The Blog Gang’s third outing is taking on the subject of Halloween. Be sure to check out all the wonderful posts on this subject. You’ll find links at the end!
For me, Halloween equals love. My first date with Jim was a Halloween party. We married the following Halloween. That was Jim’s idea. He figured that a Halloween anniversary meant he would never forget the date. What a Halloween anniversary means when you have kids is that you never celebrate it on the actual day. Which is ok…because handing out candy to the neighborhood children is fun!
I thought I would share the story of my first date with Jim. Which needs to be told in three parts. Here’s part 1…
I was dating a guy named Mark. I wasn’t sure where the relationship was going. We’d had some nice dates. But he drank a lot. That’s been an issue of mine for a long time, so I was leery. But I liked him enough to invite him to my friend Janet’s Halloween party. I’d make him meet my friends and get their opinions of him!
The night before the party, Mark called and wanted to go to a movie. I had plans with my friend Lynn, so we agreed the three of us would go.
Mark came over to my apartment and my mom called. I went into the bedroom to talk to her, leaving Lynn and Mark in my living room. I could hear them talking, so I hurried up with my mom and got back out there so I wouldn’t miss anything.
Mark seemed a little wasted already, but I wasn’t certain. Off we went to a bar before the movie to pass the time. Mark drank. Lynn and I made a lot of googly eyes at each other, watching his every move. Counting every drink.
We took the obligatory duet visit to the bathroom, where Lynn tells me about their conversation back at my apartment. Apparently, Mark had been counting dates and announced to Lynn that we had reached the “sex date” and he was getting lucky.
Oh, really?! I don’t know creeped me out more. That he was counting dates, planning to get lucky. Or that he shared that information with my friend. Ick!
Lynn feigns a headache and takes us back to my apartment. I’m trying to come up with a nice way to tell Mark to hit the highway. He invited himself up, and I tell him I have nothing to drink in my apartment except water and bottled iced tea.
“That’s ok! I brought my own!”
I watch in horror as he stumbles to his car, throws open the trunk and pulls out a half-gallon of whiskey. Time to remind you that I was concerned with his drinking, and this was a giant red flag. As if anticipating the sex date wasn’t enough of a romance killer!
He triumphantly waves the full bottle over his head and tells me he’ll just mix it with water.
“I have no ice,” I point out.
“That’s OK,” he tells me, “I don’t need it.”
Yippee, a resilient drunk…
The sidewalk to my apartment was a series of large steps. You had to pay attention or trip along the way.
Mark didn’t pay attention and he tripped on one of the sections closest to the building. He fell into the building, scraping his hand and the side of his face. Imagine my delight as I was faced with a drunk, horny, scraped and bleeding man. Let me tell you, I was swooning with the thought of having him. Not! Luckily he had maintained his grip on the whiskey bottle, so that was saved!
Inside my apartment he mixes his drink. I glare. And we settle on the couch to watch “Frankenstein.” He’s getting all snuggly and I tell him I have a headache. (Hey, it might be cliche, but it works!)
The credits start rolling at the end of the movie and I jump up, announce that I don’t feel well, and sweep him and his whiskey bottle out the door.
The door barely clicks shut before I grab the phone to call Lynn. I don’t care that it’s nearly midnight. I tell her I hated my date and I didn’t want my friends meeting him at the party. She tells me, “Then don’t take him.”
It seemed so rude…
(to be continued)