BEST DATE EVER no number necessary because this was one of a kind

  The funny thing is that this was a set up by my ex-friend Dot.  Quite a number of years before our fallout. No person is just one dimensional.  There are the good parts and the bad. Sometimes we can see the imbalance and the good is heavier and accounts for more. And then the scales can change.
 If we can only see one or the other,  we may have a problem.  There is a psychological term for it. It's called splitting. It's as if you can't integrate the both parts into one person, so you see them either all good or all bad. Infatuation does this. When it wears off, you should have a balanced view. If you don't, you and/or your partner will have a rocky road. And not of the Baskin Robbins variety.


BACK TO THE STORY WHICH I DIDN'T ACTUALLY BEGIN YET.

 I think I was around 24. I was living in a studio apartment in Park Slope, Brooklyn. I was working for a dress manufacturer. Dot had given my number to a guy named Fred who lived in my neighborhood.  He was some type of salesman so he traveled around the country frequently. That made getting together a challenge.




I had spoken to him on the phone once and we had a nice conversation but that was it. Okay. That's the way it goes. No big loss. It was nice of Dot to think of me.

This happened a long time back. Maybe a dozen or so years before we had our falling out. We had actually been close. And my mom was too.  Dot had worked with my mom for a year of so when she was out of high school. At 17 she made friends with my mom. Looking at it today, it may have been a sort of replacement of my sister. And Dot's mom was old and Dot being the youngest was saddled with her when her dad died. Families. Families. They make us and break us.


Dot was Italian and had a big family, although they were scattered here and there. Over the years we got to know most of them When there was room at the table, she would invite me and my mom for Christmas dinner and it was always a festive, happy, food and wine fueled occasion.

The year I'm remembering, obviously, we got the call. This is where my memory blurs, but I don't think it will really matter.

I picked up my mom and we drove to Bay Ridge. We were lucky and found a parking spot not too far away. We walked to the building and were greeted in the small apartment by Dot, her mom, a niece or nephew or two. I don't think she had been married and divorced with her baby yet, but if she were, it wouldn't make a difference in the tale.
 She was the baby of her family so her siblings kids were closer to her age than her sibs were to her. That's a reason I can't remember who was who.(at least not now. Then, I knew)  It was warm and crowded and I remember that nice feeling of family. We started drinking and nibbling the antipasto and chatting around.

Some time later, another person showed up. His was introduced as  Renaldo and he was Italian. Short, dark and handsome. And tres chic. I asked Dot what his story was and he was visiting the family bla bla bla. Okay. That's nice.

Renaldo and I  spent most of the evening drinking, eating and chatting. He had a wonderful accent and I was able to understand him, no problem. We got a long really well. Of course we did. He didn't live in America, so why wouldn't we?

It got late, so my mom and I left. I'm sure I would have liked to stay, but what was the point? When we did go out the door, Renaldo kissed my hand. I know. Totally cliché, but at 24, it was quite nice.(at 66 it'd still be nice, maybe. now I'm not so sure. humbug!) He had taken my number but what good would it do? Remember, we girls wanted relationships not one night stands. Or anything long distance.

Hell, back then if you met a person in Manhattan, and you lived in Brooklyn and he lived in Queens, you were considered GU..  Geographically Undesirable.  Ha on all you young people who think you invented initials.

After a few days, I got a call from Renaldo. I'm happy, but sad. We're talking and he suddenly starts to laugh. Big laughing. At what, I am clueless. Suddenly he blurts out, "it's me, Fred".  No accent. Shock. I'm trying to grasp what's going on. I actually had to ask because I was so flummoxed.


He told me that he and Dot decided that we should meet, but not on a blind date. Instead. since he was good with accents, he'd meet me under false pretenses and see if we clicked. It really was clever.

You may have put it together because if I didn't mention Fred before, it'd be like watching a mystery show and the perp is not someone they've shown or mentioned and you're like, "where the fuck did this come from?  How could they do that?"  I would be especially pissed because I want to figure it out.

Fred, was actually an Egyptian Jew, which may have been one of the reasons he was quite good with accents. I think he spoke three languages.
We dated for a while, but as for why we stopped seeing each other, I have no recollection. I probably wasn't ready for a relationship even though I thought I was.
I certainly wasn't ready for the good ones yet.

THEORY

Why is it bad to have expectations?  Because you create a mindset and set yourself up for disappointment.
Should you have expectations?  Yes, but keep them reasonable and realistic.
But never, ever give up. There's always hope.