I had it all figured out. After my divorce, I’d start dating again and then I would write the definitive work of great wisdom about dating after divorce. I even had the title all picked out, “Dating After Divorce”! Everyone would read it, immediately get a divorce and start dating, while I counted the royalties that would be rolling in at the speed of light, if not faster. I would become rich and famous and then I would come out with a sequel, “Dating After Divorce While Rich and Famous” which would appeal to a much smaller audience, but fortunately, with my sharp business acumen, each book would cost $1,000, so I would only have to sell a couple. Madonna would buy one, and so would Jennifer Aniston. Oh come on. Give it a few years.
Anyway, my plan was fool-proof, and after a few dates I was about to pen a note to the Pulitzer Committee, just to give them a heads up and then the worst thing that could possibly happen, happened and I fell in love with The Guy I Went to Ireland With(“TGIWTIW”) and all the dating stopped. But this isn’t a post about How the Guy I Went to Ireland Ruined Everything (that series is coming soon!) It’s a post about What Could Have Been. Because before I met TGIWTIW, I had three dates with three different men. And that’s what we call prelude (some call it “cautionary tale”, but whatever) and it could have led to a great masterpiece of a book– Dating After Divorce. But it didn’t. Instead, it’s leading to this blog post.
So I’m going to tell you about the guy with whom I had a lunch date.
Here’s what I remember about him: He was nice. Here’s what I don’t remember about him: His name.
I never use anyone’s real name in blog posts anyway, so it’s less of a loss for you than a memory loss for me. Not everything is about you, you know.
Anyway, we planned to meet a restaurant at noon and at 11, he texted me that he was tied up at work. I assume that was a figure of speech and that he wasn’t a bondage tester, but you can’t be too careful. Should we reschedule? I asked, and he said, no, let’s just move it by 15 minutes. And then this texting scenario repeated itself until about 1:30, when I started Googling “how long can a person survive without food?” and “is famine fetish a thing?” Luckily, we finally met at 2:15 and I ordered a burger with a side of everything else on the menu. And he ordered a beer.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I asked.
He wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t hungry because he got hungry earlier on and ate. Before our lunch date.
I knew we were gastronomically incompatible and had no future.
So, that was going to be my Chapter One: When Going Out for a Meal, Be Prepared to Have a Meal.
The whole book was going to be filled with life lessons that would help everyone, especially my bank account.
But then my plan went terribly wrong.
Oh, don’t misunderstand me– I’m ridiculously happy. Or as happy as I can be, knowing that others are suffering because of the book that I cannot write. It is to those people that I say– I’m happy for you, on your behalf. I’m happy so that you don’t have to be.
You’re welcome.
{ 0 comments }