Adventures in On-Line Dating II - Charles
My first eharmony dating experience was with Charles. I should never have met Charles, but he seemed nice over the phone. He was about 12 years older than I was, but after my commitment-phobic experiences with Michael, I was ready to meet this marriage-minded man. We agreed to meet at The Cheesecake Factory in Atlanta, GA. It was more of a drive for me, but I enjoyed meeting men on neutral territory, and there is little between Columbus and Atlanta.When I saw him, I was mortified. He was about 5'9" 200 lbs, and had more Grecian formula in his side-parted black hair than I'd ever seen in person. He was wearing grey polyester pants and black orthopedic-like lace-up dress shoes. His shirt was an 80's style oxford dress shirt that looked like he's had it since the 80's and a floral print tie. I looked like I had just shown up for dinner with my dad - only my dad is handsome, and looks younger than this guy did. I gave him a hug (after all, we had talked on the phone several times before) and we made our way into the restaurant. When our food came, he offered to say a blessing, which he did - it was nice, and I'm sure it was heard by all the surrounding tables. We tried to talk about things we had in common, but there was little. Come to find out, his biggest hobby and fascination was that he was a member of the Andy Griffith fan club. Oh boy.
After a "nice" lunch, I made the fateful mistake of keeping my deal to go with him to a park. (I should have faked food poisoning). And the biggest mistake I made was getting into HIS car. Yes, slap me now...I'm an idiot. His car had little in it, but the seat was absolutely covered with dog hair from his dog that he likes to take for rides - and I had on black pants. I was nice and laughed it off as he apologized for the dog hair. Once in the car, I saw the well under the radio - a can of spray mace. Oh dear God. I should have jumped then, but I didn't. We drove around and around the area until we found a park. We got out and found a picnic table, and we sat side-by side on the same side of the table. I tried to talk with him about his various past jobs and career moves, but I had never met a more boring person in my life. Then...
In one swift and smooth motion, Charles leaned down and grabbed my right foot and lifted it up so it was sitting on the park bench. He then quickly removed my shoe and placed it on top of the picnic table. (I was at this point, rather weirded out). He then runs his fingers along the underside of my foot and asks if I am ticklish. Well, anyone who knows anything about tickling knows that you are usually not ticklish unless you are in the mood to be tickled. And I was feeling nada. Then he removes my dress sock, and tries again. Still not ticklish he discovers. (I'm not saying much, mind you.) And then he tries the other foot, removing my shoe and dress sock and placing them on top of the picnic table. I am now nicely dressed, but barefoot with my shoes and socks on the picnic table, and my feet on the lap of a man who looks like a child molester. By this point, I had begun to feel panick. Remember, we had taken HIS car to the park. I had to be nice until I could make it back to my car which was parked all the way back at the restaurant. So, I did. I continued to try to make conversation while he rubbed and played with my feet. Periodically, he would ask if it felt good, or if I liked it - and when I didn't say much, he'd comment on how tough I was to get through. I started to pray for a way out.
Just then, a family came walking through the park with bags of food - looking for a place to eat. I jumped up, grabbed my shoes and socks, and cheerfully offered them the table we'd been sitting at. Charles looked discouraged, but not surprised. I pulled back on my socks and shoes and once again jumped into the dog-mobile and rode back to the restaurant. I wasted little time getting out of his car - and he asked me to keep in touch. Neither of us ever called or contacted the other again.
On the drive back home, I called my friend Carol to recount the miserable story. She laughed so hard she started choking, and she suddenly declared, "You had a date with a foot fettishist!"
"I did not!", I retorted. "How stupid are you?", Carol asked. "Oh man, I did. Eeeeeewwwwww. Aaaaaaahhhhhh." And we laughed and laughed.
I called my mom to tell her how the date went. I told her everything except the feet thing. I didn't want her to worry. And I didn't want her to feel guilty for not teaching me better.
It took me a while to get over that date. But it didn't keep me from trying...
(to be continued)
posted by No Longer In Crisis @ 7/19/2005 11:50:00 AM
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