Sunday

Ted+Kelly, Part 3: The One Where the Girl Almost Loses It.

In case you're new, start here:
PART 1
PART 2
Now you're up to speed!  And can we just agree that while this next one is TOTALLY true, it's also totally embarrassing?  Ted and I were amazed tonight, as we recalled details, that we ended up together.  We should have eschewed one another hardcore after this experience.

*****

I got out of my first date with Ted just what I was hoping to get out of it: a fun time with a nice guy and ice cream.  But that wasn't all.  Oh! - if only that were all.

*****

The snow had died down a bit, everything was melting as it started to get warmer.  I had gone home over Easter weekend to be with my family in Mesa.  Seeing my dad's plethora of banjo paraphernalia made me think of Ted.  Ted had just gotten a new banjo, intent on learning to strum.  He didn't seem musically inclined though and I knew he needed all the help he could get.  "Happy Birthday" was his only conquest so far.

I mentioned my friend Ted's new passion to my dad.  Banjo guys stick together.  He gave me some picks, a practice implement, and books to bring Ted.

Shortly after I arrived home, Ted made the almost literal hop-skip-and-jump to my apartment, thrilled with his new toys.  He, I imagined, was certain he could learn the banjo with all these goodies.

"I have to do something to repay your dad's kindness," Ted said with a sly grin, a grin I would come to know and suspect the rest of my life.  "How about a date?"

Oh Ted, I thought.  He doesn't know who he is dealing with.

I immediately sent a text to my dad and told him Ted wanted to take him out on a date.

My dad replied quickly. "That's alright, you can take my date."

"My dad passed, " I told Ted.  "He said I should go in his place."  I was certain Ted didn't know what to think about this crazy woman.

We went on a date that weekend.  Little did I know it would be the last first date in the history of me.

He picked me up and we walked over to his Scion XB, the Toaster, Leroy.  It was the boxiest, most impractical, shiny, gray vehicle I'd ever laid eyes on.  He had a flashy, new car, and, Karin had reported to me, a mortgage.  He owned the home his mother lived in, in Arkansas.  While she deemed it wildly irresponsible to own a house he didn't even live in and she swore she could NEVER date a man so impractical, once I understood the reasoning, I admired his owning a home for his widowed mother.  But I'd never dated a guy with a car payment AND a mortgage let alone just gone ON a date with one.

Ted took me downtown.  He parked that little Toaster underground in the parking garage.  We decided to take the nearby elevator up to ground level.

As we waited for the elevator it suddenly became awkwardly silent.  I wasn't opposed to silence so it seemed strange that it FELT awkward.  Then Ted decided to fix that in the worst way possible.

"Hey, have you ever farted in an elevator?"

Yeah, that just happened.

I told Ted that I had, indeed, never passed gas in an elevator.

"Well I have.  And thank goodness I was alone because it stunk to HIGH HEAVENS!"  He said this without blushing.  Without a follow up comment along the lines of, "I'm sorry for my diarrhea of the mouth, I apparently have no filter and can't keep these things in."  He just said what he thought. I was slightly mortified.

Once we surfaced, we went to Pita Pit.  I ordered something amazing and he ordered something greasy.  We both ordered drinks and filled our cups with lemonade.  I noticed some spilled packets of sugar and, while filling our cups, offered one to Ted. "Sugar?"

That sly grin made a reappearance.  "Sure baby, but not that kind."  And he attempted a provocative wink from behind his Drew Carrey glasses.

I couldn't believe he had just said that to me.  On our first date.  Or at all.  Ever.  Because... he was... Ted!

I, for once, had no snappy retort.  Me!  I had nothing to say.  I just swallowed air and mumbled out an, "Oh dear...."

Lunch was great.  I can't tell you three things we talked about.  But I can tell you what was next: ICE CREAM! We walked across Heritage Square to Coldstone.  Ted encouraged me to buy some frozen monstrosity of chocolate-waffle-bowl-sugary-carmel-absurd-amazingness.

We sat in the square devouring our treats.  "What a perfect day, " I thought.  The sun shone and warmed the brick we sat on.  Ted and I talked about so much nothing.  Our families, growing up.  I was continually surprised  by his life details.  One of six children born over seven years.  his father was a quadriplegic.  He served his mission right where Hurricane Katrina has recently wreaked compete havoc. He worked completely irrational hours for the company Loomis Fargo, a job in which he described himself as, "a hired gun."

For a while, after our ice cream was gone, we sat and chatted.  I had another commitment that afternoon, work related, so we headed back to the parking garage, back to the elevator.  As we walked I heard the bells chime, 1, 2, 3:00.  "Three o'clock and all is well," Ted said in a sort of off key sing-songy voice.  I added to the silliness, quoting old 80's commercials and public service ads. "It's three o'clock, do you know where your children are?"

Ted seemed to. "Yeah. Well, I guess YOU do."  I expected some cute response, saying my children were in Heaven or something precious when I asked where my children were.  But I got a very different response.

Ted pointed each index finger to his lower abdomen, one on each side, sort of, as one might imagine, where a woman's ovaries may reside, in a man's mind.  "Right about here."

We got back to the car.  Oh thank goodness for getting back to the car.  So far on this date Ted talked about his extreme flatulence, tried to seduce me in Pita Pit, and made reference to my reproductive system.  I wasn't discounting the high points of the date, but the oddity of the experience far outweighed the fun simplicity.  This, I thought as we waited at the light for an endlessly long train to pass, was going to be one my roommates would giggle over for weeks.

But at that moment I didn't feel the urge to giggle. I did feel another urge but it was not funny.  As Ted went on about something work related, all I could do was dash my eyes from here to there, looking for a restroom.  The lunch, and more specifically the lunch DESSERT, was attempting to make a beeline for the exit.  Apparently Ted wasn't the only one suffering from diarrhea and while his was verbal, mine was... not.

I couldn't remember a time in recent dates when I had experiences such profound intestinal distress.  Each train car that passed both mocked me and brought a sense of elation.  One more car passed.  One car closer to the end.  Moments from my apartment.  My bathroom.  I knew it had gotten serious when I saw Ted's lunch box - a small, 6-pack style cooler - on the floor of his pristine vehicle, and the thought passed through my mind that it would be better to soil that than his upholstery.  It. Was. Bad.

And then, just as quickly as it arrived, and yet NOT, the train was gone and we were on our way with a stick shift lurch.

We arrived in my parking lot and I had to make it look as thought time had gotten away.  Ted had barely parked when I hopped out.  But he followed.  I thought for sure he'd let me return to my apartment when he saw what a rush I was in.  I mean, I didn't want to offend but... it was about to get offensive.

As I dashed to my door, he stayed on my heel.  I thanked him quickly as I could, included a hug, and retreated to my apartment.

"Well, that's that." I thought.  "At least it's over with.  Ted will never ask me on another date again.  ... Maybe it would have been better had my dad went."

2 comments:

Heather said...

Ok, this was awesome. Hah! I especially love the way you described your "intestinal distress" - how can one talk about diarrhea with such class? I also am really enjoying this series since I've never met Ted and don't know much about his personality. I like his spunk and confidence!

Jewel said...

Again, this is SO fun. Sometimes it's amazing to look back at the billions of our relationships beginning and think..."Wow. That really happened..."
And u agree with Heather. You talk about diarrhea with such class!