the perfect name for my
main character. I thought of a few and wrote them down. Then one by one I
crossed them off until I had the right name for the first guy I was going to
be. Actually, I didn't know if the name went with the character or not. If not,
I doubted that I would have a best-selling novel.
Next, I
thought of an address I could use. It wasn't as if I had a Monopoly board full
of empty rental property. Coming up with the right address was tougher than
giving my character a name. Then, I came to the boxes under Sex. I smiled as I
thought of the guy who marked F rather than M, because Friday fit into his
schedule better than Monday. Quickly, I marked M and moved on.
I had come
to the fun part. Occupation and hobbies. At first I thought of making my guy
the night watchman at a laundromat, but then opted for an occupation more
ridiculous. I was beginning to think my date wouldn't be the CEO of some large
company. I gave the character I would be playing hobbies, too. I remembered
that one time someone mentioned Ed Wood, so one of the hobbies of the guy I was
to be was watching Ed Wood and other unappreciated movies. And hanging out in
locally-owned used bookstores to smell the books. I gave him a couple of other
hobbies, so that I could spread a larger net, then quit and figured out I would
capture a different type of woman with my next persona. If it turned out that I
excelled at characterizations, I might think of becoming an actor at a dinner
theater.
I moved
on to the next part, which was Dates That Will Not Work For You. I refrained
from writing "Women who chew tobacco and spit in public," "Women
with buck teeth," and "Women who are fifty pounds overweight who
don't cover up their middle," and instead put "None." I was
smart enough to realize they wanted to know any days of the week that I wouldn't
or couldn't date. I wanted to get this over with, so I left open all the days
of the week and finished the application. I stuck a one hundred dollar bill
inside, even though I knew that I shouldn't send money through the mail, but
figured they might be suspicious if the name and address on the check was
different from what was on the application. Once I had finished I folded the
application and put it in an envelope. I was curious as to what kind of woman
they would send to me. I was also nervous. I thought of Sam's idea of having
back-up, but figured I was safe at The Cheesecake Factory. Maybe I could get a
parking place close to the entrance.
I drove
to the post office to mail my application, then called Lou to tell him that I
had gone through with it. He promised me he would lie and say good things about
me at my funeral. I told him I was sending a second application with his name,
address, and phone number. He wasn't sure if I would or not, so he backed off.
Five days
later I received an envelope in the mail from Just For You Dating Service. I
tore open the envelope and saw that my first encounter would be with a woman
named Bambi and that we were to meet the following Friday at 7:30 . The name Bambi conjured up thoughts, none of them about
a deer. I wondered if they were pairing Fake Cy up with a young, exotic dancer.
They envelope contained the three color cards, but evidently I would have to
buy my own carnation.
A few
days later I called Sam to find out anything else he could tell me about the dating
service, and if he had any information about a woman named Bambi. He laughed
when he found out I was serious. He called back later to let me know that the
only thing he had so far was her last name, which wasn't Deere, and that she
had recently had chicken pox and had to miss a week of school. I was sure he
was lying about that part. He embellished too much when he threw in that her
dad was itching to try out his new shotgun, and that Bambi was excited about
getting her first pair of shoes to wear on the date.
I looked
at the calendar. It was Groundhog Day, and the sun was peeking through the
clouds. I
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