“The crickets started chirping while I was waiting for this guy to pay the dinner bill.” The waitress kept waiting, hoping.
Finally, the lady in the story below paid the bill.
We haven’t caught up with the adventures of this gal for a while. Maybe I should call that the misadventures.
Here we have this eligible lady going out on a date, two, three, four times with the same guy. Disaster city.
First date. Movie, popcorn and pizza later. She paid for all of that.
Second date. Bowling. She paid for that.
Date three. Freebie. She went with him to a relative’s house for dinner.
Date four. Dinner. Swank restaurant. She paid for that.
Like you sit there when the bill is on the table while God’s gift to mankind is waiting for her to pay it.
Why not ditch this guy after round one? That’s why this gal is such a tremendous, precious, idiosyncratic find for a guy in his right mind, and a credit card he ain’t afraid to use.
When I say some guy in his right mind, which is appropriate. She said there are some nut cases parading around out there who look and act normal until………………..she’s out on a date with them. Sounds to me like they are possessed and obsessed with their own ego and in need of a brain scan.
This disaster tried to kiss her on the third date. NO, no, no. no. At least in my psychological talks with her, I’m glad she heard a few words I said.
You know like kissing, and then what’s next? No, no, no. no.
I’ve said it, but I’ll say it again, this gal has one of the best senses of humor I have ever seen.
I told her after the four escapades with a guy older than she is, I was enrolling her in “Idiots Anonymous”. She laughed. I laughed. My wife laughed. I hope we permeated the whole place with laughter, because somebody said laughter is good for the soul and body.
I said of her idiosyncratic. That was for being the nice gal four times over. Extending her hand out to what I would call a loser creep. Is this guy lost in the world or something? Trying to identify who he is? I have no idea.
I told this gal she inspired me to set up a new web site called “Don’t Date this Guy.” I’ll mix in a few convict pictures to make it look authentic. That way when some gals who come to the site, I’ll get them experience on how to look for really bad guys. For instance when they look at one, and I tell them that’s Jack the Ripper’s son-in-law, then they can gradually work up to the dating fiascoes, recognizing each grade level as they move up the scale of malfunctioning discontents.
How many times do I have to say this charming, Southern lass most men would get on their knees for, not to propose, but to kiss her feet? She assured me she washes her feet quite often, so they are germ free.
She’s enrolled in the roles of eligible matrimony. What else do you expect, a sign on her back that reads, “Hey, it’s me?”
When she gets married the church will be packed, not with wedding guests, but with guys moaning and groaning and weeping, because they sat in front of the mirror admiring their pseudo Prince Charming self, while the real humble with humility Prince Charming came along and is awaiting her at the altar.
Mendelssohn’s Wedding March never sounded so good. And a beautiful bride.
Original Story Posted 10/7/15
This lady is good looking. This is 2015. I can’t say that. Wait, I think that’s the politically correct police ringing my doorbell. Before they cart me off, I’ll say it again, this lady is good looking.
Okay guys, don’t be putting your selfie up on Facebook for her to look at you handsome devils, or at least that must be what you think of yourself, otherwise you wouldn’t be selfieing.
You see, I’m her manager or agent, or whatever you want to call it. I’m the one who is looking for a husband for her. Why? Well, she told me I could.
I won’t be specific about who she is, and what she does, and where she is. The medical practice where she works would be inundated with healthy looking specimens, and all the medical personnel would be out in the waiting room wondering what’s going on.
You see I’ve sat around in that waiting room (not long, because the doctors are quite prompt here) and looked around and believe me there are no young looking fellows anywhere. Everybody looks rather puny like me, and that’s the reason we’re here.
This lady is smart. She’s two kinds of smart. First, she’s smart naturally. What does that mean for you wolves in men’s clothing? That means, you can’t pull the wool over her eyes. She’d recognize a fellow who says he’s something that he’s not in a New York minute, or a Southern second. So don’t even send me your resume, and waste my time.
She’s smart ‘cause she’s done been to school a long time, and this lady has enough knowledge stored in her brain that it causes my brain to malfunction when she tells me what I’m supposed to know about what’s wrong with me.
She’s not from Birmingham, but she is from a famous city, a city, if I named it, you would want to visit for the many famous people who called it home. I met one of them one time when he was here. He personified what a fab city it is. Of course I did hear word of another native of that city who was kinda uppity in her words, and tried to send the city down the river in her description of it. Wait. Does this city have a river?
This lady is a Christian, which means if you haven’t seen the inside of a church since you were baptized or christened, or whatever you did to get right with your religion, don’t even put a stamp on a resume to me.
What is this lady looking for in a man? Ambition. Go-getting. Never give up on what you’re doing. If you’re prone to sit on your ass and not get up, don’t send me your resume.
It’s not going to take a lot of money to entice this lady. Just a quality individual. Somebody who will treat her with respect.
This lady is the most ambitious person I have met in her generation. I just know she is going to be happy in life. But she doesn’t think she’s entitled to a good life unless she works very hard at making it a good life, a good marriage. She is no slacker. She expects no less from her husband.
Now she didn’t tell me this, but knowing her as I do, there is little doubt in my mind that the night before her wedding when her husband-to-be is out having a bachelor party, she will be down at the Taekwondo place receiving her black belt, or whatever it is that proclaims her proficiency in flipping her new husband out of her life if need be, and he would sign the annulment papers while he’s upside-down in the air, and run when he landed on his feet.
If I was only a hundred years younger I would propose myself. She’s 25-35, and some things just aren’t meant to be. She is a gem, a doll.
Send me your resume. If you come anywhere close to qualifying, I’ll send you the ten page questionnaire I’ve prepared. I don’t want to know much about you, I want to know all there is to know about you.
By the way, if you leave your dirty clothes scattered on the floor throughout the house, forget it.