It had been 28 years since we broke up. Not one word had been spoken to each other during those 10,220 days. No, I wasn’t counting, but my flip phone did have a calculator on it! I had signed up on a new website called Facebook. Then along came that random message directed to me. It always happens on Facebook, doesn’t it? The message was brief but was powerful just the same. There were five little words in that instant message that rocked my world.
“Hey Stranger, do you remember me?”
Oh, wait…that is six words. Ok, that doesn’t really matter how many words it was because I couldn’t believe what I was reading anyway. I didn’t know what type of message to respond back with. Do I go with a flippant funny message, ” I remember getting it on with someone in the freezers at Baskin- Robbins, but I don’t remember you at all.” Or do I pile on the bravado and pretend I have had so many sexual conquests that I couldn’t possibly remember her? I opted to be the funny man. My message back to her was, “Of course I remember you. I have frostbite scars that keep reminding me. How could I forget you?”
It was *Missy. My very first high school crush. My very first real kiss. My very first prom date. My very slow dance partner. My very first couples only skating partner at Pattison’s Roller Rink. My very first….oh, never mind. We not only shared homeroom and geometry, we also shared working at Baskin-Robbins together. I was the Jamocha Joker and Missy was, The Pralines Princess. Oh, we were just two super scooping high school kids who fell in love. It was all innocent fun back then.
Over the next few weeks, we sent several stone tablet messages back and forth since this way before Al Gore invented the interweb. It was fun catching up on each other’s lives. I learned she was a widow raising a teenage daughter named Hannah. Oddly enough, we both now lived back in the same city, our old hometown. We spent hours chatting on Facebook. Suddenly, right there on a social networking site we were flirting like two 16-year-old school kids. We even threw in a few LOL’s and OMG’s into our messages in case someone from Facebook was reading our messages. We didn’t want to creep them out that with the reality that it was two mid-forty year-olds getting their mojo on by sending instant messages back and forth. Is that what sexting is all about? Did I sexted someone??
After about a month, we decided to take the plunge. Missy and I decided to meet face-to-face. We tried to find a neutral friendly location for our first date in 28 years. We ruled out Baskin Robbins because there was too much history in those freezers. We agreed to meet at Applebee’s, we heard it was where the neighborhood gathers!
I’m a bit of a nerd about things like this, so I was a full hour early. I wanted to get a corner booth with an easy straight shot out the side door in case Missy walked in and I wanted to walk out. I was pretty sure that would not happen, but after all it had now been 10, 250 days since I last saw her. I was sweating like A politician would sweat during a polygraph test. I nursed 3 large Diet Cokes and was just waiting to order my riblets and french fries. I had memorized the menu so I would not say something stupid like, “I would like the Fa-gee-ta’s...” while trying to order Fajitas. #Awkward.
My Applebee’s waitress Lisa was told what was going on. I had her on pins and needles with me. We were just waiting for the, “big reveal” as they call it on all of the reality makeover shows. I was pretty sure that if it was a bust with Missy, I could have had Lisa as a fallback date if I wanted to wait 5 hours until her shift ended. I think Lisa really liked me. Or she was being super friendly so I would give her a super big tip. I never fully trust a waitress. Ok, I know it’s really the tip thingy, but I am just feeding my super ego here.
After a few false alarms, in walks Missy. My heart skipped a beat. I could feel my pulse rate climbing. My skin was turning clammy and cold. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was Missy, but I didn’t see my old high school ice cream scooping pal Missy. I didn’t see my prom date Missy or my first kiss Missy. I wasn’t looking at someone I wanted to haul off to the freezer with. .. because I was looking at Missy’s Mom. Oh, it was really Missy alright, but now, 28 years later she was a spitting image of what I remembered her mom looking like, back when Missy and I were dating. And that really creeped me out.
Not that I ever need it, but there isn’t enough Viagra in the world that could erase the image of Missy’s mom’s from my mind now. It was a game changer. We had a pleasant dinner and I did get my riblets and fries, but that is where the date really ended. She wanted a longer date, I didn’t. When Missy asked me what was wrong, I said, I’m sorry Missy, but you remind me of your Mom and I didn’t want to date your Mom.
The next day Missy unfriended me on Facebook.
Moral of the story: Never ever tell a girl that she reminds you of her mom – just sayin’
Have a great day!
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P.S. *On the advice of legal counsel the name has been changed to protect the innocent. No ex-girlfriends were harmed during the writing of this blog.