Читать книгу Don't Forget the Pepper Spray (Second Edition) - Kristen Marie - Страница 11

23-years-old and dealing with a dating dry spell was no place to be. My gorgeous blonde sister had guys throwing themselves at her, but since she had a boyfriend, she liked to pawn the panting puppies off on me. How pathetic.

Now I was no nerd, well not entirely anyway. I was tall, lean, long brunette hair, fun, outgoing, witty, intelligent… but enough of the adjectives my mom liked to toss my way.

At the time I worked for an insurance company and my sister, the bombshell, worked down the street at Subway. She called me one day and said, “I’m sending a guy up to meet you. He’s seems really nice and he’s been asking me out for a while, and he just didn’t want to take no for an answer. He asked me if I had a sister…so he’s coming to see you.”

Oh great. Two minutes later he’s walking through the office door. He’s tall, a little overweight, dark hair and eyes, but seems pleasant enough, that is until he opens his mouth.

After giving the once up and down, lingering a little too long on the down, he says, “So you’re the sister huh? Well I’ll take you out on one condition.”

“And what might that be?” I asked.

He replied, “If you’ll change your pants, you’re wearing floods.”

I should have clued in right there that this guy was going to be a pompous, chauvinistic jerk, but loneliness and desperation over-rode my decision and I told him he could pick me up at 7:00 p.m.

As I waited for him to pick me up that night, I pondered something else that should have been a red flag for me. His name is Judas, but since Judas is a bad guy in the Bible, he changed the pronunciation of his name to (Joe-des.) Yeah, you’re really fooling people, pal.

Judas was an hour late. I almost left three times to go hang out with my friends, but just as I was getting in my car I saw his headlights slowly maneuvering down the driveway.

He didn’t open the door for me, just rolled down the window and told me to get in.

When we arrived at the Chinese restaurant nearby, the owner greeted him warmly and said, “Oh Joe-des, is this your new girlfriend?” In nearly the same breath she turned to me and expressed, “He brings all his girlfriends here.”

Dinner arrived and no sooner as I reached to pick up my fork, it was slapped out of my hand by Judas. He then fiercely clasped both of my hands in his and said a very loud prayer. He scolded me, letting me know condescendingly, that no matter where you are, you never eat without blessing the food.

Everyone in the restaurant was looking at us, so I tried not to make a bigger scene. But I couldn’t resist giving a smart aleck “amen” at the end.

We got through dinner and got back in the car. He drove me to an outdoor pool complex and parked in front of the driving platform. That’s when he proceeded to tell me the life story of his Olympic dream dashed by his commitment to his religion.

Choking back the tears he told me how he was once the greatest diver in the world and that had he been in the Olympics, Greg Louganis would never had won the gold. Clutching to the door handle, ready to make a run for it, he proceeded to tell me that the reason he had to forgo the Olympics was because he was personally asked by the head of his church to serve a proselyting mission instead.

Now there is nothing wrong with this; in fact it’s quite admirable. But when you combined the shape of his body, with the outrageousness of the story and the holier-than-thou manner in which he told it, the whole thing was farcical.

He wiped away the tears, finally realizing I was terrified by the outpouring of emotion on a first date, and said he needed to go to his brother’s house before taking me home.

Reluctantly I tagged along.

His brother’s family had just finished their dinner. His sister-in-law asked if Judas wanted any of the left-overs, not me, just him. Keep in mind, we had just eaten, but the world-class athlete was all too eager to chow down a plate of Hamburger Helper.

He looked at me and ordered, “Go get me a plate of Hamburger Helper.” No please, no would you like some yourself. Just a commandment.

I had had just about enough, so I looked right back at him and replied, “Your legs aren’t broken, go get it yourself.”

I swear I saw smoke pouring from his ears. How dare a “woman” talk to him, the great (Joe-des) like that?

We then went downstairs to play pool. As I reached for a pool stick, he grabbed it from me and said, “No, women don’t play; their job is to cheer on their man from the sidelines.”

Are you kidding me? Honestly. What era was this? Certainly not the end of the 20^th Century.

I walked upstairs and watched cartoons with his nieces and nephews until he was ready to leave.

Two hours later we walked out the door. His sister-in-law hugged me and said she hoped to see me again. Judas rudely retorted, “Don’t worry, you won’t.”

Fine by me I thought with a smile. Just get me home.

We didn’t speak a single word the entire drive back.

He descended the driveway and when the car came to a stop, he leaned in for a goodnight kiss. No joke.

But I was ready, hands on the handle ready to spring. Which is exactly what I did, shouting “See ya!” as I ran to the house for refuge.

As I shut the door, I heard him peel out of the driveway. And that was the last time I saw Judas (Joe-des), whom I affectionately refer to now as Jud-ASS!