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I’ve met someone (online) who might just be Mr. Right. He’s such a gentleman in his correspondence, he can spell and knows all his words, he is cute, short, smart and best of all he has dogs, who look lovely in their picture. He said I was a gorgeous, sensitive guy….he might be a perceptive gay genius! Tonight we are meeting for dinner at the Chimney House. This man I’ll call “Peanut” but that’s not his real name, anyway Peanut had informed me like a week ago that he was recovering from “major surgery.” I quite naturally assumed mid-50’s, hip replacement, but I didn’t ask. Anyways, he said he was mobile, spry enough to drive downtown for the date.

I am soo excited and looking forward to the night. Peanut & I agreed to “take things slow” and “do it the right way” i.e. cow/milk free. Plus I have realized that I almost immediately lose interest in a guy if we hookup. Chillout, patience, maturity I needs ’em all…all the things that I’m not! but must utilize and implement to catch and keep this guy.

I am useless at work and slip out around 1 p.m. When I thought Peanut had a broken hip or whatever I went out and bought him some books to read while on the mend: Running with Scissors, Life of Pi & Me Talk Pretty One Day. I buy wrapping paper and a bow and a card at Target. I then proceed to wrap the books up in a horrible, crumpled fashion, try again, this time I just wrapped the paper around and around the middle of the books, good enough. The card is a Thank You! card with a bulldog. This is what I wrote:

Hi Peanut, I wanted to say Thank You for lifting my spirits. Just knowing we are going out, that I have a date, that someone is thinking about me…has put the spring back in my step and it feels good.

I go and get a pedicure and a haircut. I invest in a green Polo shirt from Marshall’s that matches my eyes. Bam! I look good…Peanut had mentioned in an email how much he would like to see me in some red Speedos. For the next 2 1/2 hours I search everywhere for red Speedos, Sports Authority, Dicks, TJMaxx, Target…nothing. The gay guy at SA just laughed when I inquired about red Speedos, saying “We can’t keep them on the shelf, men love ’em, it’s almost like a fetish or something.” They had black and purple, but no red, so Good Day, moving on. Plus, they were $36…:(

I splurge for this cucumber mask from Bed, Bath & Beyond, a luxury item, expensive as fuck, but I have a date with Peanut, Mr. Right (maybe)…I need to look as youthful as possible.

The Chimney House is actually in my neighborhood, like 1/4 mile away. We had agreed on 7:30. This is Peanut’s email to me:

I’ll be there at 7:15!!  What will you be wearing so I can know it’s you.  I’ll alert all the waiters to be prepared for your grand entrance.

I leave my house just after 7 p.m., flying high on optimism, I got a date with Peanut, the dog days are over, he likes me he really does. Maybe after dinner we will go walk on the beach and it will be cold and we will cuddle up & I will get my first kiss! I know the meal will be fine, I am supremely confidant in my conversational skills and have an opinion to share about everything…

I prop the half-ass wrapped books on the hood of my car, against the windshield wiper. My car is facing Las Olas. When Peanut brings me back to the house I will say something all cute like ” Look the book fairy” or I don’t know…and he will get his books and say How Thoughtful! This guy is special (good special) I also leave the house a straight mess, dirty dishes in the sink, dirty dogs, dirty clothes…all of these measures implemented to make sure Peanut can’t come in, not an option, I am not the strongest when it comes to taking it slow…I want this to work with Peanut soo much, leave nothing to chance.

I remind myself to quickly tell Peanut that I talk too much when I’m nervous or excited, in case I turn into chatty Cathy. I am amped, jazzed, as I start walking I am picturing Judy Garland on that mountain sending “The hills are alive with …” I am also singing “Love Will Keep Us Together”, having heard it earlier.

Maybe walking was a bad idea. I break into a sweat and now I’m worried my forehead will be all shiny when he first sees me. I walk into like five spiderwebs, one went in my mouth. I get to the restaurant at 7:27 p.m. I tell the waiter that I’m meeting Peanut, who I know is waiting on me, all excited and whatnot probably, I know he got there early…the hostess tells me Peanut hasn’t arrived yet. I go to the bathroom, I’m still good, baby faux-hawk, gauges, green on green, ya heard?

It’s 7:35, 7:40. I start to feel a bit uneasy. I realize that in all our emails we never exchanged phone numbers. I don’t know Peanut’s last name. I can identify him in a line-up or at an adult book store or something like that. I walk across the street and sit on the curb to check my yahoo, and there it was, time-stamped 1:36 p.m. Thursday 10/31/12:

Sorry John, but In have to cancel tonight. 

Just the one grammatically incorrect sentence, no had an emergency, sick, fell again and broke other hip, sun-downing and confused…nothing.

I am very briefly angry, then as the stereotype that I am, I start to cry as I walk home. I walk into like three more motherfuckin’ spiderwebs. I think how stupid I must look, how sad. 15 minutes ago I was practically skipping toward Peanut, nothing but blue skies, so naturally high in the moment, in the possibility, in the brief, brief, happy, happy. I had given Peanut all these positive personality traits, what I wanted him to be…my knight in shining armor, so smart, such a gentleman. I don’t know, Peanut could be a murderer or 300-pound white lady, who knows? Peanut knows, but not deluded, manic-y John.

I pick my probably-wouldn’t-appreciate-them anyway books up from the car’s hood. I call Domino’s and order a large pan with bacon & ham & pepperoni & also order two chocolate-molten lava cakes. I turn off all the lights and kind of fall asleep/catatonia/shock…PTSD? When the food comes I shovel it down, greedy, ugly, not even tasting it.

I pick Cricket up and try to rock her like a baby, but she squirms and bucks and head-butts me on the chin, wanting down. I feed them small pieces of the pizza crust. Squeak is drooling. They love human food. When they look up at me with their bulging eyes, when they are waiting for me at the door when I get home from work , dancing around and barking and happy…they are saying “I love you, I love you.”  Two furry little gremlins love me, I am special to them, if to no one else.