In a previous post, I mentioned my migration from Match.com to Plenty of Fish (POF). The transition seemed logical since more fish were swimming in the sea of frugality. Nevertheless, I discovered free isn't always better.
You Give Me Fever - Jungle Fever!
Picture from IMDB.com
I'm not a huge fan of pick up lines...neither giving nor receiving. Over the weekend, I got a winner though. I was out on the town celebrating my birthday with a few friends (at Taylor's of course). We were standing against the bar, playing the role of happy little wallflowers when a gentleman approached me and said, "Has a white guy ever looked at you and told you 'I think I have jungle fever'?" Perhaps it was the drinks, or the atmosphere or maybe even my little black and white dress that prompted my suitor's bold advance. Tact might not have been his strong suit, but originality was!
Jungle Fever wasn't the only bug going around Taylor's that night. Wearing a white three-piece disco suit, another gentleman clearly caught a case of Saturday Night Fever. My friends spotted him at the edge of the dance floor staring at me. His intense looks made us wonder if his interest was genuine or if admiring me was only a cover for the C4 he had planted in the bathroom. Either way, we all made it out alive and disco dude eventually got the hint.
From Le Louvre to Love
Picture from travel-junkies.com
My mother traveled to Paris about 12 years ago. When she returned, she gushed over the landmarks, food and
culture she experienced during her visit. She briefly mentioned
Pasquale, a taxi driver who took a liking to her and my godmother. He offered to drive them around the city for the duration of their trip, and that was that. Or at least that's what she thought.
Perhaps something got lost in translation between mother and her seemingly chivalrous chauffeur because two months later, we received an unexpected phone call from Pasquale. He was at JFK asking for her address. He had flown all the way to the United States to find her! Unfortunately, we live about six hours away from NYC. Many people believe that NYC is the only part of New York, but that couldn't be further from the truth.
In any event, the airport employees were extremely helpful, putting him on a plane which brought him to the appropriate destination. Even back then, the hopeless romantic in me shined through. All of those damn fairy tales and romantic comedies were damaging my brain cells. My mother was a lot more balanced about the situation, though. She wasn't interested in starting a relationship, but believed she was obligated to be hospitable - especially for someone who traveled across an ocean to surprise her.
At the time, our household consisted of my mother, brother, adult cousin and myself. My uncle lived around the corner and visited daily while Pasquale stayed with us. We had more than enough room to accommodate an extra guest, so that was what we decided to do. Normal people might have been weary of a complete stranger staying with them. We, on the other hand, were ready at a moment's notice to take him out if he got froggy (see what I did there). I imagined a tall, dark, handsome gentleman to appear on our doorstep ready to whisk mother off of her feet. What I got was a short, stout, not-so-attractive man who expected 24/7 service from the women of the house.
For two weeks, he constantly made demands and expected that we would wait on him hand and foot. Furthermore, he had no qualms about describing the differences between French and American women. This came to a head when he pointed at my mother and aunt shouting, "Grande, grande". Needless to say, he had worn out his welcome well before his departure. The worst part? Eventually we uncovered the real reason for his surprise visit. Apparently, he was pretending to be French. He was originally from Angola and facing deportation from France. He wanted to woo my mother into helping him become a US citizen.
Somehow I had forgotten about Pasquale and his shenanigans until my mother mentioned it to me the other day. It helped to give me some perspective. You see, there are times when I think that my geographic location is the reason why I have had such bad luck with dating. While this might still be a factor, Pasquale was living proof that frogs exist EVERYWHERE.
