Today is a good day to resume the Radically Single series, methinks. Let's get to it!
Well wouldn't it be a cute story to say the guy you're with is someone you met at a funeral? Or would that just be creepy? Probably both. Yeah, I'm glad I don't have to explain that and deal with the, "What in the world?" looks people might give me. Because, honestly they give me enough of those looks already, I wouldn't need a beau who I'd met at a funeral to explain.
Several years ago, a close friend of mine lost her father in a rather tragic way and I drove out to the city to stay with her family for a few days leading up to the funeral. It was not a happy time, and full of several days of sitting around "Aunt Sally's"* house just waiting. The day before the funeral, he arrived, Mr. Funeral Guy.
There I was sitting around Aunt Sally's house, trying to figure out how to be helpful to my friend's family and yet also not be bored out of my head. And Mr. Funeral Guy was close to my age, and someone who wouldn't burst into tears after two seconds with me. We sat around that afternoon and evening talking about art, music, and well....lots of things we had in common. Before I knew it, I was thinking, "Wait - am I awaiting a funeral and getting chatted up by this guy?" Answer - yes. I was.
Funeral day arrived and well, of course Mr. Funeral Guy was nearby as often as was appropriate, especially to the gal who was singing "It is Well" at her best friends' Father's funeral. Which meant basically, he said hello, and followed me around with his eyes and then gave me a hug goodbye.
Driving home from that trip I didn't really think much of it, except to think "He was a nice guy," but also thinking there's no way I was right about his interest in me, and even if I was, it was weird that we'd met at my friend's dad's funeral, and chalked it up to a weird occurrence.
Exactly seven days later, my best friend calls me and it went something like this:
"Um, Amanda, I got a weird phone call about you today."
"Oh?" <-- me thinking, wait, Mr. Funeral Guy?
"Mr. Funeral Guy wants your phone number, and said he'd hoped your nor I was offended by his wanting your number after meeting you at Dad's funeral. Is it ok if I give it to him?"
"Uh...yeah. That's rather....shocking?" <-- inside little squeals of uncertainty rocked my little head
"Yeah it surprised me....wanna tell me about that?"
"Well...." and then I launched into a description of how Mr. Funeral Guy and I had hit it off at Aunt Sally's.
So after this phone call, Mr. Funeral Guy calls me and we chatted several times on the phone....and it took him a grand total of FIVE calls to finally ask me to dinner. And oh boy, oh boy....here's where things got even MORE interesting....
First of all, let me just say to my male readers of the single persuasion -- when asking a girl out, HAVE A PLAN. 'Tis most frustrating when we're expected to come up with the plan for the date. So yeah, I had to come up with the plan, the location and the meet up time and spot. FAIL.
A week later, I drive up to Barnes & Noble to wait for Mr. Funeral Guy. Now, grant it, We lived on opposite sides of the Greater Houston Metroplex, which on a good day, takes an hour to cross, and on a bad day...well, you could be waiting for hell to freeze over before you make it across the 610 loop. So, I am at B&N for a total of 30 minutes before Mr. Funeral Guy sends me a text that says "I'm running late and there's traffic." So, I find a cozy chair and a book, because I'm aware it could be awhile. However, I did sort of think that maybe Mr. Funeral Guy *might* have left early enough to account for a few minutes of traffic, right? Wrong. Another 30 minutes...another text, "Still in traffic, low air in my tire." Plausible? Probably, I responded quite kindly with a "be careful, I'll wait"...Another 30 minutes "I'm so sorry, I'll explain when I get there hopefully soon, traffic is crazy." How long have I been at B&N? A grand total of an hour and half at this point....
TWO HOURS after I arrived, Mr. Funeral Guy strolls in, greasy hands, dirt down the front of his Khaki's, and half-dried from being soaking wet (it was raining), with an explanation that He'd been in a fender bender and that's what had taken so long. I thought, "thanks, dude the lining of my stomach is eating itself and I've sat here with no one to appreciate my prettiness except for these history books." But in grace, I responded with a "don't worry about it, just glad you're ok." -- Because, face it, we all know that had I been less than gracious, and he HAD actually had an accident and gotten injured, I might have had to blame myself, and I don't need more baggage to my already full luggage rack.
Well, after this and he attempts (I say attempt because it was a failure of an attempt) to clean up a bit, and we go to an Italian Restaurant across the street. We both ordered, and the conversation was somewhat stilted and less than engaging, odd since we'd talked on the phone five times already and there was something that had been there. But apparently that sparkle fizzled in either the rain or the two hour wait...pick your poison, because here comes the winner.
Miss Cute-Waitress-Girl comes to clear the table and asks if it's one or two checks....and yes, Ladies, and Gents, Mr. Funeral Guy looks at me and says, "What do you think?" -- Perhaps my deer-in-headlights look of shock and awe prompted it, but Mr. Funeral Guy did end up paying, but wooooow. In my head, I was thinking "Did you REALLY just ask me if I wanted to pay for my own dinner when YOU asked me out and were stupendously late?" I'm telling you, folks, this was a fail of the most epic kind. Boys, Men and everything in between, please listen....this is a one way ticket to "Never again - E-V-E-R" with any woman.
Dinner was not over a moment too soon, I tell you. We politely thanked each other, and spoke for a few more minutes on the way back to B&N - which thankfully was approximately 1.5 minutes away. I got in my car and drove home, called my friend and went, "What. was. that?" I'm not sure what happened after that, but Mr. Funeral Guy called me later that week, thanked me again for the dinner and understanding and tried to engage me in conversation again. I told him I needed to go wash my hair - or some equally lame excuse and that was pretty much the end of that.
So Thankfully, I don't have to explain a beau that I met at a funeral, and I'm equally thankful I don't have to explain a beau who doesn't get how to treat a lady on a date. Mr. Funeral Guy might ought to have been informed that alive girls don't like to have to pay for their own dates.
Did I mention that this guy is now married? *palm to forehead* I'm not...but let's not think about that too hard, because it's winter and I don't another reason to spiral into depression. ha ha!