The Date that Really Wasn't

Mr. Tall, Bald and Handsome, shows up, a little early, to find me all in a dither - gee, get our your shocked faces - my hair is sooo not behaving, the lipstick fell into the sink, my hands are shaking, and as we are going to an early movie, I’ve finally settled on jeans, a tee, and a sweater, tied jauntily round the shoulders. The knot of the sleves, hit right in the middle of the vee neck tee; thus calling attention to the girls that I wish were part spandex - this whole rolling them into a bra and hoping to hell they stay there just makes me feel old.

But, I digress. The doorbell rings, Foxy’s off like a shot, puppy barking madly behind him, while also simultaneously chasing her tail, and then? There he is. Overwhelmingly large in my wee condo - he takes up as much room as say, a tank, or a moose. Only, far more attractive, and well, as the moose comparison goes, far less smelly. He thows some balls with Fox, who is ecstatic, that someone other than Mommy is tossing around a ball (okay, so it helps that he can actual throw the ball, whereas I more…like….throw like a girl) and Pucker? Well, she may not be bright, but she has rather excellent taste in men. Or, so I thought.

The ride up to the theatre is rife with my little guy laughing, like he’s not laughed in a long time; I’m all misty eyed in the front, thinking rediculous things…like could this be it? Could this turn into something great? Foxy adores him, and he’s known him a nano-second, Pucker laid at his feet and begged him to touch her - slut! - (really, you never show the belly and pink parts til the 6th date!) - and me? I’m all smiles, and actually forgot about my hair.

Really. That’s saying something when a man can make you forget your hair looks as though you’ve combed it with a backhoe, and styled it with a nuclear weapon.

But at the theatre? I paid. For the tickets, the popcorn, the blue icy thing (blech) and the arcade….which makes me wonder, if he’s all Officer and a Gentlemen, where is the Gentlemanly Whipping Out Of The Wallet? Was I supposed to pay if Fox didn’t go? Sure, I’m kind of enlightened - if the date sucks, I’ll offer to split the check, but basically, it’s a general rule of thumb: he who invites, pays. She who accepts, does not.

So I’m miffed; slightly…..though, I am soaking up the Wonderful Mommy Points I was getting from Fox.

The lights dim, and the next thing I know, I’ve got two sets of hands holding mine (good dieting trick, no hand for the popcorn) and M is warm. And big. Solid. Strong. And well…..lovely to sit next to. With that to-die-for-voice thing going to, when he whispers something about the movie into my ear. Dreamy, really.

Foxy’s more sticky, and wet, needing napkins, and a little messy with the popcorn, but as this clearly isn’t a Real Date, it doesn’t really matter. Plus also? I’d never pass up an opportunity to hold hands with my little guy. He’s already getting way too close to the Girls Have Cooties Don’t Touch Me stage.

And, then, when the lights go up, and the screen goes dark, and we’re slipping out into the falling night, Fox pipes up and says, this is the bestest date he’s ever been on.

It’s the ONLY date he’s ever been on. But, I gather, that M doesn’t think so….from the look on his face, you’d have thought I separated some important life form from his body. Like the two little bags he carries his brain in. Honestly.

Fox falls asleep, when we get home, Pucker does her Touch Me! routine to the hilt, and he kissed me goodnight. He’s a good kisser. A really good kisser.

But.

I have to say.

This whole paying for everything, and then getting kissed goodnight? Feels like I bought it - and that sucks. No wonder men who pay for lobster think they’re getting laid - they’re buying the best thing on the menu, so shouldn’t they get to sample the best thing on your menu?

I cannot have my whole perspective of dating - and the world - be upended. No, that simply won’t do.

If he wants to see me again, then he’s going to have to pay for dinner, or drinks, or the movies - then, it’s not like it’s a Bought Pity Date; it’s a real one, where he invited me because he thinks I’m witty and fun, cute and adorable….with clearly outrageous hair.

By the way?

If he does ask me out again?

Don’t tell him - I don’t want his head to swell or anything - I think I might just say yes.