Recycling as a Dating Term


           I recycle cans, glass, and paper. Last week I had to decide whether to recycle a date. I do know a woman who recycled among three men. After doing this at least twice around with each and marrying one of them, she wound up with someone else.

Four years ago I had a date with a computer engineer named Jay. We met at The Vig, an “in” bar in Phoenix. He got there early and managed to snag a booth. We shared some wine and appetizers and talked. He had spent years overseas working on various projects. I talked about my time in China with Global Volunteers. We clicked and there was definitely. chemistry. His good night kiss was passionate and let me know he felt the vibes, too. A few days later I got an email from him saying that he was going to try to make it work with his ex-girlfriend. I thanked him for his honesty and that was it.

A year later he contacted me and asked to take me out for a drink. I was a bit leery, but I accepted and chose a place near my home, Humble Pie. As we talked I found out he was unemployed, a no-no in my book. He assured me he would be getting big checks for unemployment because he had had a high-powered job in Pennsylvania. He asked me to go to a Christmas Eve party with him and I agreed. I should have known better than to g o out with a non-Jewish guy on Christmas Eve. Why wasn’t he spending it with his grown daughters or close friends?

He called the afternoon of Christmas Eve to say that he hadn’t received any unemployment money yet and so he couldn’t afford the tickets for the party. But he had gone online and bought a great deal for dinner at The Golden Buddha. My gut told me to cancel the date, but I’m too nice a person to renege. We ate a scrumptious dinner, but he was quite down in the dumps. When the check came, the restaurant wouldn’t honor the gift certificate so I paid for dinner. By that time all I wanted to do was escape from his gloom. I didn’t go out with him again.

            Last week I got an email from him, wondering how I was and if I was still at the same AOL address. (I’ve had the same email address forever.) He wrote that that he had often thought of me (he spelled you yiu) and the amazing connection he felt, I wrote back, with trepidation, saying I was fine and that I’d just finished a novel. He answered me with three emails. He must have written several women. One had my message but with an extra line “I miss yui.” Where did that come from? He also answered, “I am fine.” And in the last one he said, “I am missing you, pretty lady.” I’m not going to write him again. Most guys I’ve dated are better left in the past. This is one area in which I’ve decided not to recycle.

Check out my books Reinvented Lives and As One Door Closes, available on amazon.com

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