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ninanevermoreToday on my drive into work, I was thinking about the conversation my husband and I had before I went to sleep last night. We somehow wound up back on the topic of teenaged waitresses and how he was invisible to them now.
"I wasn't always invisible to them," he said, "I got your attention."
I looked at him and grinned. We were both waiting tables in an Italian restaurant when we met. I was doing it for a summer job after my sophomore year in college. He was trying to raise a little extra money while he regrouped after having a marriage go sour, a business go bankrupt and his volatile ex-girlfriend give birth to his baby. He was 30 and I was about to turn 20; my father would not be pleased with this relationship.
"That's right," I said, "we were both slinging pasta. But I was only a teenager for the first 25 days we dated." Our first date was July 1st, 1989; my birthday was July 26th.
Neither of us expected much from that first date. I had just come out of a bad relationship and was not eager to start another one right away. For that matter, I had decided never to be in another relationship again ever. I expected him to be a jerk at some point in the evening so I could get over the crush that I had developed. The way I know that he didn't expect much from the date is because I found out later that he had another rendezvous lined up for later, after our date was over.
We had dinner and we went to a movie and then went back to his place. We talked. We told stories. We laughed. We kissed. He made a proposition. I declined.
I felt my face grow red. "I don't move that fast. I'm sorry." Here was his opportunity to prove that all men were jerks by pressing the issue. He disappointed me.
"That's all right," he said, "We can just keep doing this," and he kissed me again. I was dismayed. If he kept being so nice I knew there was a good chance I would fall in love, which was the last thing that I wanted. For one, I was mortified that he was 30, which I considered to be very old. I wasn't sure how I was going to explain him to my friends.
There was a knock at the door. A strange look came over his face. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"Hold on," he said as he got up, "There's something I need to take care of."
He opened the door. A tall, dark-haired woman with a grim look on her face stood on his front porch. "Who's this?" she asked, pointing her chin toward me. I nodded at her and waved my fingers at her in a gesture of hello. She nodded back, cordially if not exactly friendly. Jeff said something quietly to her that I couldn't hear and stepped outside to speak with her. He was back after a few minutes.
"Who was she?" I asked him.
He explained that she and he had been dating, though not exclusively, and that she had been expecting him to come by her place. "But I was having such a good time with you I kind of forgot."
I was flattered.
About 15 minutes later there was another knock and another dark-haired woman stood outside, this one shorter and a bit plumper than the first. The first woman, who had seemed so calm when she left, had gone to her friend's apartment nearby and was pitching a fit and tearing up her friend's place in her outrage. The friend wanted Jeff to come over and talk some sense into the first woman.
He looked embarrassed. "I promise I'll be right back. Please don't go anywhere."
I agreed to stay put.
He was back in about 10 minutes, and we proceeded to make out and talk for a few more hours before I finally went home at 4 A.M. He didn't score that night.
It was sometime later, after our relationship was established, that he confessed what was really planned for that night. He had been dating the first woman, Cindy, for the last couple of months prior to meeting me. The other woman was her good friend. Cindy had planned a menage a trois for the three of them, which Jeff had stood up because he was enjoying our date too much.
Last night, I was teasing him about this.
"Didn't it occur to you to send me home when I said I wanted to take it slow, and then meet up with Cindy and her friend?"
"Not really," he admitted, "I didn't have a lot of experience with stringing along a group of women. I suppose I could have."
I rolled over and snuggled up against him.
"Boy, did you blow it," I said, "You missed out on a threesome so you could spend more time with a girl who didn't even put out. Don't even think you're getting that opportunity again."
"Oh well," he said, "Nothing I can do about it now. I guess I'm stuck with you."
"Damn strait," I said.
"I wasn't always invisible to them," he said, "I got your attention."
I looked at him and grinned. We were both waiting tables in an Italian restaurant when we met. I was doing it for a summer job after my sophomore year in college. He was trying to raise a little extra money while he regrouped after having a marriage go sour, a business go bankrupt and his volatile ex-girlfriend give birth to his baby. He was 30 and I was about to turn 20; my father would not be pleased with this relationship.
"That's right," I said, "we were both slinging pasta. But I was only a teenager for the first 25 days we dated." Our first date was July 1st, 1989; my birthday was July 26th.
Neither of us expected much from that first date. I had just come out of a bad relationship and was not eager to start another one right away. For that matter, I had decided never to be in another relationship again ever. I expected him to be a jerk at some point in the evening so I could get over the crush that I had developed. The way I know that he didn't expect much from the date is because I found out later that he had another rendezvous lined up for later, after our date was over.
We had dinner and we went to a movie and then went back to his place. We talked. We told stories. We laughed. We kissed. He made a proposition. I declined.
I felt my face grow red. "I don't move that fast. I'm sorry." Here was his opportunity to prove that all men were jerks by pressing the issue. He disappointed me.
"That's all right," he said, "We can just keep doing this," and he kissed me again. I was dismayed. If he kept being so nice I knew there was a good chance I would fall in love, which was the last thing that I wanted. For one, I was mortified that he was 30, which I considered to be very old. I wasn't sure how I was going to explain him to my friends.
There was a knock at the door. A strange look came over his face. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"Hold on," he said as he got up, "There's something I need to take care of."
He opened the door. A tall, dark-haired woman with a grim look on her face stood on his front porch. "Who's this?" she asked, pointing her chin toward me. I nodded at her and waved my fingers at her in a gesture of hello. She nodded back, cordially if not exactly friendly. Jeff said something quietly to her that I couldn't hear and stepped outside to speak with her. He was back after a few minutes.
"Who was she?" I asked him.
He explained that she and he had been dating, though not exclusively, and that she had been expecting him to come by her place. "But I was having such a good time with you I kind of forgot."
I was flattered.
About 15 minutes later there was another knock and another dark-haired woman stood outside, this one shorter and a bit plumper than the first. The first woman, who had seemed so calm when she left, had gone to her friend's apartment nearby and was pitching a fit and tearing up her friend's place in her outrage. The friend wanted Jeff to come over and talk some sense into the first woman.
He looked embarrassed. "I promise I'll be right back. Please don't go anywhere."
I agreed to stay put.
He was back in about 10 minutes, and we proceeded to make out and talk for a few more hours before I finally went home at 4 A.M. He didn't score that night.
It was sometime later, after our relationship was established, that he confessed what was really planned for that night. He had been dating the first woman, Cindy, for the last couple of months prior to meeting me. The other woman was her good friend. Cindy had planned a menage a trois for the three of them, which Jeff had stood up because he was enjoying our date too much.
Last night, I was teasing him about this.
"Didn't it occur to you to send me home when I said I wanted to take it slow, and then meet up with Cindy and her friend?"
"Not really," he admitted, "I didn't have a lot of experience with stringing along a group of women. I suppose I could have."
I rolled over and snuggled up against him.
"Boy, did you blow it," I said, "You missed out on a threesome so you could spend more time with a girl who didn't even put out. Don't even think you're getting that opportunity again."
"Oh well," he said, "Nothing I can do about it now. I guess I'm stuck with you."
"Damn strait," I said.
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