My Online Dating Experience: PlentyofFish.

So I was out by 6:30, freshly shaved and awash in Old Spice, (reminds me so of my Dad), I am on my way to your house. I’ve had the car details to get rid of all my road trip trash and old Burger King smells. I like the “New Car scent” the best. Something about the smell of fresh vinyl. Must be a subtle addiction to some cancerous sub-compound in the vinyl.

Coming down the street looking for your address I see an old stone house and the correct house number. Arriving at your door and I knock, checking to see how loud the door reverberates to judge if a knock is sufficient, then ring the bell if necessary. Waiting I listen for foot steps…Ah there, I hear heals and nylons… And there goes the door – ‘Hello – here I am?” You invite me in and I wait till you’re finishing dressing. A look around the room reveals an elegant lady with fine taste. Photos of children happy to pose for their mom. classic photos of Grandma and Granddad in their 50’s looking way. A nice sofa for guest, intimate talk and set in front of a nice fireplace stoked with wood awaiting a lit match…

You appear down the hall from your bedroom. Elegant and quaffed; hair well blown, immaculately dressed, impeccable and sleek, a cashmere top, my ears tinkle at the swish swish of your nylons. Opening the closet door, you offer your cashmere top and leather jacket to me. [Good thing my Mom taught me how to be a gentleman at moments like this. First the left arm then the right, then lift the coat onto your shoulders.] Now I smell your perfume and hairspray, remembrances of my mom when she dressed for Dad. [I think it’s called, Beyond Paradise.] As you hand me the jacket your fingers graze the back of your hand, the warmth of your skin felt good. You smile at me and receive willingly the jacket upon your soft shoulders.

Then you reach and open the door for me and we step onto the porch, the cool spring evening air has picked up the scent of the lilacs that grow close to the wrap around porch rail. The breeze makes the swing creak, and the kitten jumps off and scatters away. …………

Walking to the car I feel like a million dollars with you besides me. I am a lucky guy tonight. Opening the car door on the passenger side I am reminded how quaint and short the feminist mandate for “opening you own doors” lasted. Now returning to traditional rituals feels so good to me and my sense of romance. Sliding into my side of the car, I am reminded of your perfume by the enclosed space the front seat of the car makes. You overpower my vinyl sent with you warm body and perfume.

Per you request, we are going to the new restaurant in Fairport; an upscale Mexican with the best reported mole chicken in the state. I have heard the owner and her husband spend hours shopping and blending the ingredients then working with mortar and pestle to grind it into a thick creamy sauce one could die for. I drive slowly at first and carefully not to frighten you with boyish rubber burning, gear shifting, antics appropriate to a 19year old. Onto the freeway, switching from the business new to easy listening, I find Rod Stewart singing “The closeness of you”. One of my favorite romance tunes; though Johnny Mathis is my favorite and an Alumnus of my college………..

But I go put on a silk jacket that I had made in China. After all, I am not rude.

We get into your car, and I ask if I can change the music to hip hop or listen to the news on NPR. I used to listen to Johnny Mathis in high school, and also went through the Rod Stewart phase, but I really like modern music, too.

I love Mexican food, and I eat everything on my plate. I drink two glasses of red wine with it. I make you laugh. I tell you about my weird-ass life.