So you gotta car...

After an earlier yet disastrous first date and my walk out, I met this guy Richard who, for whatever reason, decided to hone in on me like a missile on a target getting ready to blow up at a locals beach pub. We talked on and off through the night, as I mingled and he continued to always come back to me. Eventually he cut to the chase, asking for my number. What the heck…I know I don’t know him and just met him, but if I were to experience this dating thing after divorce, I would need to take some risks and see where it goes. He looked decent enough, wearing a pair of jeans and a white shirt of some blend with a casual look, but maybe even a bit of flair with an onyx ring on the right hand. I don’t know many guys sporting rings other than college rings, but this one was different and certainly noticeable.

A few days later, an unknown number called my cell phone. I decided not to answer it but send to voice mail. Later that night, I checked my messages to hear Richard saying he enjoyed meeting me and would like me to call him back. It was a simple, but to the point message. I didn’t return the call until the next day, only to hear he was not available to talk but asked if he could call back later. Sure, whatever. Wasn’t holding my asthmatic breath, but if he called, I would probably answer now that I know who the number belongs to. Later that night he called and we talked real briefly. He asked me out for the Friday night upcoming and I agreed. Pretty easy, quick and painless. This was not as hard as I thought, meeting guys and going out thing. Mom was right, I can do this!

Friday came and he offered to pick me up. Well, I have this rule about people coming to my house and picking me up: it’s just a “what not to do” for me. I don’t like people to know where I live, subjecting my children in any way to potential dates or even letting them know I am dating around. Their welfare and protection is my top priority. My private life is VERY private and any dates just aren’t welcome until I get to know them. My philosophy has always been: if someone wants to screw me over, I’m an adult and can handle it, but my kids…no way! Oops, got off track; back to the date! So, we met at a meeting place midway and decided to go in his car.

His car…oh my! I wasn’t even sure what it was, but knew just by design it was n..i..c..e or these days they say PHAT! When I entered the passenger side, the interior was suede, soft leather and absolutely immaculate. As we started out towards the restaurant, it began to rain. Richard was telling me all about his car. It was a real sports car, custom designed and ordered for him, only a few on the East Coast like it. He explains he is a real car enthusiast and spends most of his free time and money playing with his car, cleaning it and continuing to customize it. Even has had it featured in a few magazines and just is overjoyed by it’s power. I confess, although not catholic as mentioned before, it really was impressive! As he shifted gears from the red light, we took off like a rocket! We were at 86 miles per hour in just two blocks! Wow! It was crazy! Plus, it was luxury nice! Then he told me the price…holy crap, Batman! That’s almost three times my annual salary!!

We arrived at the restaurant and by now the rain was coming down harder than before. He began to freak out about how he couldn’t believe he had his car out in this weather. It’s just a car, I was thinking. No, it was not just a car in his eyes. This was his baby! His pride and joy! And, she was getting water spots, rain debris and dirt splashes from the road. A little freaky, but we all have our passion. Dinner was nice, but the conversation totally revolved around his car. How he had spent x amount of dollars on trading out the tires, adding Pirelli’s and custom hub cabs and even the little center emblem of the tires was changed out…on a car! Crazy! I didn’t really understand any of it, except that it costs a lot and that’s where he spends most of his time, tinkering with “her” in the evening hours. Well, that’s not such a bad hobby, I guess. Every body has their thing and this is his. No kids to shuffle to and from sports events, work functions, but a hobby of making sure the car is clean and just as it came off the showroom or production floor. Things could be worse, right? His hobby could be 12 oz. curls and a bar; plus, he could drive a beat up Chevy with a bungee cord holding the passenger door on!

After dinner, he decided we might want to drive to an outdoor bar/ band area to enjoy the beach or at least go dancing and hang out. But, wait, it was raining still…remember? As I got into the car, he cringed…out loud I heard him say, “There’s dirt on my floor mats!” Of course there’s dirt! I walked across the parking lot and got in; I don’t have wings and certainly can’t fly-I have two legs and I walk! Neither did I take off my shoes to enter the car as the sign in Hawaii at the door to friends home suggested “Mahalo for removing your shoes!” It was a car and I stepped in to sit and go to the next place. Nope…I had brought dirt in. Oh, crap! Now, I’m in trouble. As he is trying to brush the dirt off, with rain still pouring down, I couldn’t help but think he was for sure neurotic about his car and too much so for me. I take good care of my car, a nice one at that, but I am not obsessive about it. I tote the kids to and from their events, toss work stuff and golf clubs in the back, no weird smell inside and no leftover Mickey D’s or coffee cups floating about. Every now and then I clean it myself and can be somewhat OCD about getting the stray dog hair out of the carpet or dirt from the all weather mats. But, not like this. Why bring the car out if you know it’s going to rain and you aren’t going to be comfortable with this? I’m a simple girl and as the song goes: “so, you gotta’ car…that don’t impress me much!-No, oh no!”…”That won’t keep me warm in the middle of the night…” For sure!

So, I asked if he would just take me to my car and we would call it a night. He announced he really didn’t want to drive all the way across town to where my car was parked. He didn’t want to get his car any dirtier than it already was in the rain. Finally, his idea unfolded and was verbalized: “you can just stay at my place and I will take you back in the morning.” What kind of girl do you think I am? I just met you and…no..I’m not staying at your place! Well, he continued to come up with brilliant plans: I could just sleep on the couch or he would even give up his bed. “Don’t you want to be my girlfriend?” he asked. I quickly answered a big fat “No! I just met you and I’m not so sure I even like you!-for real!!” Dig deeper, buddy! I just want to go home to my house and that hole you are digging is getting deeper and deeper the more you talk! And by the way, no you aren’t invited to my house either! You can sleep with your car tonight and for the rest of your life, as far as I’m concerned.
I pressed even harder: take me to my car, or be a real man maybe for once in your life, or at least a gentleman, and call me a taxi. Your choice, but either way, I am going home-to my house and alone! After much deliberation, and seeing that I was really over the whole car thing and not going to do anything with him tonight or ever, he drove me to my car. I said a quick good-night, waved a polite “see ya, wouldn’t want to be ya” good bye, got in my rain soaked car, shoes on and all weather mats on the floor. Oh the comfort of my car-I’m back in the driver’s seat!