's what I did.

When the evil eye prepared to fixate on its inevitable prey by the door (women know these things) I would ramble on faster and faster as only I can do and get even more animated using my hands, tossing my hair....and then s.t.o.p....i.n...m.i.d...s.e.n.t.e.n.c.e and W.A.I.T. F.O.R H.I.M.. because once he fixated he was a goner for at least a good 30 seconds. I'd follow him follow her. Wait for him to follow her some more and then the Chatty Cathy doll would resume. It never even occurred to him that I had stopped talking. Here's how it works in case you ever wanna try it.

Skirt #1 approaches the Starbucks counter (I'm thinking he wishes he'd said he liked coffee) "So do you like to.........he drifts off into hemline heaven and I wait for him to return. He is smiling. At her. I am smiling. At her. He never even noticed that I had stopped talking.
I follow him in silence. Poor girl now has two oglers. He sees me following him following her and looks at me....

"read?" I asked with all seriousness

"I'm not one for reading."

"I see. Do you like to......

Skirt #2 with a brunette bouncing pony tail sits down at the table to his left directly in front of me. He notices her. She sat. She notices him. I followed their smile. He followed her ponytail. I followed her ponytail. He looked. I looked. I watched him look. I waited for him to come back to earth. She got a phone call and he did.

"......dance?"

"Not in years."

I see. Silence. He says nothing for about 3 minutes. I start rolling my eyes and tapping my fingers on the table. Why NOT???!!
I just wanted to be annoying.

"Have you ever....." Ah! Right on cue.

Skirt #3 with a VERY short hemline, blond bob and matching book bag stops at the Clearance table. I thought she was adorable but what do I know? I'm just there for the coffee. He follows. I follow. He watches. I watch. I watch him watch. He never notices I'm not talking anymore. Even as this is about the sixth time this has happened in an hour. She disappears behind a bookshelf and he literally leans over to watch her disappear. So did I!

"....been married?"

"What was that?"

"Have you ever been MARRIED??!"

LOoooooong silence.

There were signs everywhere. I started to see things in my coffee cup. I thought maybe he needed time alone with the skirts so I went to get MYSELF some coffee and get this (he never once offered) I found myself asking out of that darned southern politeness "Could I get you something?" even i-can't-believe-i-said-that

"No. I don't like coffee."

And then it hit me.

Oh my ever lovin' peace globes.

I looked closer. I had the eeriest feeling. Who? What? When? He was 48 but could easily pass for 38. Lots of hair. Not a wrinkle in sight on his face. And a dead ringer for a younger version of my ex-husband.

I decided I needed an oat bran muffin and an escape plan.

I made as much noise as I possibly could at the counter just ordering my drink. Digging in my purse. Trying to decide. Changing my mind. Minding my change. I asked for French Vanilla. She thought I said Citronella. Laughter laughter laughter laughter. I had more fun at the counter with the people in line than I did with Wandering Eye. Three dollars and thirty-one cents later I sat down with a lot of caffeine, one resurrected husband and our four wandering eyes. The only time we laughed was when I made a joke.

And then I got really tired of entertaining his shorts.

I wanted to go shopping.

I tried to keep it simple. Really I did.

"So....we're in a bookstore. What's your favorite newspaper?"

"The Boston Globe."

"Great! I usually read it online."

"I don't read it."

"But you said it's your favorite..."

"I just don't read it."

"I don't think we have anything in common," I said.
"You are artsy," he said. (because I wear CLOTHES??)

" I think I'll check out the Clearance table before I go. Nice to meet you. Bye."
And the worst part? THIS is where I'll always remember I was when I heard that Michael Jackson died. On a blind date with a skirt ogler. It is forever burned in my memory. Oh the humanity.

I am traumatized.
I don't even remember where the other half of my face is....