Pear shaped

Ages ago, before losing half of me taking Metabolife, my friend fixed me up with one of her coworkers. He called several times in the course of a couple of weeks and even offered to bring me some Nyquil and chicken noodle soup when I caught the flu. I thought to myself, I've got to meet this guy! He's so thoughtful!

Over the course of our few dates, I had to reevaluate my impression of him. For instance, he took me to eat at a trendy pasta bar (overpriced "gourmet" pasta served on disposable plates), promising me a surprise afterwards. We drove in circles for the better part of an hour. I kept asking, "Where are we going?"

Chuck kept answering, "It's a surprise."

"If you don't tell me where we're going, I can't help you find it." (Those of you who know me see the humor in this statement. I am the reason GPS locators are now available for the average vehicle. I can't find my way out of a paper bag with a map. I have absolutely no sense of direction. In fact, if you ever ask me for directions, do the opposite of whatever I suggest, and you should get there just fine. ) Chuck however, not having experienced the joy of Lost with Trisa, finally broke down and told me our destination was the water wall at Transco Tower.

My jaw dropped open, which I got to see reflected in the darkened window. We'd been driving circles around the damned Transco Tower. It is, in fact, the tallest building in Houston, one that I can reliably navigate by. And, as luck would have it, I'd seen the water wall on a school field trip. "We've been driving around Transco Tower all night," I told him.

"Yeah, but I can't find the park."

"It's at the base of Transco Tower," I answered exasperated. How could I be out with someone who can't even find Transco Tower? (Admittedly, I didn't have many standards at the time and would go out with just about anyone that asked, but damn, even I can find Transco Tower.)

Finally Chuck steered the car towards the building and like magic, we found Transco Park and the water wall. We got out and walked around for a bit. I'd never seen the water wall lit up at night; it is quite pretty and the sound of the rushing water totally blocks out the sounds of the city.

After a few minutes, maybe 5 or 10, Chuck just stood off to the side. "What's the matter?" I asked.

"I'm feeling sick," he answered.

Uh-oh. I instantly went into teacher/nurse mode. Where does it hurt? Do you have fever? Etc.

"It's just the sauce on the pasta. I get sick whenever I eat cream sauce."

"Then why'd you order it?!"

Instead of the semi-romantic visit to the water wall being followed up with a movie, as was the plan, Chuck cut the evening short and took me home.

A couple weeks later, on my birthday, he took me to dinner at a Mexican restaurant. He told me all about the special on the way over. Chuck, you see, would go to certain restaurants on certain days, would order the special and water, and would eat for less than $8.00.

We sat at the table and he ordered water while I ordered iced tea. He looked at me disapprovingly over his menu, but I concentrated on the vast array of menu items. When the waiter came, Chuck tried to seize control and order for me.

"I'll have the alambre," I said cutting him off and rubbed salt into the wound of his bruised ego by adding, "It's my birthday." Chuck ordered the special, the lunch sized portion.

The food was excellent. The conversation was lacking.

Afterwards, on the way home, he said, "I got you something," as he reached into the backseat and handed me a gift bag.

I reached in and pulled out the first item I touched. "Why do girls always go for the card first?" he whined.

After I read the card, I reached in and pulled out the next item, something in a small, rectangular box. I was shocked to realize it was lipstick. (What guy buys a girl makeup for her birthday?) Not only was it lipstick, but it was Mary Kay lipstick. I opened it, twisting it up so I could see the color, which was brown. And it smelled like melted wax.

"Oh, thanks, Chuck. I'd try the color on but I'm already wearing another color. I don't think they'll mix well."

"You like it? I can get another one if you want. A lady at work had a whole basket of the stuff on her desk and I just picked one." Impulse birthday shopping?

Here's a little clue for you guys out there. Girls want to pick their own beauty products. If you want to buy something for her, make sure it's a product and color that she likes. The same goes for perfume. These things are an intimate part of what makes a woman unique. Err on the side of caution and give her something else.

"There's more," he told me after an awkward silence.

I reached into the bag a third time and pulled out a videotape. Chuck had gone to the trouble of recording "Titanic" for me. Now, I'm sure you've seen "Titanic". It's a depressing movie. DeCrappio dies, which would normally be a good thing, but you have to endure the never ending cries of Kate Winslet, "It's a boat, Jack. Jack, it's a boat. It's a boat, Jack...." Nothing spells romance like cable theft on VHS.

Right after my birthday, we went out for dinner again. (All we ever did was go out to dinner because Chuck kept eating things that didn't agree with him. In hindsight, I think it was another manifestation of his ultra cheap ways.) Chuck's car had no door handle on the passenger side. When we got to the restaurant he got out of the car, hit the door lock and walked away. I was stuck in the car long enough to start to panic before he opened the door and let me out.

We ate (but I was too pissed to remember where) and we drove up and down Westheimer a few times looking at the places others were going, but Chuck would never actually go to. He said some inane things that fueled my anger and then took me home.

The next day, I called my friend and told her I didn't want to see him anymore, he was freaking me out and pissing me off. She said, "Well he was just talking with me about the four of us (including her husband) getting together this weekend."

"Oh really? He's making plans and not even asking me? You need to talk to him." I figure she got me into this relationship, she can get me out.

She asked him, "Have you spoken to Trisa about the weekend?"

"No."

"I think you really should speak to her."

"Why?"

"She doesn't want to see you anymore."

And here, Chuck broke down crying, "I would've done anything for love."

Love? Chuck, my boy, I have to confess. When we were seeing each other, the girls at work asked me to describe you. I couldn't do it. "Um....well, he uh....he's roughly pear shaped."