“I just want to be friends” has been used so much by men and women alike that it’s a wonder it even works anymore. It’s like an old vinyl record that just won’t go away even though you no longer have the phonograph to play it on.
About three years ago Ol' Dutch was just meandering along minding his own business when he himself fell for just such a line.
Having been tricked into laying some tile for our church, I was approached by a tall, dark headed vixen of no unknown beauty who offered to help me. She turned out to be pretty good help and her mom fed me lunch every day, too. This should have sent off warning signals clear to the Center for Volcanic Detection in Los Angelos, California but Ol' Dutch fell for it hook, line and sinker.
But I was lonely and needed the help and thought I was in control of the situation and besides, she said that she just wanted to be friends. She was very clear with me that once the summer was over she was off to California or Nepal or Mozambique and her “life” so we needed to remain “just friends.” Little did I know but Trixie was in a double-speak, spin cycle only to be rivaled by the industrial load machine at the local washerteria.
Since Ol' Dutch had been married way too long, he didn’t really know how these things worked. I was happy to think I found a woman of like mind as I was. The summer proceeded wonderfully being “just friends” as that in itself has definite boundaries; the most important of which involves money.
You see, when you are “just friends” you go “dutch” which being my name seemed perfect. Trixie was always sharing out of her bounty and wherever we went she was always pulling money out of a seemingly limitless purse.
So life proceeded very nicely until one day, Ol’ Dutch woke up and we were “more than friends.” I guess I should have known that time had come because we had fallen into an old couple routine of hanging out together during the day and staying in at night. And that, my friends, is what you call perfect.
Until last week when the earth moved a tad under Ol’ Dutch’s planted-deep-in-the-mud feet. It seems that Trixie thinks we should have a date night every once in a while. How did she miss the memo? We men have steady girlfriends so we can move through the dating phase, aka “expensive and detrimental to our bank account,” as soon as possible.
Here, I had thought all along that she had melded into a stay-at-home girlfriend type where in reality she was just biding her time until Ol' Dutch was sucked completely into her web.
Everywhere I looked brochures for museums, dolphin watching cruises, coupons for romantic dinners and even, the local movie theatre guide started appearing around the place. Do you think that is a hint? Just the other evening, I mentioned night fishing and she opted to watch, “The Voice” instead.
I guess I will have to start considering some “date nights” in the future to keep Trixie from bolting to some unknown place as she oft gets a faraway look in her eyes as we pass some brightly lit venue of nightlife offerings.
Let this be a lesson to all of you single men out there: the world is full of traps and crevasses just waiting to swallow up the unsuspecting traveler unused to the wiles of a desperate woman.
Perhaps I should ask Trixie if we can just be friends again? Then, maybe I will just stick my hand in the meat grinder. I am sure that will be less painful.