First/Last Date

I met a man on match.com, then promptly proceeded to have the worst date ever.

Here's the story:

Terry was so handsome that I found myself slightly mesmorized; I immediately said yes when he offered to take me jetskiing and boating at his house on the river the very next day. We were having a drink on the patio of a restaurant, and by the end of the night, I felt comfortable enough with him to accept his offer. He was tall and had skin the color of tan olives; his neatly clipped hair was darker yet, and lush. We had talked into the night, comparing histories, explaining circumstances, regaling each other with tales of our most horrid dates, the ones you inevitably encounter when you meet people online.

He was striking, that one.

Oh, and he lived with his mother.

I knew that at the outset; it was one of the first things he'd told me. I could understand, I told him truthfully, that a divorce can be financially draining, and what with the terrible job market (he was a union tradesman and had been out of work for a few months, though he was starting a new job the coming Monday) and two children to support, it sometimes came down to that. Not a problem, I told him, not a problem at all. I mean, this was a temporary situation.

Wasn't it?

As our first evening together ended with plans for me to be at his house at 1:00 the next day, I took down the directions and went home, anticipating our day together on the water.

If you know anything about me at all, you know that I do not judge you based on your house, your car, what kind of stuff you own. Still, when I turned onto his block and saw the mansions sitting there, my heart did skip a little, tiny beat. Then, when I realized that the address I was looking for didn't exist on that block, I knew that I'd made a wrong turn. Oh well.

When I finally made the right turn, I pulled up in front of a house that could have nestled comfortably in my own family room. That in itself, was okay, but I wondered how it was working out for a grown man, living with his mother under that small, little, teeeeeny tiny roof. He came out to greet me and we talked outside for a while. Then, as he led me toward the front door, he said the words that no one wants to hear:

"Excuse the house."

Uh oh.

Must I excuse the house? Am I obligated to excuse the house? I'm not sure, since it was possibly the ugliest, crappiest, most shoddy living quarters I had ever been in. The wall surrounding the fireplace was actually linoleum! And ugly linoleum, at that!

The furniture dipped in the middle, and what didn't dip looked too ominous to sit upon. The flamingo-colored kitchen counters were filled with every conceivable piece of crap that would fit - deformed and discolored Tupperware cannisters, warped Teflon pans bound by sticky stuff that was surely there to stay, various and sundry crumbs and morsels. The living room/dining room was surrounded by closed doors - behind them were a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom. And who, but this man's mother, was sitting at the dining room table, smack dab in the middle of the whole pathetic mess, watching Lifetime Television.

She smiled at me in greeting, then immediately advised me to apply sunscreen, and maybe some bug spray, too. She herself, didn't go out on the water; it scared her. She had been living on the river for 45 years or so, and had always been afraid of it. Okay...?

She was the nervous, smiley sort. She told me all about the movie she was watching, something about a mom killing her daughter's cheerleader rival, and I stood before her smiling, nodding, and and trying desperately not to gape at the place. At her. I know this is mean, but she reminded me so much of one of the Wizard of Oz munchkins. Or an Oompah Loompah. Really - she really, really did. I figured Terry must have gotten his looks from his late father. Or a cousin. Or the mailman.

He took me out on the water. The day was cloudy, but warm, the water easily giving way to the jet ski. At first I was shy about holding onto Terry, but as we zipped along the river, I knew that I was going to have no choice, so I bravely wrapped my arms around his waist and held on tight. We zipped up and down the river, his toned abs tightening with each burst of speed. I could overlook a terrible house and bizarre little mother, couldn't I?

We took a break and visited with the neighbors. It was a close, friendly little neighborhood, as water-towns are wont to be, with people riding to and from each other's houses on golf carts, that even the kids got to drive. It was cheerful with a vacation-like atmosphere, even though most of the people lived there year-round. We touched base at his house so I could use the bathroom (do I even need to tell you how disgusting it was?) and I got the synopsis of the Lifetime movie that was on after the cheerleading one, plus, some unsolicited information about Terry's childhood.

Out on the water again and cruising slowly on his relatively quiet pontoon boat, we were able to really talk. I asked Terry what his plans were, going forward. Just curious...did he have any plans to move out any time soon?

Oh, no, he said. I'm going to be here for a while.

Really?

Yes. It's easier this way. But who knows? Maybe I'll meet a woman and move in with her.

Mm hmm. I see. [Get me off this boat and into my car right this very minute!]

Boating over, we went to his (mother's) house for dinner. I wanted to leave really badly by that point, but I knew that doing so would make me appear shallow and bitch-like. I am neither, but I just wanted out of a place that I knew I would never, EVER return to. The woman gave me the creeps, the man was a sponge, and being in that house made my skin crawl. And now I was going to have to eat there.

Terry pulled some salmon out of the freezer, along with some bags of vegetables. He threw the fish on the grill and the veggies in the microwave, while his motherl, not liking salmon, opened cans of tuna, mixed it up in a bowl, and spread it on soft white bread. I had brought a cake for a dessert, and now knew that it was going to be the safest thing to eat in that place, because it wasn't made there. A plate of salmon and bags of vegetables on the table later, the three of us sat down to eat.

Terry's cell phone rang in the middle of dinner and he not only answered it, he actually got up from the table and went outside to talk, even closing the door completely behind him. Really? You did that? His mother tried hard, I'll give her that, but she was so awkward, that conversation was really pointless. I ate fast and waited for Terry to return so I could give him dirty looks and let him know that I was going to make my escape.

Finally, mercifully, I was able to do just that.

And the next time he called was the last.

Yo momma, Terry. Yo momma.