by Rosa Lee

Created on: December 07, 2009   Last Updated: January 25, 2011

He'd been confident, funny and charming during our phone conversations so when talk with the lawyer of a mutual client took a more personal tone, I let it. I'd been single for 4 years and was more than ready to get back in the saddle. Booking a casual lunch with him, I thought I'd finally scored a decent date and looked forward to meeting the man on the other end of the phone.

I had chosen a nice restaurant near the fitness centre I work out at, figuring that if I had to ditch him I could use my workout as a great excuse. I arrived 10 minutes early and had the waitress seat me so I could keep an eye on the door. I was eager to see what this gentleman looked like. He described himself as tall with reddish hair that was greying at the temples. That appealing description combined with the clean-cut lawyer image definitely caught my interest. I ordered a pitcher of water while I waited, peering over the top of my menu occasionally to check out patrons as they entered.

About 5 after the hour, a lone man entered, wearing a dirty-beige oversized suit with an early-80's cut. He vaguely fit the lawyer's self-description, although at least 15 years older than I'd expected and greying that expanded far beyond his temples. The man had a toothy grin that he shared too easily with the young hostess at the door and a loose-limbed gait associated with the perpetually inebriated.

My skin crawled and I hoped that this was not my lawyer. By the way he was looking around, it was obvious that this was indeed my lunch date. I looked over my shoulder to see how far I was from the rear exit, but he spotted me before I could bolt.

His grin stretched to shark-width. I felt the panic of cornered prey, twitching in my seat but resolutely determined not to show fear or weakness. I fixed what I hoped was a polite and friendly smile to my face as he strolled over to join me with a self-important swagger. With a cowboy straddle, adolescent snap of bubble gum and Hollywood-perfect hitch of his too-long sleeves, he sat across the table from me.

After ascertaining that I was indeed single with the divorce far enough behind me to assure I wouldn't go running back to my ex-husband, my lunch date launched into a monologue filled with enough drama to keep Shakespeare writing new material for 50 years. I got the run down of all his "psycho" ex-wives and ex-girlfriends, including the one that had moved out 4 months previously but still kept her belongings at his place.

When the waitress came to take

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