Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word



            The weather was unusually warm as I headed down the hill to the train station this morning. It felt like spring, and I felt a moment of spontaneous euphoria as it aroused memories of when I first arrived in Denver and was staying with my brother. My morning jogs along the canal near his house I miss.

            The first person I saw at the station was Mr. C, looking very much like the puppy dog who had just been kicked. He was visiting with another woman, and I think he tried to give me the cold shoulder, he wasn’t as chatty as usual. But he couldn’t hold out for long, and after a few minutes he came over to me.

            “I got some pictures from Christmas, you wanna see them?” He didn’t follow up with his usual chatter about when we would get together for lunch.

            “Sure.” I said. He pulled out a picture he had printed off of him at Christmas, as well as one he apparently took of me at the train station. “Wow,” I said, a little surprised but not too creeped out. I tried to hand them back but he refused.

            “No. Those are for you to keep.”

            “Oh, well, thanks.” He made small talk for another minute or two, until the Ice King came along. The King walked right up to me and smiled and started chatting. There’s some confusion with the new train schedule, so we traded banter as to which train would be coming and which would not. A third, new character, jumped into the conversation. I’m pretty sure the Ice King engages me in an attempt to save me from Mr. C, and Mr. C was throwing eye-daggers at the Ice King, and the third guy was oblivious to it all.

            We boarded the train, leaving Mr. C behind, and headed for the Yale station. No sign of the Italian, and when I exited the train Mr. J wasn’t waiting for me like he has been. No big surprise. I was a little relieved, and as I started walking up Yale I considered crossing the street so I wouldn’t have to pass by his territory, or at least be on the other side of the street. Nope. I wasn’t going to go out of my way because of him, so I turned up my tunes and headed up the hill. I saw him headed my way from two blocks away, his trench coat flapping in the wind as he walked. I braced myself and prepared to greet him.

            As we approached each other, I took my earphone out of one ear, looked right at him and smiled, and said “Good morning.”

            If looks could kill…He stared at me/through me, and said nothing as he walked past me. I couldn’t help but laugh as I finished walking to work. I can’t believe he could be so upset having only known me for about two hours…

January 20, 2012 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

I alternated all night between seething anger and laughing out loud after my date with Mr. J. We are definitely not compatible, and initially I believed it to be one of the worst dates I’ve ever had. But in retrospect, I guess that’s what first dates are all about, finding out if you want to spend any more time with that person. So, overall, I guess it turned out to be a good first date, because it served its purpose.
I met him at the coffee shop on the mall, and within five minutes of him sitting down he was trying to hold my hand. I pulled it back and wrapped both hands around my cup of coffee. For a few minutes we had a good conversation—we both criticized organized religion and big pharma. But then he grabbed my hand and said “I like touching your hand.”
“I don’t like to be touched really. At least not by people I don’t know.” I pulled it back again. He blushed slightly, but then said I had beautiful hair. It’s true, I do have exceptionally good hair these days, but I didn’t want him to touch it. After our coffee we decided to head across the plaza to the Jazz bar and see what was playing there. I knew I should have ended the date there, but I was curious to check out the Jazz bar. Much like when I was in Mexico and wanted to see the dump. I knew I shouldn’t, but curiosity got the best of me.
Once outside he immediately tried to put his arm around me as we walked. I politely escaped, and tucked my arm in his elbow, keeping him at arm’s length.
As soon as our drinks arrived, he put his hand on my knee and tried to rub my leg. I moved away and decided to put an end to it.
“I have to be honest. I’m not looking for any kind of physical relationship.” There, I’d said it.
“Really? Why not?” he asked, still trying to grope my knee.
“I’m just looking to make friends, find people to hang out with and see how it goes.”
He tried to argue the physical thing, and I finally just told him “We are not going to have sex.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I don’t have sex with people I don’t know.”
“Well how long does it take to get to know someone?”
“At least a year,” I said.
“F*&* that,” he said. “I’m not waiting a year.”
I couldn’t believe he said that out loud, but I took it in stride.
“I totally respect that. Then I guess I’ll see you on the train. Thanks for the beer and the coffee.”
I sat back to finish my drink and watch the people dance, but he began to argue with me.
“That’s ridiculous, why would you make someone wait a year? If I have to wait a year then you can’t have sex with anyone else.”
Whoa! He was totally out of control. I pulled something out of my daughter’s arsenal.
“Look. I don’t have any room in my man garden. I do, however, have room in my friend garden. If you can hang out with me as a person, with no chance of sex, that’s cool. But I’m not looking for a relationship.”
He went on to argue that I was a hypocrite, and tried to pull his Zen master analysis of me to try and convince me that I needed to have a physical relationship. I stood my ground, and said, “You may think me a hypocrite, and you are obviously narrow-minded, so it’s a good thing we had this date to figure out we really don’t have anything in common.
Still he argued, and I just hurried and finished my beer. He tried to hold my hand and put his arms around me as he walked me to the Sheraton, where I planned to catch a cab.
“You don’t want me to walk you home to your apartment?”
Then came the final nail in the coffin. I had already told him there was no chance whatsoever that I was going to spend time alone with him, or any strange man, in their apartment. He balked about having to come downtown to meet me in the first place, and at this point I was ready to go home.
“So, about Friday night.” He said. “I have every channel of TV you could imagine, we could just cuddle and watch TV…”
TV, and cuddling…I stood in the parking lot and stammered and pointed, my head spun around and I’m pretty sure I shot lightning bolts out of my fingertips when I pointed at him.
“No, no no. TV is the devil, and I am not coming to your apartment!”
“Oh, I see. You just want to go out and about. If it’s not doing something exciting you don’t want to do it. I’m outta here.” He turned and walked away.
I caught a cab home, and was quite proud of myself for being so assertive. I was so darned assertive, the night could have played out like a bad episode of the Sex in the City.

January 20, 2012 Posted by | Uncategorized | 3 Comments