Bad Date #2 What Is A Deuce?

Websters Dictionary defines a Deuce as:
1 a (1): the face of a die that bears two spots
(2): a playing card bearing an index number two b: a throw of the dice yielding two points2: a tie in tennis after each side has scored 40 requiring two consecutive points by one side to win
(3) [obsolete English deuce bad luck] a: devil , dickens —used chiefly as a mild oath b: something notable of its kind

What transpired in 2008 during a fall day was more of a quandry...not a deuce. Although a deuce was involved, it was not used in its literal sense...or any webster sense.

BAD DATE #2 DEUCE BIGALOW

I should have been tipped off that a blind date was not the key to finding true love, after Bad Date #1. You know the old saying about first time shame on you, second time shame on me. Perhaps it is my hope that true love does exist, or perhaps my confidence in humanity that a second try couldnt hurt...but rather, Bad Date #2 led me to the realization that blind dates are intended for the blind...and are not a deuce (being used as websters definition "something notable of its kind").

A friend of a friend of a friend of a friend said there was this guy I just HAD to meet. Liz, the mother of three beautiful boys and a woman with an amazing husband,spoke of this guy she worked with. She was fair. Told me she didnt know that much about him, but he was smart, handsome, personable so how bad could it be. I shared my story about Bad Date #1, sharing how that blind date didnt go so well, but, we both agreed it would be worth a shot....maybe it could even be a deuce.

Fastforward to the evening of the first date. I again, arrange to meet my blind date at my specific location feeling safe with the protection of my bartender friend. I arrive 15 minutes early this time. Thinking to myself...I can always disguise who I am an not admit Im me. Not that I would really do that, you know, pretend Im not me if I am meeting someone. But the thought that I could if I was desperate was comforting.

I dressed casually. Dark jeans, black top, black heels, simple pearls. Decided to wear my hair up so I looked cute...and not sultry. Took it easy on the makeup and gloss, spritzed on some herbal spray and headed out the door.

Although I was very much looking forward to my date, I was even more looking forward to a new plate I read a review about. They were pairing a tilapia with an almond coating and pan searing it! Yum! I think I was more excited to try that fish than I was about my date.

I arrived at the restaurant, took a seat at the bar, caught up with my bartender friend, ordered a glass of noir.

Enter through the door, my date.

A handsome man, tall, well built, nice smile...cut off khaki shorts, black socks and tevos. A real "Sex in the City" fashion moment for this guy. I chuckled inside...and thought to myself..."A pair of nice jeans and a button down wouldn't have killed you would it"? But being that I grew up with two brothers, I did not shame him for his lackluster appearance. I kept an open mind.

We had a drink, were seated, ordered our meal and started casual conversation. He was nice enough, kind in talking about people. Not very worldly though. He ordered a beer and then quickly ordered another and then another and then another. He was 6 beers in before the entrees arrived. He munched on his bread as if it was his last meal before being sentenced to death. As the beer went down, his confidence grew, and his true character was shown.

Now, please understand before I begin to give you the particulars, that its not that I am judging these people for their life decisions or mistakes...mind you, I have made several bad decisions myself and would never judge.

My beef is...when did it become okay to divulge so much in such a short period of time. I mean, isn't the fun of dating slowly getting to know someone? To develop their trust and confidence and then share? Why so much in such a little period of time? Can you really get to know someone when they fastforward through their entire lives? I mean...20 or 30 years into your life, youve got a lot of shit to share! And quite frankly, I dont want to hear all it until we've decided to get to know each other a little better. First dates are reserved for showing someone you are socially aware and capable.

Anyways...I digress.

After 6 beers he began to feel all warm and fuzzy and I learned about his previous marriage, which oh by the way feel apart because he did not manage his money well, and his dog which Im pretty sure he is in love with. I thought to myself...perhaps that half a million dollar house, Porsche, boat and four wheeler you were bragging about were not a good idea...and oh also, by the way....I am not cool with letting your dog hump your leg because he needs a little lovins too.

What? I find myself asking that a lot. What?

It went on and on and on and I can only wonder why we was so oblivious not to pick up on the look of horror that I had on my face. Yeah...he's definitely receptive and will pick up on my needs.

After I said a few million..."uh huh's"..."oh my's"...and "are you serious's"...dinner arrived.

Alas, my great escape of tilapia rolled in almonds has arrived. Ill just tune him out , eat up, enjoy and get the hell out of here.

Just as the entrees arrived...my date sat back, made a loud grunting noise, and put his hand on his belly. I dropped my fork and knive, raised my eyebrows and began to get up and said, "Are you alright?". He was so dramatic I really thought I was going to have a bad situation on my hands.

His response..."I've got to go drop a deuce!".

What?

Webster failed to mention a "deuce", could mean shit. As in..."Dropping a deuce" meaning "Taking a shit". And here all along I thought that "Dropping the kids off at the swimming pool" was the politically correct way of expressing that urge.

I never did get to try that tilapia....