Contributed by: elevy2124 on Friday, July 08 2016 @ 08:08 am
Last modified on
I just turned 58-years-old and am still clicking on women’s faces appearing on OK Cupid, one of the most popular internet dating sites. No dates went beyond a few, but I have some great stories to tell. Here’s my favorite and most horrific which i call SCREENSAVER GIRL:
I took Screensaver Girl to a seafood restaurant in Sheepshead Bay. Our conversation was typical for a first OK Cupid date. A Q&A followed by the parts of our life stories that weren’t too revealing. We continued our conversation as we walked along the bay. Suddenly, she bent over the metal fence along the perimeter of the bay and regurgitated on the mother of a swan family.
Was it the calamari? That legendary squid? Who knows. All I knew was that Screensaver Girl turned the swan’s white head to dark green. After a few minutes, she raised herself back up. “I’m so sorry, Barry. I ruined a great evening.”
“Don’t sweat it. No problem.”
I knew what was coming. Screensaver Girl lived in Westchester, a two-hour trip by bus and two trains. One hell of a schlep.
“What am I going to do? I’ve got to lie down.”
Lie down where? In my disgusting basement motel room? Listening to the perpetual grinds of washing machines?
If I invited her there, what’s the chances of a second date? Ah….nil.
There was no alternative. “You could lie down in my room if you want.”
Room? Not an apartment. Not even a studio. A room!
“Oh, could I? You sure I’m not imposing?”
“No, not at all.”
We walked to the motel and stepped inside.
“Hey, Barry. You misunderstood me. I don’t want to go to a hotel with you.”
“No, no. This is where I live.”
She was totally baffled at this point.
“I work here. The owner gives me a room.”
“Oh, okay. I guess.”
We walked the steps down to the basement into my room.
“This is where you live?”
“Yea, I know it’s not very nice. You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.”
“How can you stand that washing machine noise?”
“You get used to it.”
“You can sleep with that?”
“Yea, not a great sleep, but yea, I get a few hours.”
A good solution would be if there was an available room upstairs she could stay in by herself, but I can’t take the chance. We often get a full house. Can’t put her there and then tell her she has to vacate. And she’s likely to find out about the Hos.
As she stood there, I could tell she didn’t know what to do.
“It’s only one night. I’ll stay.”
“You can have the bed.”
“No, I can’t do that. Thanks, but I don’t want to put you out like that.”
“Not at all. Please. I’ll be more comfortable if you take the bed.”
She looked at the fold-up twin bed with a plastic cushion and no box spring. “Okay. Thank you so much, Barry.”
After a game of Yahtzee, Screensaver Girl said her stomach was still hurting and wanted to go to bed. It was only eight-thirty.
“Yea, of course.” She was out in twenty minutes, despite the roar of the washing machine. I set up a blanket on the floor, read thirty or so pages of “Existentialism for Dummies,” fell asleep shortly after and had a dream I was Gregor Samsa metamorphosing into a giant insect.
When I woke up, I saw my laptop on a small wooden table that had been placed beside my makeshift bed. The screensaver is a photo of me! (She got it from OK Cupid). And get this—there’s a love song accompanying the visual of my full-screen face. She thought this was a romantic gesture, I guess, but it terrified me. I thought I was in the movie Basic Instinct! She looked at me lovingly, so proud of herself. I got out of bed and looked like a deer in a car’s headlights.
“Please, take that off,” I pleaded.
“What? What’s wrong?” she innocently asked.
Okay, now, this is too crazy. “You need to leave,” I told her.
With a puzzled look on her face, she approached the door and asked, “What, you’re not walking me to the bus?”
Whatever excuse I used, Screensaver Girl was gone, but not for long. She called me several times and I didn’t pick up. This wasn’t DIAL-A-PSYCHO. I’ve got to get that “blocking” feature on my phone. And block out the memory of Screensaver Girl.