I recently penning a post entitled "The End of Dating". I was gonna throw in the towel.
A friend and successful author, after reading about my recent escapades, commented, "Charmaine, you must have nerves of steel."
She's right. I do.
If I can tussle with armed guards in Israel holding bayonets to my throat, I can handle another date.
On a subsequent date with "The King of Produce" I arrived at the restaurant where he was waiting atop a nearby tree to serenade me with a rendition of "Stand By Me".
After cajoling him out of the tree the doorman refused to allow us entry. He did not approve of people who disturb the peace. (My date has a baritone voice which...um...carries.)
Somehow "The King " and I convinced him to let us in.
There were young kids everywhere. I suggested to "The King" that we find an establishment where we might enjoy the company of adults.
In a perverse act of rebellion against this suggestion he lifted me under my bum, into the air, and demanded that I kiss him.
Several young men of the approximate age of twenty five (25) rushed in to make his acquaintance, shake his hand and congratulate him on his "spectacular moves".
His performance had nothing to do with me. In fact, I've never met a man less interested in me. He needs to be the star and he was. I was merely a vehicle.
Ladies and Gentlemen, Charmaine is nobodies vehicle.