Husband took the boys on a whale watch this weekend, so I planned a solo lunch and kayak trip for myself. I have many friends who would do anything to avoid eating alone in public, but it’s one of my favorite things to do, as long as I have something to read. So I gathered up the Sunday paper and went down to the diner. It was crowded, so I sat at the counter, at the end. I gave my order and settled down with the paper.
The cashier approached me and handed me a business card. “This isn’t mine,” I said.
“The gentleman up by the register told me to give it to you.”
The card had a man’s name and the profession “antiques dealer” in Boston and southern Maine. I didn’t recognize the name. “I think you’ve got the wrong person,” I said. She looked irritated and tossed the card on the counter. I figured it was a lame marketing ploy. I ate my lunch and left, leaving the card on the table.
As I was waiting for the kayak tour to start, my curiosity got the better of me, and I Googled the name to see just what he was peddling. The first hit that came up was on a site called dontdatehimgirl.com. It’s a site where women can go to complain about their ex-boyfriends, ostensibly for the benefit of other women. The post said that “John Doe” had been verbally abusive and had conned the complainant out of cash, and that she didn’t know he was married until he appeared at the hearing where she obtained a restraining order against him. “Ladies of Massachusetts and Maine, beware!”
I would normally not give credence to an anonymous tale like this. Still, the man had sent the waitress over to me with his card, like some randy conventioneer at a Marriott bar. Was it an indication that he was looking for his next meal ticket? And that he thought I, une femme pushing un certain age, looked lonely, desperate, and solvent enough to be a likely candidate? YUCK.
I’m not sure I approve of dontdatehimgirl.com. The whole concept of ratting out your ex seems rife for abuse. And even if the information is accurate, don’t you already have friends who can tell you whether or not your new boyfriend is a jerk?
A lovely little coda to this experience occurred just as I was telling Husband the story over dinner that evening. We were dining at yet another Port City bistro. A young woman was sitting across the room from us, dining solo. I noticed her because, as I said above, I know that many women don’t like to eat out alone, and it’s fairly rare to see someone eating alone at 9:30 at night at what passes for an upscale restaurant in Port City. We passed her on the way out; she looked up from the paper she was writing on and made some remark about being the last to leave.
“What are you writing?” Husband asked. “A letter?”
“To my boyfriend,” she said.
“Is he in the military?” I asked, thinking that was one of the few situations that would require a hand-written letter.
“No, he’s incarcerated,” she said.
“What’s he in for?” burst out Husband. I imagine Emily Post would consider that a rude question but, hey, I say she opened the door to that line of inquiry.
“Assault and battery,” she said.
Here is a woman whose friends were not doing their job. Let me try:
Oh, honey. Unless he is a prisoner of conscience, and Amnesty International is launching a letter-writing campaign on his behalf, an incarcerated beau is probably a really bad bet. There are so many fish in the sea; why tie yourself down to one in an aquarium?