Hooked on a feeling
You know that feeling when you hit it off instantly with someone? That’s what I had when I and the woman who is my current faithful companion – let’s call her “Tonto” — had our first dinner date. I’ll get to that. But first, some background.
I met Tonto through a mutual friend while we both were still married and she had joined our friend to see one of my bands play. I had been having lunch with our friend regularly for a few years, and the running joke between us was that I never carried enough cash to pay for my lunch. I would put both meals on my credit card and take the cash my friend was brandishing while berating me for not having any. I didn’t realize this was public knowledge until that night. I went over to their table, and Tonto said, “Oh … you’re the one who never has any money!” I liked her immediately.
About two years later, Tonto and I both wound up divorced, and although neither of us was looking for a new relationship, our friend suggested we might enjoy each other’s company. So we met for lunch, which went well enough that I asked her out. She agreed. Our first date was seeing the 1945 classic film noir “Double Indemnity” on the big screen. That, to me, was a kind of test. Life can be cruel. I don’t want to be associated with anyone who doesn’t like dark films that don’t have happy endings. Don’t get me wrong: I like happy endings. But if every one of the Hobbits had been killed in the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy, I still would have loved it.
Movie night went well, so well that I bought Tonto an ankle bracelet like the one worn in the film by femme fatale Barbara Stanwyck. Playing an unhappy wife, Stanwyck tricked insurance agent Fred McMurray, who was transfixed by her bracelet, into helping to kill her husband to collect on his accident insurance policy. If you’re familiar with McMurray and Stanwyck only from their later TV roles in “My Three Sons” and “The Big Valley,” you need to see their earlier selves in this film. It will be a revelation.
Not much later, the aforementioned dinner date took place. We went to a restaurant where a friend’s duo was playing. As luck would have it, also at the restaurant that night were several former co-workers I had not seen in many years, by design. Although I always had tried to be pleasant with them at work, they aggravated me. Sure enough, one of them spotted me and came over to say hello.
I introduced him and Tonto.
I thought I was home free, but another of the group came over. We exchanged pleasantries, and she said, “Oh, Dave … I don’t think I’ve ever met your wife.” Before I could say anything, Tonto quipped, “And you still haven’t!”
They returned to their table. I don’t recall how they reacted to Tonto’s statement, but I felt compelled to go over and explain that I had divorced since our last meeting. Looking back on it, perhaps I should have left a whiff of scandal in the air.
As we walked back to our car after dinner, Tonto said, “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that!”
“No,” I told her, “that was the perfect thing to say! It proves we’re right for each other.”
That that was almost 11 years ago. She still wears the ankle bracelet.
Happy ending!
No Hobbits were harmed in the production of this column.