Cupid and The Cadaver

“Why, oh why do I have all these spots on my face Mama?”, I used to wail when I was little. With a gentle smile my mom always assured me that “Each freckle is where an angel kissed you goodbye before you came back down here to Earth”. I’m pretty sure one of those angels must have peeked at my birth chart and said “We better give this one a super heaping helping of humor, because she’s surely going to need it!” I certainly needed it last night, when Cupid played a little practical joke on me.

Had a blind date with a Cuban writer/newspaper publisher. Great photos and my girlfriends all agreed that he was super hot, not the usual Crypt Keepers I’ve been going out with. He’d chosen a beautiful venue right on the beach at sunset and since I have a strong leaning to bronze Latin types with dark hair and eyes, things were looking quite promising indeed. I’ll never forget the first time I was in a movie theatre and saw “The Godfather”. I decided right then and there it was time to haul my Texas self off to NY and claim one of those lovely Italian boys for my very own. The pink-skinned, blond, blue-eyed farm boys of Texas just weren’t ringing my bell.

Moi…serenely sipping a chilled Chardonnay, relishing the dramatic sunset laid out before me, and awaiting the arrival of Mr. Tall, Dark, and oh so Handsome. I couldn’t help but notice black and roiling storm clouds gathering in the distance. In retrospect I think this was a message from my BFF Mother Nature giving me a clue about where this evening was headed. And suddenly, just like that, there he was…Tall, Dark, and oh so Handsome’s……grandpa. And while there was more than a passing resemblance to the photos I’d seen, THIS was clearly not THAT!  His photos were labeled April; yes, but of what year? 1994? To top it off on this lovely tropical evening, he was wearing layers, just in case that zany thermometer should dip down to 77 degrees and he might need the extra layer to keep his dentures from chattering.

And that was the high point of the evening. For the next three hours he pontificated about small town politics and his ten cats, which caused me to inhale the aroma of Chanel Feline No 5 throughout dinner. He only furtively glanced at me perhaps a dozen times and instead kept his eyes steadfastly cast down on the salt and pepper shakers the entire night. I desperately wanted to grab him by the chin and scream, “Hey buddy, eyes to the right 10″ and 18″ to the north”. The last time someone so steadfastly refused to look at me during conversation was when my son would tell me a huge whopper about his shenanigans.

Finally my inner gremlin took control and I placed by hand on his arm and solemnly asked him if he ever had any fun. To which he soberly replied, “No, I don’t ever have fun. Well, I do enjoy breakfast with the old men in town, and traveling to train shows where I yell at everybody. And Friday nights are good, when I put the paper to bed”! It was about that time when something from high above me in the restaurant caught my eye, a brief movement. Peering closer, high up in the rafters, there sat Cupid, holding his chubby little sides and rolling with laughter. He thought pairing party-loving, concert-going, dancing, laughing me with this dour loner was hysterical. That vertically challenged, half-naked, hefty little angel should remember that payback is a bitch and Mama has a very long memory and a deadly aim.

dead cupid

By this time there was a violent lightening storm pounding rain sideways, completely befitting my mood. If you want to slow the passage of time, please let me give you this gentleman’s contact info. He can make three hours feel like three days. I think having a moldly priest read me actuarial tables in Russian would have made for a more exciting evening.

I greatly amused myself on the soggy drive home by imagining describing the evening to my girls. Here goes. Imagine you are deep in the bowels of the NYC subway system and you absolutely HAVE to use the facilities. Flat out…there is no other option here. You reluctantly sidle in and see a dozen large dead cockroaches turned on their backs from their death by pesticide. They have been urinated on by many of NY’s finest homeless and disenfranchised in the two weeks that their festering corpses have been lying there. Then, imagine someone comes along and forces you at gunpoint to eat them.

Yep, best date ever!

Featured image courtesy of

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