One Crazy Old Single Lady

About twenty, some odd years ago, I had a group of friends, one of whom posed a hypothetical question to the rest of us. She asked, “If you found yourself dead broke and destitute, what lengths would you go to to feed your hungry child, or children?” Basically, she was asking how much were you willing to compromise your standards or principles. Would you steal? Lie? Eat out of a dumpster? Would you resort to criminal activity such as prostitution? Drug dealing? Robbery? How far would you go?

She painted a very detailed scenario for us to envision, and had us really searching ourselves for the answer. Because at first, some of the answers were along the lines of, “Well, I would never allow myself to become broke or destitute. I would always see to it that my child has plenty.” In other words, they believed that something like this could never happen to them. They couldn’t even fathom the thought. Admittedly, I was one of them. Its funny how the mind will have you believe that because you never have been in a certain situation, you never could be in a certain situation. Bad things only happen to other people, typically stupid people who make bad decisions, and “that’s not me.” But, she had us really picturing it, and it was a very teaching moment for us. I walked away from that conversation with a whole other perspective on life, and a lot more sympathy toward those who have very little in this world. But, again, I never thought I would ever actually become one of them.

Over the last two years, I’ve had to do things to survive that I never thought I would, or would have to. So far, that hasn’t been anything other than letting bills go unpaid, create a GoFundMe, and hit family and friends up for handouts. Embarrassing things, but not exactly shameful, really. You can’t give creditors what you don’t have, and most people do have to borrow or raise money from time to time. But, over these two years, with each new hardship I face, things get continually more desperate, and so do I. This week, I completed yet another test of my principles that I would have to say I both passed, and failed at the same time. I tried to sink to a new low for myself, but God, in His infinite Mercy kept me from following through with it.

Here’s what happened:

About six weeks ago, the last thing in this world I needed to happen, happened: My car quit on me. I was told the camshaft had worn completely out, and if you know anything about cars, you know this is no small thing by any means. It is a major engine repair, to the tune of around $4000, and unless I happen to win the lottery, there’s absolutely no way I’m capable of coming up with it. None. Without a car, I’m dead in the water, literally. Without transportation, or any way to get to work, I can’t live. Uber is not within my budget. I can’t trade the car in, not only because of it’s need of a $4000 repair, but because there is a lien against it that, coupled with the repair need, makes it impossible for a trade deal to work. If you have read my previous two blogs, you know that even if they could make a trade deal work, my credit became shot many months ago, and I couldn’t finance anything even with a 50% down payment. As I said…dead in the water, and completely out of options or resources.

This certainly put me in the state of destitution and despair my friend was speaking about at the beginning of this blog. Not just financially, but mentally as well. You have to understand, a human being can only take so much. You can’t spend over a year and a half suffering one consecutive hard blow after another with no break of light in between and not have it take a big toll on your mental stability. I won’t lie, I was suicidal. I had become so very weak and tired of struggling like this, and I’m just too old for it. My Faith in God had been severely shaken, my ability to think positive nonexistent, and hope was out of reach. My thought was, if struggle is all I can milk out of this life at the age of 57, then why on earth would I want it? Seriously, why? We all have to leave this world sometime, and I truly wanted to do that before things got any worse. They certainly weren’t going to get any better. That was, by now, quite clear.

Earlier that day, before I had learned of how bad the situation with my car actually was, I had matched with a man named Charlie on a dating app. He had sent me a like, and even though I did not find him very aesthetically appealing at all, I thought he seemed nice and possessed some interesting qualities. It said he was a veteran (and I definitely have a thing for veterans), a former volunteer firefighter (what girl isn’t turned on by a first responder?), loved muscle cars and hot rods, and made it clear that he was looking for his forever. All of that seemed to add up to an air of rugged masculinity that would, I thought, make his not-so-attractive appearance more attractive. So, I agreed to meet up with him for a lunch date the following day (Saturday). I had no idea when I accepted that date that I would be contemplating putting a bullet in my head by the end of the day. I thought about cancelling, but then reconsidered. I mean, the prospect of a free meal was the only positive thing I had going for me in this world. And before I take that final, irreversible step, I should at least spend the weekend trying to find another solution to the car problem. Possibly find someone from who to borrow one. Who knows? Maybe this Charlie guy had one to spare?

As he came walking into the restaurant where we met up, I was a little disappointed to see that his pictures were pretty true to life, and he did not really present better in person. But, this did not necessarily mean he didn’t have the personality to make up for it, and I was ready to explore that. It didn’t take long, though, to realize that the rugged masculinity, the infectious sense of humor, or strong air of confidence that I had hoped he would possess to make up for his lack of sex appeal, just simply wasn’t there. Oh, he was certainly nice enough. He had such a kind, and cordial demeanor, and a warm fuzziness much like that of a teddy bear. But, it didn’t take long to realize that this was a man that had a greater desperation for love and companionship than I had for money. Which, was certainly saying a lot!

Almost immediately he shared with me the fact that he was in the process of a divorce after only six months of marriage to his third wife. Red flag, for sure, but he explained that it was just one of those things…they were caught up in the moment, and rushed into it way too fast, having only dated for two months. Almost immediately after their quickie Vegas wedding, he became painfully aware that she only wanted him for his money when the intimacy simply stopped, and the epic spending began. He swore he learned a valuable lesson, and would never do anything like that again.

I had to stop him right there. “Well, then,” I said, “I have something that I need to tell you right now, because that is exactly what you are going to presume about me.” I laid it all out for him. All of it…the whole story about my spiraling descent into complete shit, from Todd’s sudden death, to the broken camshaft on my car. Even the thoughts of suicide. “I honestly don’t know what I’m doing here,” I told him on the verge of tears. “I’m clearly in no state to be dating anyone, and have nothing to bring to the table. All anyone is going to think of me is that I’m just out looking for a meal ticket.”

So kindly and consolingly, he reached across the table and took my hand in both of his. “I don’t think that of you at all.” He said. “I’m so, so sorry for all you have been through, and I really and truly admire the strength you have to keep going, and fighting through it.” Without letting go of my hand, he shifted in his seat a bit, and cleared his throat. “I know you’re going to think I’m crazy for saying this, but I want to help you.”

That got my attention. I looked up at him, in the eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. I want to help you.” Seeing how I continued to eyeball him for an answer, he went on. “God has blessed me with more than I’ll ever need. I get a large, lump sum amount each month in Disabled Veteran benefits, I have great job with a healthy, five figure monthly salary to boot, and I have nobody to share it with but my dog. I have the means to be a blessing to others, and that’s exactly what I would like to be.” He went on to say that whether or not this date develops into a relationship, he would still like to help me get a car, get my real estate license reactivated, or whatever else I need to get back onto my feet. Adding to that, he said that obviously, he would prefer that it does develop into a relationship, because “I was the prettiest girl he’d ever been on a date with,” and that he already knew he liked me a lot. I was the kind of girl he’d always dreamed of marrying, and ultimately that was the goal.

I literally couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

Not ten minutes before, this man was telling me that he was in the process of divorcing a woman with whom he rushed wayyyy too fast into marriage, only to discover her only motive was money. Now, here he was waving those dollars around again as bait with me, saying that he would one day like to marry me! I mean, just how dumb was this guy? Clearly, he learned absolutely nothing, and was willing to repeat the same mistake he made before, and at a much, much higher rate of speed! Who on earth does that? But, the question was…was I the kind of person to take advantage of a clueless oaf like this? And, the answer is, yes. Yes, I was. In that moment, and my current situation, I absolutely was. If he didn’t mind giving up money to help me, I certainly didn’t mind taking it.

In all honesty, I was so extremely grateful, and believed this to be an answer to prayer. There was no doubt in my mind that this was God. People I had leaned on in these hard times kept telling me that eventually, God would come through in His own time, which was always perfect. This timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Nobody could argue that.

I told Charlie that I did not want to accept his help, but I really had no other alternative, so I would. I also told him that I would be interested in exploring the idea of a relationship with him, but wanted to take it slow, day by day, meaning that sex was a sacred thing to me, and off the table until I had developed deep feelings for him. He responded by saying he completely respected that and wouldn’t want it any other way. So, we took it from there.

Yes, admittedly, my only real interest in him at that moment was the money, but I really did want to give a relationship with someone like him a chance. Maybe he could grow on me? He wasn’t my type, no, but wasn’t my type also my problem? Many times, I had asked myself why I couldn’t find some sweet, honest, guy who was crazy about me, and wanted something more than a friend with benefits, a concubine, or a one-night sperm receptacle. One who didn’t have a wife, or a collection of secret girlfriends, a major drug addiction, or a criminal record. Now, here was one right in front of me, offering me his whole world, and wanting nothing more than to make me happy. He’s exactly what I wanted and needed, and I didn’t want a little thing like the lack of chemistry to get in the way. That was a problem that could be conquered.

Two days later, on Monday, he paid for a car rental for me until we could find one to purchase. The agreement we made was that it would be put in his name, and I would make the payments. (With my credit in the state its in, putting me on the title was not an option) We also agreed that if feelings, or a relationship failed to develop, that we would remain friends, and he would still continue to help me get out of debt and on my feet. “Because that’s just the kind of guy he is, and above all, he just wanted to help me.”

By Thursday, I had found a great deal on a 2018, Infinity QX30, rose gold in color, with only 18,000 miles on it, and priced well below $20K. He had tried to steer me toward something much boujier, including a Mercedes, or a very souped up Dodge Challenger. But, that was just way too much for me, and I wanted to keep it simple. I told him over and over that I’m not the boujie type. I’ve never been one to have expensive taste or have materialistic tendencies at all. I learned long ago when my second husband and I were making a lot of money that it only bought some financial peace of mind, not happiness. The most meaningful things in life don’t come with a price tag. This little, pink car was more than adequate for me, and far better than I expected to find. Charlie was really saving my ass, and I was so very grateful for that.

In the meantime, despite the fact that I had told Charlie that I wanted to take things slow, spend some time getting to know each other, and not rush things, it was becoming crystal clear that he did not know what that meant. I’m not talking about sex…he kept his word in that respect and waited for me to let him know when I was ready. It was his incessant need to spend every single waking moment outside of our jobs together. I had told him that I was never one of those women who needed or wanted to be joined at the hip to her man, and those kind of relationships did not appeal to me. Yet, joined at the hip is obviously what he expected, and pushed to be.

Every single afternoon at the end of my workday, he was ringing my phone, asking first how my day was, then wanting to know what I wanted to do for dinner that night, as if having dinner together every night was a given. “I could grill us some steaks,” he’d say, “or we can go out. Which would you rather do?” And, if I told him that I was just too tired to get out, and would rather stay in, it would seem to really hurt his feelings. I mean, the reaction I got was like that of a sad, dejected puppy. If I used the excuse of needing to get laundry or other house chores done, he would even offer to come over and help me with them. Again, it made him very sad when I informed him that I could manage the task of washing clothes all by myself. That kind of clinginess was hard enough for me to deal with, but the worst part of all is how he had begun to refer to me as “his fiance.” Just a few days in, and he was already using that term! That one really bothered me.

Still, this man was helping me out in a very big way, and naturally I felt obligated to him for that. So, I tried to indulge his request to spend time together at least a couple of nights during the week. That first week, I let him cook me dinner at his house one night, but that turned out to be a very cringey experience. I mean, the food was great…the man can definitely burn an amazing steak, I’ll give him that. It was his behavior after dinner that gave me the ick.

We retreated to the couch to watch TV. (I absolutely hated his selection of Netflix favorites, by the way. What 52 year old man watches Harry Potter, or anime??) At one point he scooped up one of my feet onto his lap, removed my shoe, and began massaging my foot. As he did so, he gazed at me oh-so-adoringly, and…well…for lack of a better or more accurate term, goo-goo eyed, head tilted, and a wide grin on his chubby face. For a moment there, I thought he was going to tell me he loved me. Instead, he told me how excited he was about our future, that I was by far the most beautiful woman he had ever been with, and that he looked forward to spoiling me this way every night of our lives together. He said all of this in this, baby-talk sort of tone that incorporated some bizarre lisp, which came off to me sounding like he was trying to do an impression of Cindy Brady. I’m sure he thought he was coming off as very cute and endearing, but to me, it was just plain creepy.

Now, I’ve never been one to master a poker face. I’ve been told that my eyes are a billboard for any thought that may be in my brain at that moment, whether it be excitement, repulsion, or whatever. I can only imagine what the expression on my face must have been like at that moment given how hard I was cringing inside, but he didn’t even seem to notice. We had only been dating for a few days. I didn’t even know this man. I was so far from the point of sharing loving, goo-goo eyed gazes that I would need a plane ticket to get there. As bad as that was, it was even worse when I went to leave and kissed him goodbye. For some weird reason, when he kissed me, he would grip his forearms behind my back, and then just shake! Like, this vibrating kind of shake when one tenses up their limbs very hard and tightly. He had done that before a few times, but this time, it really bothered me. So I pulled back from him, and came right out and asked, “Dude, what are you doing? Why are you shaking like that?”

“What?” He asked, looking completely confused. “You don’t like that?”

WTF?? Is he fucking kidding me? Trying to remain tactful as possible, I said, “No. What is going on with that? Why are you shaking like that?”

Now becoming a little embarrassed, he explained, “Well, you have to understand, honey, I’m a man. Men have urges. Especially when we are kissing a beautiful, blonde woman. I’m just simply trying to control that urge, is all. I’m sorry if it bothers you.”

Ew. Just…ew. I got the feeling as he was explaining that, that he felt I should have known what the shaking was about, and that I should have found it to be a bit of a turn-on. He didn’t seem to notice my cringing during the baby-talking foot rub, but he could tell now just how very weird I thought that shaking was, and did seem to be a embarrassed by that. For that, I was thankful, because I knew he wouldn’t do it again. But, after that night, I avoided ever being alone in his house with him again. If we had dinner together, I would ask him to take me to a restaurant, because I only felt comfortable around him now if there were other people present. So much for developing an attraction! I knew at that point, it wasn’t going to happen. I absolutely did not get him, and found his behavior too strange to get used to.

Still, I did try, just because I felt I was under so much obligation to so. Furthermore, if I broke it off with him, what would I do? The sad fact was, he was this safety net I felt like I couldn’t let go of. I felt like I was in a place and moment where I wouldn’t survive without him, and I can’t put into words how much I hated this. Like it or not, I had to try and keep him appeased. And, when we were in a restaurant, or some public place, he could actually be nice to talk to. He behaved so normally, would just open up and talk. For me, a relationship can only develop through the art of conversation….sharing experiences, likes, dislikes, family life, dreams, goals, humor, etc. That’s how you develop a connection. Some relatability to one another. But, not Charlie. He wasn’t patient enough to allow that. For him, it was like….Hello! I’m Charlie! I like you! Let’s be a couple and be madly in love, and stay together forever, and ever, and ever!

Backing up a bit, I forgot to mention that in the very beginning, we had also discussed the possibility of my moving in to his house. Given the fact that my monthly income at my job was only enough to cover my basic monthly expenses: rent, utilities, phone, gas, some groceries, and maybe just a little bit of inexpensive extras like makeup, or a movie purchase on my streaming service. He felt that it would make a lot more sense just to cut all of that out, let him carry monthly household expenses, and let all my income go toward paying off my debt, repairing my credit, and getting my real estate license reactivated. And, in terms of getting my debt paid of quicker, I suppose that would make more sense. But, there was much more to consider. He assured me by telling me I could move into a bedroom of my own, and we could make it strictly a roommate situation if that would make me more comfortable. It didn’t, though, but I didn’t know how to tell him that. Instead, I didn’t agree, or disagree to the idea, but said I would consider it.

In his mind, though, this was the plan. He would continually ask me about it, too. “So, when do you plan to start moving some of your things in?” “Have you given your landlord your notice yet?” “Do you need me to help you start packing?” He started asking me these things by the start of the second week of dating. I had no choice but to just tell him straight out, I don’t want to do that, and that he was pushing things way too fast.

“Charlie,” I told him. “this is just all too much, and too overwhelming. I mean, we’ve only been dating a little over a week, and already you want me to start behaving like ‘wifey’? I can’t do it. Charlie, I mean….I don’t even know you! And, aren’t you the one that said you would never make the mistake of rushing so quickly into a relationship again after what happened with your ex wife? Now, here you are trying to do the exact same thing with me, only ten times faster than you did with her. I don’t get that. I don’t get it at all.” It was hard to hide my frustration. I did try, but it was like trying to ease open the lid on a shaken bottle of soda.

He seemed a little offended and angry that I pointed all this out…like, how dare I tell him what he did wrong. I got the feeling that he didn’t see anything abnormal, or wrong about how he was navigating this, though he could not argue my point at all. I sensed some tension there, for sure. But, again, he stressed that I didn’t have to share a bedroom with him, and added that we didn’t have to carry on a dating relationship at all while I was living there. It could be strictly a roommate situation between friends. However, I didn’t want to come right out and tell him I didn’t want to live with him, period. I did not want to share a home with this man in any way, shape, or form. I couldn’t tell him that, though, because, as I said, I was still in dire need of his help. I still couldn’t survive without it. But, I certainly began searching for solutions to that problem.

I wound up moving my youngest daughter in with me. Even though our relationship is somewhat volatile, and her life choices are questionable at best, I would much rather live with her than him. She needs help with her bills as much as I need help with mine, and we could definitely could use each other to lean on right now. I could tell Charlie didn’t like this, and by the start of our third week, he told me that he didn’t think a relationship was going to happen, and felt we should give it up.

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Well,” he said, “I just think that you are apprehensive because we rushed into it so fast, and reluctant to even try because of it.”

I tried to explain to him that there is no such thing as an instant relationship. We have everything at the click of a button nowadays, but relationships don’t work that way. It takes time, it takes getting to know each other, it takes building a bond. And, I asked him why he wasn’t willing to take the time to do that. I really wanted him to see that about himself, and confront it.

A day later, it was clear that he did. He had done a little self examination, and came to the conclusion that perhaps I was right. Building a friendship first, letting things grow organically, on its own time was the better way to go. He would be willing to slow things down, go at a pace I was comfortable with, and continue to pursue a relationship with me. And, I agreed. I mean, keeping our time spent together down to just a couple, maybe three times a week, and only in public places was helping. As I mentioned before, he was a lot more chill and relaxed when we were in public, and could carry on a conversation without that cheesy baby-talk, or goo-goo eyes. I had hoped that when he saw how much more favorably I responded to that side of him, it would encourage him to show it more often.

But…no.

He gave it a full two weeks, but that was all he could take. This taking it slow thing was more than he could bear. And he certainly didn’t seem happy with me for making him do it.

One day, he just suddenly stopped texting me. When I texted him to ask if everything was okay, he left me on “read.” So, I tried calling. He didn’t pick up. I knew something had to be wrong, because he had never done that before. After a while. he responded back finally and said that he was dealing with stuff today, and would talk to me tomorrow. I said okay, and left it at that.

I didn’t hear from him until late in the day after I got off work when he called. After a moment of chit chat, he finally tells me that he had been doing a lot of thinking about us, and just didn’t feel like there was any possibility for a relationship here. And, to be honest, he was right. I knew there was no way I would ever feel enough attraction toward this man to want to sleep with him, much less make a life with hm. All I had managed to do in a month’s time was tolerate being around him, and only because I felt obligated to do so. It would be a huge relief not to have to continue that charade anymore.

Many times, we had agreed that, no matter what became of he and I, we would remain friends, and he would continue to help me. “Because that’s the kind of guy he was, and he just wanted to be able to bless someone else the way he had been blessed.” I was prepared to keep up my end of the deal, which was to make the monthly payments on the car. As long as I did, the car would be mine to keep and drive. At least, that’s what he had said, many times.

Well…he lied.

After agreeing with him that there was no chance for a relationship to develop, and admitting that I tried, but simply could not develop any feelings, or any chemistry toward him, he then drops the bomb on me that he would be needing the car back, citing some excuse about having just got the insurance bill with the car on the policy, and the premium was just way too high. In light of that, he would feel more comfortable if the car was in his possession.

“So, why not just let me put the car on my insurance plan?” I asked. I mean, it didn’t make any sense.

“Because you can’t afford it,” he snapped back. He was becoming rapidly irritated.

“You don’t know that.”

“I would just feel much better if the car was here in my garage, and…”

“So, you’re just going to go back on your word, and renege on our agreement without even giving me a chance?”

Suddenly he became very dark and nasty. He barked at me that he would give me thirty days to find something else to drive, but he damn well expected some gratitude for that, and for everything else he had done for me up to this point. He had no apologies for going back on his word what so over, and no empathy for my situation now at all. In fact, it was clear he was taking pleasure in leaving me afoot.

Suddenly, it all became vividly clear to me, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t realized it before now. Rapid-fire revelations started unfolding in my head. All that time I had felt guilty, thinking that I was out here taking advantage of this silly, clueless oaf, but that’s not what it was at all. He was trying to take advantage of me, and now he was angry, and wanted to punish me because he couldn’t get it done. He saw an opportunity to manipulate and control a poor, destitute woman with his money, and it didn’t work. The man is a predator! This is why he went overboard with the love-bombing, trying to sell me on himself with promises of a lavish, spoiled life, “because that’s just the kind of guy he is.” This is why he had pushed so hard to have me move into his home. God only knows what he would have done to me once he had me cornered there with no place to go. The very thought made me shudder! Just like he was doing now, he would have changed up the rules, demanded God only knows what, and kicked me out on the street if I didn’t comply. Holy shit, did I ever dodge a bullet!

So many other things made sense to me now. Clearly this was why his two daughters had nothing to do with him. This was also why a lot of things he said about his ex-wife sounded far-fetched and didn’t really hold water. And, this was why I found all his gestures of kindness, like foot rubs, to be so very creepy, rather than sweet. My instincts were screaming at me, but I was trying not to hear them.

I ended that conversation as quickly as possible, trying not to react too harshly, and began trying to figure out how I would come up with something else to drive within 30 days. After that, then I would let him have it with both barrels! But, over the next few days, he kept trying to maintain contact and conversation. When I didn’t really engage in any, then he would send me texts telling me what I could, and could not do with the car while it remained in my possession. Things like…only drive it when absolutely necessary, and under no circumstance be driving it outside of town. This time, I saw it for exactly what it was: an attempt to continue to assert some kind of dominance and control over me.

Because I saw that for what it was, and because I didn’t let it evoke more than brief, one-word responses from me, I knew that he would probably come up with some reason or excuse to take the car away entirely before the 30 days he said he would give me were up….and that is exactly what he did. In fact, he only gave it a week, before he texted me and told me that a relative needed the car and he must have it back, today. I told him, “Jesus, I knew you were going to do this. I knew you would go back on your word.” Naturally, his intent was to gaslight me, so when I said that, he completely lost his temper, saying how he had ‘intended to play nice until I made a that comment.’

I told him I had already talked to the police, which I had, and informed him that, according to them, I had it in writing that I was allowed to use the car for the next three weeks, and if he took it away, I would then have a civil case against him. He really went into orbit then, demanding in all caps to, “JUST GIVE ME BACK MY CAR!” But, I also told him that I was certainly anxious to cut ties with him completely as I found him to be one of the most repulsive humans I had ever met, and would get a rental car that day, and leave that Infinity at the rental place for him to pick up.

Thankfully, I had someone there for me to help me get that rental for the time being. This same person also informed me that what is wrong with my own car could be something as simple as just the camshaft sensor, not the camshaft. The more I looked into it, the more I would have to agree with that assumption. The car is now in the hands of a mechanic as we speak, and I will know more about what exactly it will take to repair it very soon.

As for Charlie, though, I’m just sooooo relieved to be rid of him. I can say, though, that I did learn some things about myself, and a few valuable lessons from my experience with him. I’ve learned that my instincts are smarter than I am, and I should listen to them. I berrated myself several times over the “ick factor” I felt during that foot rub, and from other things he did in and attempt to be endearing. I thought…he’s just a sweet, social misfit, trying to be kind and affectionate. Why can’t you just appreciate that? Now I know it was my senses trying to protect me.

Looking back on it all now, I’m proud of myself, too, for not being the type of girl who can pretend to love a man, and indulge him sexually just so that she can enjoy the material things he can provide. I honestly don’t know how some women can. You see it all the time…young, hot women marrying old, raisin-faced, short, round, bald, awkward men with huge bank accounts. People talk all the time about marrying for money rather than love, because…why not? Now, if that is you, then more power to ya! To each his own. But, I now know that it is not in me to do it. If I’m going to be with a man, it’s going to be because of him, and not what he owns or earns. The connection has to be real, and stir my heart. My marriages may have failed, but they were all born out of a real, genuine love, and my next one will be too. 🙂

Cheers, Darlin’!