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There are dates, and there are prunes...
Feb. 6th, 2004 11:19 pm( Girly TMI - Consider yourself warned )
The Baltimore Convention Center was pretty dead when we got to the auto show, which suited me just fine. I made a quick pit stop, so to speak, after which I noted that the stamp on my hand was nearly gone from just one handwashing. "Well," he laughed, "try not to wash your hands again if you want to go upstairs," where some of the more expensive cars were hiding.
To his credit he did ask when we got there what I wanted to see. I had nothing specific in mind and just wanted to browse. So we browsed the pickup trucks and SUV's ... neither of which I particularly wanted to see but for Hummer's H1. He did wait tolerantly while I sat in a couple of sports cars, checked out the trunk space in a sedan or two, and glanced at one of the concept cars, but mostly, we looked at his idea of luxury. More than once, he sat me behind the wheel of some ungodly big machine* and asked, "Can you see yourself driving this?"
In the course of all this, he mentioned that his pastor had one of the SUV's we looked at, saying that he'd needed the bigger vehicle for his big family. "He has three kids."
Now, I was raised Mormon**. I grew up next-door to a non-Mormon family that had seven kids when we moved in and now has ten, I think. I know big families, and to me, three kids do not a big family make. The thing is, I do want a big family*** someday. (Yes, I'm weird. Shut up. ;p ) It was something of a bone of contention between my ex and me; after compromising before we were married on the number of children we wanted, it turned out he still planned to "cut me off" at three. And this guy thinks three is big?
Did I mention that, after all his warnings to me to bring my own lunch and drink, he didn't bring one of his own? Nor did he offer me space in his backpack, where he stowed his own jacket. I was lugging my purse, my lunch, 32 oz. of water and my fuzzy coat which, though very warm, is a big, bulky pain. Since he hadn't suggested that I just leave my lunch in his Jeep -- and he did know from the moment I got in his car that I'd brought my lunch -- I figured he'd be shelling out another $20 for his lunch.
He didn't. We walked past three or four cafeterias, and he didn't so much as pause.
My back hurt. My head ached, and with my migraine came the typical nausea and photosensitivity. I was not a happy camper.
Then, strolling through Ford, someone asked their interactive robot the time. 1:11.
I had a 2:00 curfew; Dad had things places to go and people to see. My date knew that as of the discussion we had the night things blew up with my parents. We talked about it on the way to the show. He also knew that I'd forgotten my watch.
And, I reminded him, we still needed to go to Nissan and pick up a brochure for his mom. Oy. So we did. And he drooled over his Armada. Then we left.
... And waited in the freezing cold and bitter wind for half an hour for a LightRail train that was going as far as our stop.
My mom called his cell phone at 2:30, demanding to know where I was. We were in the car on his crazy back roads back to the mall.
And that was it. We said goodbye, I sped home, apologized profusely, and ate my lunch at 4-freaking-o'clock.
*I'm sure Freud would have something to say about this. I'm trying not to think about it.
**Abandoned my faith in my teens; physically left as soon as I was out of my parents' house.
***Yes, I know that I would have to surrender to a bigger vehicle eventually. I see no reason to rush the inevitable.
The Baltimore Convention Center was pretty dead when we got to the auto show, which suited me just fine. I made a quick pit stop, so to speak, after which I noted that the stamp on my hand was nearly gone from just one handwashing. "Well," he laughed, "try not to wash your hands again if you want to go upstairs," where some of the more expensive cars were hiding.
To his credit he did ask when we got there what I wanted to see. I had nothing specific in mind and just wanted to browse. So we browsed the pickup trucks and SUV's ... neither of which I particularly wanted to see but for Hummer's H1. He did wait tolerantly while I sat in a couple of sports cars, checked out the trunk space in a sedan or two, and glanced at one of the concept cars, but mostly, we looked at his idea of luxury. More than once, he sat me behind the wheel of some ungodly big machine* and asked, "Can you see yourself driving this?"
In the course of all this, he mentioned that his pastor had one of the SUV's we looked at, saying that he'd needed the bigger vehicle for his big family. "He has three kids."
Now, I was raised Mormon**. I grew up next-door to a non-Mormon family that had seven kids when we moved in and now has ten, I think. I know big families, and to me, three kids do not a big family make. The thing is, I do want a big family*** someday. (Yes, I'm weird. Shut up. ;p ) It was something of a bone of contention between my ex and me; after compromising before we were married on the number of children we wanted, it turned out he still planned to "cut me off" at three. And this guy thinks three is big?
Did I mention that, after all his warnings to me to bring my own lunch and drink, he didn't bring one of his own? Nor did he offer me space in his backpack, where he stowed his own jacket. I was lugging my purse, my lunch, 32 oz. of water and my fuzzy coat which, though very warm, is a big, bulky pain. Since he hadn't suggested that I just leave my lunch in his Jeep -- and he did know from the moment I got in his car that I'd brought my lunch -- I figured he'd be shelling out another $20 for his lunch.
He didn't. We walked past three or four cafeterias, and he didn't so much as pause.
My back hurt. My head ached, and with my migraine came the typical nausea and photosensitivity. I was not a happy camper.
Then, strolling through Ford, someone asked their interactive robot the time. 1:11.
I had a 2:00 curfew; Dad had things places to go and people to see. My date knew that as of the discussion we had the night things blew up with my parents. We talked about it on the way to the show. He also knew that I'd forgotten my watch.
And, I reminded him, we still needed to go to Nissan and pick up a brochure for his mom. Oy. So we did. And he drooled over his Armada. Then we left.
... And waited in the freezing cold and bitter wind for half an hour for a LightRail train that was going as far as our stop.
My mom called his cell phone at 2:30, demanding to know where I was. We were in the car on his crazy back roads back to the mall.
And that was it. We said goodbye, I sped home, apologized profusely, and ate my lunch at 4-freaking-o'clock.
*I'm sure Freud would have something to say about this. I'm trying not to think about it.
**Abandoned my faith in my teens; physically left as soon as I was out of my parents' house.
***Yes, I know that I would have to surrender to a bigger vehicle eventually. I see no reason to rush the inevitable.
