Shallow Dave – After my divorce I tried a number of venues to get back into the dating scene; bars, AOL Chatrooms, newspaper personals, etc. (never tried a pay dating service). There were at least three dates that stand out from the rest, the first of which I will call Shallow Dave.
I met a woman in an AOL chatroom that wanted to get together. She asked for a recent photo of myself so I sent it. When I asked for one in return, she declined making various excuses.
Later on in life I was to find out that people often lie about their age, their appearance, their occupation, and more. We agreed to meet for a drink on a Friday night at a bar in Garfield, NJ. I was supposed to pick her up at 8PM. At that time, I had custody of my children every other weekend so my “free” weekends were important to get things done I couldn’t do otherwise.
Finding the apartment was not too much of a problem and there I was, at the door, getting ready to ring the bell. Now I must digress a moment. I do not consider myself to be a “Shallow Hal.” This modern “body image/body shaming” movement is close to my heart having two daughters myself.
That said, I rang the bell. From a muffled distance inside I heard a low guttural sound. Slowly it grew louder, and I could make out, “I’m coming.” When the door opened, I kid you not, was a woman with a walker. You see my friends; this woman was obese. A person in the medical field would call her “morbidly obese,” as in she was 5’6”, over 300 pounds.
She spoke first, “Now that you see what I look like, are you still going to take me out?”
I replied without hesitation, “I promised you a drink and will keep my promise!” At this stage of my life, I might not have been so kind.
As we walked toward the parking lot she asked if we were going to go in my car, or separate cars. Well, separate cars sounded like a better plan to me. She asked me to follow her because much to my surprise, she wanted to pick her up girlfriend. Yes, my night might be saved after all!
When we got to her girlfriend’s house, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was another woman, not much smaller than my date, waiting for us. What were the odds? We finally got to the bar, and as we entered, we were greeted to a chorus of her friends who were already there.
This is where the story begins, because you see, she belonged to a, what are the right words, “Obesity Club, Heffer Society,” and I was the prize she was going to show off to her friends.
So, I fulfilled my promise, bought her a drink, and a short time later a band started to set up. By band I mean a middle-aged man and woman who were going to sing to canned music.
I said to the herd, “I’m off to the men’s room” and was actually thinking a lesser man would bolt.
Suddenly one of the ladies actually said, “Are you planning on jumping out the window?”
It was not too much longer until the “band” started singing disco music badly. My date looked at me saying, “Well, SOMEBODY better ask me to dance or I don’t know what I am going to do!”
That was it, I snapped. A man can only take so much. I stood up, exclaimed “That’s it,” and BOLTED.
On the way home I stopped for a drink at “The Hungry Peddler” in Cresskill. I was telling the story of my night to a bartender who was laughing so hard he was tearing up. The End