Rerun

Sometimes it feels like I’ve gone out with every man in northeast Ohio. And I still haven’t found one worth hanging on to. Wait, maybe I HAVE gone out with every one.

Something seemed odd. Kind of familiar. My date looked a little like Drew  Carey. Maybe that was it. It was rather unsettling. And then I told a joke. And he laughed. And I remembered. It was HIM.

More than years ago I was out with this very same guy. Why, why why didn’t I go out with him again? Think.

And I remembered. He was nuts. It might have been PTSD since he was former army. Or that he quickly downed two very strong margaritas and then asked if I was going to finish mine. This was the guy who skipped on the way to my car after dinner. The one who had told me he liked to have his feet rubbed with Vaseline. The one who announced that he was going to fart.

Yes, indeed it was him. So I made an excuse to end the evening before he had the chance to order another drink.

I’m not sure which was more unsettling…that I hadn’t remembered him before we went out, or that he didn’t remember me once we did.

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