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50 Cent is Being Celebrated for His Aversion to Marriage. Women Should Have the Same Privilege.
Shame, secrecy, and threats of singledom from a beautiful man illegally sharing drinks and far more experienced is sitting across from me. This is a recipe for disaster.
Joe’s Crab Shack was the decided meeting place for a date with an athlete I’d been having flirty conversations with for quite some time. We first met at a sports event. I’d been living in Southern California for three months, and we’d started having lengthy phone calls about all the California adventures to be had.
He strolled in twenty minutes late, a fashionably late 32-year-old dreamboat in my naive 20-year-old eyes. His red flags were waving so high, I wouldn’t doubt that people could see them in the sky from my Louisiana hometown. I was silly enough to have stars in my eyes, daydreaming about the possibilities of a relationship. But I was smart enough (or so I thought) to keep him a secret, knowing that no one close to me would approve of us dating.
The date was similar to our phone calls. Him doing most of the talking, me doing most of the agreeing. The only difference was the mason jars of alcohol that he would order and slide my way since I wasn’t of legal drinking age. Instead of recognizing how problematic this was, I felt special. I couldn’t articulate why, and I couldn’t ask anyone about the dynamics of my secret rendezvous. Sometimes, feeling special also comes with feeling guilty and ashamed — even when you can’t articulate the source of your shame.
Disaster strikes when he opens his leather wallet to pay for our dinner. The bill was $83.14. I remember this total for specific reasons. He laid ten $100 bills on the table and said he was searching for $20 bills to “not have to break the hundreds.” He was showing off, and I was immediately turned off with good reason. After he silently put his cash back into his wallet, he asked the thousand dollar question.
“Are you coming home with me?”
“No. Showing me money isn’t going to make me go home with you, even if you gave it to me.”
I said it so matter-of-factly, surprising myself, but with no regrets about my tone. My sweet girlishness had disappeared. I was pissed. Pissed because I thought…
