Keep Coming Back


I met with the Italian Stallion not because I held any hope that he might be Mr. Right, but more because the meeting was to be at Charlesport Village. This is an historical fishing port and I love the sight of all the fishing boats, the pier, the dike, and the quaintness of the shops that surround the water. We met on the dating site and emailed a few times before we agreed to meet. He wrote in his last message that maybe we ought to meet at a store miles away and then I could go with him in his car to the restaurant. I went to bed that night feeling unsettled with that idea. One never knows who one is when met in the cyber-world. I’ve been lucky so far.

The next morning I took a look at his profile again; he’s much older than me, writes in broken English, and the pictures do not depict a man who is attractive in any way. And then the offer for me to take a drive with a strange guy.  Hmmmmm…wasn’t that Ted Bundy’s MO?

I wrote a short note, “I can’t make it today, Frank. Have yourself a great day regardless,” and waited for his reply.

He wrote back, “Don’t waste any more energy talking to me, Adrienne. Don’t bother writing back.”

It was a curt reply and I have to admit it kind of stunned me for a few seconds. Then I did something that I’m questioning at this moment. I wrote back that I felt uncomfortable about his offer to ride alone with him. I wrote that a woman has to be very careful with her safety in this sort of situation. I apologized.

“Let’s turn the page then, and meet for lunch,” was his response and so we did.

The lunch went quite well. He was somewhat hard to understand with his thick Italian accent. He looked much better in real life, with his brown suede jacket, curly salt and pepper hair and even featured face. I liked his smile.

“I’ve hada three women in my life. And they all threw me under the bus, Adrienne. And then they want me back. What you think of that? I tell them ~  you threw me under the bus. I’m dead. Maybe that’s a why I talk to you like I did. I been a little harsh to you in that note. But see you come a back.”

“You were a little harsh. But I did realize that I was judging you just on fear. You are judging me on the past women in your life.”

“We have to let all that go, whatsa happened back then. Starta fresh,” he smiled and raised his spoon to his mouth and slurped.

I agreed. Outside was so white and grey. Puffs of white escaping from visitor’s mouths as they hunched over and walked briskly by the wooden walkway in front of the restaurant. So warm inside.

“It’sa nice a having a feminine woman like you sitting across from me,” he beamed.

I smiled.

We walked outside for a few minutes before parting. He leaned in for a kiss and I gave him a short peck and thanked him for the lunch.

I felt pleasantly surprised by my feelings and first impression of this man. I found him charming and very masculine. I liked the feeling of my arm linked to his and we walked along the boardwalk, admiring the fishing boats.

We agreed to meet the following day. He took me for dinner of my choice. I chose my favorite restaurant across from the Bay in my seaside town. We settled in across from each other right next to the gas fireplace. Warm.

Our conversation flowed and retreated like the tide.

“I’m getting some flake from my ad, Adrienne?” he spoke after sipping his scotch on the rocks.

“How so?” I thought about his ad where he mentioned fishing and there was a picture of him in a stream holding a rod and dressed in fishing gear.

“The second woman write to me and she say…. whatsamatter with you? What did the fish ever do to you? A innocent fish and you gotta kill them? So I think I going to change my name on the site to Pigeon Shooter. See how she gonna likea that!”

“No, change it to Pigeon Killer. Make no mistake, Frank. You killing them not shooting them.”

“That’s a good one. And I gonna write her back. I think she one of those vegetable people and so I gonna say~ You think you’re so better than me? You think that cabbage want to end upa in your soup pot?”

I found myself liking him and his quirky ways of speaking and thinking. And then he suddenly turned serious as he finished off his drink.

“Ahhh, Adrienne, I think I going to change myself over. No more sense of humor for me. Where did that get me? Two women throw me under the bus. Doesn’t work. But I’m thinking to be rough works. Look at you. I write a hard letter to you, the don’t waste your time with me letter and bang you write back and say let’s go to lunch. You change a your mind. See? It works. Women don’t like it Mr. Nice Guy. No, I gonna change myself over.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Frank. I like your sense of humor. I like in your profile how you wrote you want a woman who feels like a part of yourself. I loved that. ”

We sat quietly… a  train rumbled by outside. Thinking.

“Let me ask a you a question, Adrienne. I got two boys and a girl. When they were young the girl always want to be close to the younger brother. The younger brother hits her yells at her is just mean to her. What she gonna do? She keep going back. I tell her, go to the older brother he gonna love you. He so nice to you. Why you wanna go to the younger one. He only gonna hit you? I don’t understand. Know what she did, Adrienne?”

“No, tell me.”

“She keep a going back. She don’t leave him alone. She keep a going back and getting the punishment. I don’t understand that. How come? My thinking is? Women like it when a guy be bad to her. You be nice, they throw you under the bus. I gonna change my whole person. No more sense of humor guy.”

“You have a valid point, Frank. I can’t answer that.”

We lingered long after our meal was finished. We decided then to end the evening with a walk. The night air felt balmy after the cold blasts we’ve experienced. The tide was noisily rolling in, looking like rolls of velvet. We walked arm-in-arm. Being a week night there were few people around. We had the pier to ourselves.

The sound of our footsteps on the pier the only noise and then he corralled me to the wooden railing. His face pressed against mine and he forced his tongue into my mouth. I took my hands and pressed them on his chest holding him back. He took my right hand and pushed it downwards to the front of his slack. I pulled my hand away.

“What? You donna want to touch me?” he protested.

“No! I don’t want to.”

He let me go and we continued walking. I felt ambushed. He pushed me gently once again to the railing and this time tried to body search my frontal area. Again I pushed him away and told him to quit.

We continued on the rest of our walk and then settled into my car. He put his arms around me and began to rub the back of my neck.

“Let’s go to your place and I can give you a massage.”

“No, I don’t think so Frank. My roommate is there.”

“She gonna be in bed by now.”

“No she won’t and I don’t want to do that.”

“I didn’t know I was a gonna be with a virgin tonight!”

“Frank, this is date number two. What is it you expected?”

He didn’t answer and I started the car up and headed back to my place where his car was parked out in front.

He turned to me with a sheepish look on his face.

He didn’t have to say anything.

I wasn’t coming back for more and he knew it.

 

Keep Coming Back © 2011 Adrienne S Moody. Click Adrienne’s tag for more stories.

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