The Infestation

 

I often seek out New Englanders on the dating apps.  There is an immediate connection and kinship.  I may be biased but New Englanders are some of the funniest people I have ever met.  I find Kevin*, an uber-successful Philadelphia businessman.  The man is clever and smart, quick witted and mature.  We arrange a meeting and very quickly we meet.  He drives to me (always a bonus on the first date).  We meet at a local fun bar and we have a blast!  We laugh, trade stories and enjoy our wine and appetizers.  He kisses me often during the evening which I enjoyed.  We leave after many hours, glowing from a successful date.  We schedule our next date about a week later.  He lives in a fancy suburb of Philadelphia.  I drive from work and he meets me in the street.  He is giddy and so excited to see me.  This is great!  He invites me into his house for a drink before dinner.  I am not 100% comfortable with this idea, but decide to go for it…how bad can it be???

 

I walk up the stairs past the garbage and the Trump signs into an almost bare row home.  There are few pictures on the walls and a very old worn leather sofa.  He gives me a tour of the house.  The house is old, and a bit run down.  I question the fact that he has kids in this house, but it’s his house, not mine.  As I’m walking through the rooms, I notice these gray marks on the walls.  They are about 5-7 inches long.  They are on the walls, close to the ceiling.  We walk into the kitchen and there are more!  Eventually, he discloses that he has a moth infestation.  I WANT OUT NOW!

 

I bury this feeling as he pours me a glass of wine.  We chat on the worn leather couches and as I was talking he spreads his arms and claps his hands….dead moth.  The time is now, let’s go to dinner.

Dinner is at a great French restaurant.  He has drink after drink and continues to get louder by the moment.  Finally, dinner is over!  On the walk to the car, he attempts to kiss me multiple times and begs me to sleep over.  I tell him no nicely.  And I slide into my car.  My mistake is that I kept talking to him through the open window.  He squeezes his head into open space of my window and tries to kiss me again.  I move my head and push his face out the window with my hands.  I quickly roll up the window and speed out….goodbye moth man.

by

Boy Mom, Sister, Friend, New Englander, Career-Driven, Shoe-Snob, Fast Driver, and Divorced