Woman on the Verge of Paradise Meets Celibacy Reason #103

 
Sign reads "May you find Paradise to be all its name implies."

Thanks for joining me on the verge of Paradise, as this chapter of my life unfolds. If you're new to Life by Chocolate, or just madly trying to catch up with your blog reading (Can we ever truly catch up?), this non-fictional story begins here. My last Paradise post is this one. While I strive for accuracy regarding place and time, I alter names as I see fit. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Just a nice gal seeking normalcy through partnership.” That’s me and the gist of my Internet dating ad. One might say this thinking’s twisted. I’m one, in fact.

Let's face it. We’re at our weirdest when it comes to dating. Hormones run interference with brain cells; the quest to meet one’s soul mate trumps any semblance of reason, self worth and dignity; and our insecurities spew forth like hints of another Schwarzenegger love child.

Thus, I was charged with excitement when Luis declared he too seeks a normal relationship. It was fate and the magical workings of match.com that brought us together two weeks ago.

I floated with girlie giddiness during and after date one. A chocolate chai tea freeze surely helped. Plus, he offered authentic reason for hope. Luis was gentlemanly, holding doors for me and paying for my drink; compassionate, tossing out sensitive uh huhs and mm hms when I spoke; and complimentary, declaring “I like you already” and “You look even better in person than in your photos.” After a brief hug I accepted a second date, this time for dinner. We’d made a special connection...until the next day.

**

“It’s kind of tricky to do dinner,” he reported by phone. “I have the kids. How about joining us for dinner sometime this week?”

Whoa. “I think it’s too early for that.”

Luis revised his offer to lunch sans kids. I accepted with plans for pointed inquisition.

“So are you always with your kids?” I asked between bites of a chicken burrito.

“Hmm, I never thought about it. Yeah, yeah, I guess I am, except when they're at school. Wow.”

“Well, how do you date, like in the evenings?”

“I hadn’t thought that far in advance.”

I was confused but the burrito was rather tasty. He paid for lunch and flattered (“You cleaned up real good.”). Plus, he’s Latin. In short, I’d see him again.

**

Lounging at Bidwell Park over a picnic lunch on date three, I found myself at the vortex of an avalanche of abnormalities.

“Women don’t know what they want,” he ranted. "The ex asked me to come by and fix her window. I got there and it wasn’t even broken…She doesn’t want me dating other people but she’s engaged to be married. I wonder if the guy knows we’re not even divorced.”

Not likely, dude. I didn’t know this. “Hold on, you aren’t divorced?”

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret. We’re almost divorced.”

“But your ad says you're divorced.” I shut-up about the fact that he’s deep in the trenches of a heated custody battle and thus rather selectively exploiting the term “almost.”

Moreover, more ramblings revealed more kids. “Yeah, my first wife and I had one, then a second, then a third unplanned pregnancy.” 

“Did you think to, say, use a condom?”

“She told me she was on the pill. That woman gets pregnant too easily.”

Interesting.

“It’s like this, Luis, I don’t want a dating relationship. This is all too messy.”

He took it really well –“That’s fine. I figured.” –then he emitted a tirade of defensiveness: “I thought you’d understand. I mean, you like kids. Parents can have dates over when the kids are home. What's wrong with that?...My life’s going to be normal as soon as the divorce goes through." He gave up after a while.

A thick silence filled the car en route home. It was a long one-mile drive, so I resorted to mundane blather.  “You’ll turn right three blocks up.”

“I know. I picked you up. Didn’t I?”

Smart ass.

A light bulb went off as we reached the house. “I guess I can’t date if I can’t date,” he acknowledged.

I mustered the cheer of Kelly Rippa in a tanning booth and wished him a good weekend, luck with the kids and custody battle and all. My perkiness was met with no response.

Alas, I was glad to come home alone, still single and celibate: just a nice gal seeking normalcy through partnership.