Mile High Club
For some reason, I seem to meet a lot of guys at the airport. I have had more dalliances with men traveling across the country than in my own hometown. And every time it happens, I chalk it up to a fluke encounter. But is it? Case in point, yesterday. I had the travel day from hell, nothing was going right, and I was completely frustrated. I must have had a sign on my forehead that said, “Flirt with me” because I had more men talking to me that day than this whole year so far.
First up was The Cowboy. Granted, I was in the South, but I am pretty sure I come off as a city girl upon first glance. The Cowboy started out subtle, standing near me in line, shaking his head in support of my miserable existence with Delta Airlines, and followed me to the bar to commiserate. Then he let loose with probably every one-liner he had ever heard. I nodded politely, sucked down my cocktail, and ran. Something about him made my skin crawl. I knew this guy had a branding iron at home and wasn’t afraid to use it.
Next up was the One-Armed Bandit. I was sitting quietly in the terminal reading and patiently waiting while Delta screwed up yet another of my flights. He sat down next to me and said, “You were on my plane a week ago. You were a few rows in front of me, you had a Bloody Mary and you watched a movie on your laptop.” Holy shit, he was a stalker. As if reading my mind, he said, “No, I’m not a stalker, I just noticed you because I think you’re really beautiful.” Okay, that worked. We chatted for about 15 minutes and I actually kind of liked this guy. I was also very relieved that he wasn’t going to my destination because I didn’t know if I liked him that much. But still, I sized him up (from the side because he was sitting to my right) and “hmm, this could be a possibility” appeared in a thought bubble over my head. The thought bubble then popped.
He stood up to say goodbye and I suddenly noticed that he was missing his right arm. How did I not notice that? And wait, does it make a difference? He asked for my phone number and I immediately blurted out, “Oh, thanks so much, but I have a boyfriend.” Did I really just lie because he was missing an arm? I feel so shallow.
I actually still wonder if I could date a guy missing an arm. I dated a guy missing a ball once because he had testicular cancer. That didn’t really bother me.
Maybe The One-Armed Bandit is the one that got away.
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Mile High Club(foot)
I feel like such a pussy. The guy had one arm, yet he had no fear or trepidation about striking up a conversation with you and asking you out.
I am in perfect working order with all of my limbs intact, but I’m so damn self-conscious half the time that I can’t untie the knot in my tongue without a Swiss Army knife and a couple of Heinekins. The last three dates I’ve been on come under one of two scenarios; either she did the asking, or she made it so damn easy that she wanted me to ask that Ray Charles would have seen it. I’m definitely more picky than I am scared, but I still haven’t asked a woman out in ages that wasn’t a guaranteed yes. This guy is so self-assured and relaxed that you didn’t even know his arm was missing until he walked away. It seemingly never even dawned on him to bring it up.
I need to take some chances. And you should have gone out with him.
I remember when Paul McCartney married Heather Mills and I thought she was so cool and a really great-looking woman… then we found out that she had a prosthetic leg and my respect and attraction for this famous woman only grew as a result. This marriage between the ex-Beatle and the much younger woman who’d overcome this physical handicap to rousing success and inspration was truly love, at it’s best. A man and a woman overcoming their physical difference without hesitation, driven by a commitment to be together for the rest of their lives. It made me that much more certain that true love can still conquer all, and that if I fell in love with the right woman there would be absolutely nothing, not even a physical disablity of hers that would keep me away. As you certainly remember, they divorced a few years later. It was the lead story at every checkout stand in America and by the end, nine out of ten people despised this woman. Nobody cared or even noticed her handicap anymore.
I guess it takes a big person to become intimate with a handicapped person… I also guess it takes an even bigger person to walk away from them if things don’t work out.
Have to say, I can’t imagine you being in a relationship with a guy who is missing a limb – unless of course, it’s his dick. Wait, that won’t work either. Certainly not his brain. That you require above anything.
