On Why I Choose Celibacy, Reason #44, The Boozer

   

We were panting and sweating during the initial encounter. Actually, he made it look effortless. I, on the other hand, was hard at work. I couldn't keep going for more than 20 or 30 minutes. Those elliptical machines are tough! In parallel fashion with a hottie, though, I was on fire.

"I'm Robyn, by the way," I said between breaths.

"I'm Basil."

Basil? I pondered. Who's named Basil? His parents must've liked natural herbs. But he was cute, in an intellectual Clark Kent kind of way. It could be worse. I could be lusting after a Paprika. I pressed on for 40 charged minutes this time.

By the third workout, Basil asked me out. I immediately agreed, attempting to hide my excitement beneath my panting, heavy breathing, and constant flow of perspiration. Basil would be my first, my first date since marital breakdown. He would leave an impression for other reasons, though.

"Meet me at Cali's Pub 'N Grub. I've started a tab." He texted. I was on my way, and my panting ceased upon reading the message. I'm no drinker. Still, the guy was cute, and a good 10 years younger. Thoughts of cougardom propelled me to the Pub 'N Grub in a flash.

We enjoyed a nice meal, during which I watched him polish off three beers. Focused, instead, on his biceps, I took a few sips of my rum and coke. Good thing the theatre was just across the street, since I'm a lightweight. [Perhaps I should not admit that, but I trust you won't go public with this information. Wink.]

Basil started at the snack line. "Really?? You don't drink coffee??" He pierced me with a look of horror. I never shocked a date like that before. There must be something to the booze-coffee combo that I'm not hip to. Things stabilized when he added Junior Mints and Whoppers to the mix. He did share those during the movie. Or did I help myself? I don't remember. The point is, I got some chocolate. The night wasn't a total loss.

The movie was great too. Sean Penn was phenomenal as Harvey Milk. It's a must-see. Basil, not so much. The dude didn't make a move during the movie, except to grab his coffee and motion for the few pieces of chocolate that I hadn't devoured.   

We strolled afterward, as he expelled stories of intoxication (his). There were parties, and a time when he got lost because he had too much to drink, and so on.

Naturally, we needed to stop for frozen yogurt. At the counter, he mentioned something about alcohol. A woman of couthe and refinement, I blurted out, "Are you an alcoholic?"

"No," he immediately defended. "I drink the average, 3-5 drinks per week. Or is that per day?...Just with dinner, and, wait, there's lunchtime drinks too.." He stalled while silently calculating, then abruptly excused himself to add rainbow sprinkles to his yogurt.

Basil proceeded to end the date as expeditiously as possible. He practically sprinted upon seeing me off. In fact, he didn't exactly see me to my car. It was perhaps within bird's eye view, had he used a supersonic telescope. He stood a football field away to declare, "Well, I'll see ya when I see ya."

Three days later, Basil was on the elliptical machine when I entered the gym. This time, I chose the treadmill across the way, with my backside facing him. In my black tights and cropped T-shirt, I gave the guy a view of what he was missing - were he sober enough to see it.

I never saw him again. I'm guessing he's working up a tab right now. After all, it's 5pm or 8am or 12 noon somewhere.