This is the second and final part of this story.

Recipe for Disaster part 2: the Accosting

As we continue on this dark journey, I want to back a bit to the date, pre-barf, during which we discussed writing (she is a writer). I had mentioned my site, Love in the Dumps, which is humor for singles; she seemed genuinely interested and said she would check it out. These were of course the happy hours. As we know from part 1, she got drunk, sick, and embarrassed, thanks to a new set of meds that don’t go down well with Merlot.

After the next-day round of ‘how do you feel’ texts, and later some flirty Facebook chats, I got this message:

The challenge of reconciling one’s creative projects with his personal relationships is well documented, but sister – please. I have a website with satirical, and sometimes R rated (but never X) material. You mix meds with booze on first dates then projectile vomit while your date watches Cops in your living room (incidentally, the ‘threesome’ piece she is referring to was a Guy’s Story I did for Simone several months back ). Regardless, it was clear she was taking the offensive with this shot across my bow, setting a new tone – dark, angry, sinister – that she would carry through to the bitter end.

3 months later. Another time, another date, another place – the trendy Ace hotel in Manhattan. Enjoying drinks at the bar when, out the corner of my eye, I see a woman ordering who looks like Miss-barf-a-lot. Knowing that everyone has at least three people who look like him or her in New York, I dismiss it quickly. Shortly thereafter my date excuses herself to go to the restroom, giving me time to reflect upon how well this is going, and how much I might like this person.

Taking a self-satisfied sip of my Cuban Breeze, I glanced over my right shoulder and see my date returning. But something was different. She looked harried, disturbed, frightened. “You have some enemies in this place,” she said, eyes averting mine. Here’s what happened. When my date went to the bathroom, the Love in the Dumps hater cornered her and gave the scoop on me. I’m a creep. I have a ‘disgusting’ website. I am vile and depraved. What’s worse, it looked like my date bought it.

I was ambushed, guard down and now on my heels. All I could do was sputter out a few b-b-b-but’s and empty-sounding excuses (as usual, I thought of 100 great things to say on the way home). Finally she looked me in the eyes. “I have a good job, lots of friends, a nice life. I don’t need this kind of bullshit in it.” Then she got up and left.

I was awestruck, paralyzed, then realized there was but one thing to do. I pounded the rest of my Cuban Breeze and went into To Catch a Predator mode, finding her under a fake palm tree with a friend. Loaded, naturally. She pretended not to notice me but I confronted her with the confused anger of a man who just lost the person he was supposed to have sex with that night.

“What was that all about?” I asked, “I was nothing but courteous to you.”

“It’s kert-eous, first of all,” she slyly corrected my pronunciation of the word. Ouch. Got me again. “Second, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The rest of this brief encounter is foggy, but I think my final words were something like, “I didn’t deserve this” or something stupid like that.

Seething at home at about 3 in the morning, I logged into Facebook. Revenge would be mine, as I posted something nasty on her wall (not that nasty, but not exactly wishing her a happy belated birthday either.) New text, from you-know-who:

And that was that. I think I saw her in another bar not long ago, and we both avoided each other. I’m not sure what the lesson is here, except maybe the more you date, the more trouble you can get yourself into. Perhaps I had it coming, got what I deserved for something I did to someone (though not her.) To me, the moral is pretty clear: take your dating lumps with a smile and keep on truckin’ towards that nameless place.

But Wait! There’s More Like This: