But I digress.
After the break-up of my first disastrous marriage, I needed an evening out. Now my divorce wasn't final and in my faith, that means no dating. I bent the rule a little in the name of a good cause and decided to attend an American Cancer Society fundraiser singles dance. I didn't date. I just attended. But driving there I made up my mind to dance with anyone that asked me. I figured it should be a fairly innocuous event.
I arrived and had to walk through a wall of smoke to get into the "smokeless" dance, as it was advertised. That should have been my first red flag! I was a little nervous going in and surveyed the room, finding a table uninhabited and planted myself there. It was nice getting all dolled up, a break from the jeans and flannel shirts I had to wear for carpentry school.
Next up was Michael. Michael was nice and tall and muscular ,. . . and young. But, rules must be obeyed. As we were dancing, he asked me how old I was. "Really, Michael? Who raised you? Apparently you were never taught to never ask a woman her age. But because I don't care about such things, I'm 38. How old are you?"
"No, come one, dance with me. It's fine. I don't care."
So we danced and I learned that he was a carpenter himself. He did remodeling. We talked about framing and drywall and 22 oz. waffle head hammers. It was enthralling. Then (duh, duh, duh, duh) he asked me out.
I was flabbergasted. Utterly taken aback. I had not dated in 17 years. I told him I couldn't really date yet, but that he could maybe come to dinner and meet my amazing children. I know now how many single mom dating rules (SMDRs) I broke that night.
After the dance, he walked me to my car and told me he'd see me the next evening at 5:00 and that he had something really important to tell me then.
"Really? Why don't you just tell me now?"
"No. I want to wait. Tomorrow night I'll tell you."
More red flags.
The next day I prepped the kids on the fact that a man was coming to dinner and we cleaned and prepared a nice meal.
5:00. No Michael.
5:30. No Michael.
6:00. No Michael.
7:00. Michael calls. He lost track of time. He'll be there shortly. Click.
8:00. Michael arrives. Dinner is over. The kids are already involved in a movie and have no interest in meeting someone so rude.
"So, Michael. What is it you wanted to tell me?"
"They're here? Who's here?"
"They're here. All around us and they look just like us so we don't know who's us and who's them."
I stifled a laugh. Gracious had departed hours before and slammed the door behind her.
"And by them, I'm assuming you mean aliens?"
"Yes. I know because I've talked to NASA and other agencies and they confirmed."
"So, the guys at NASA found time to talk to a little carpenter from Rochester, NY? That's impressive."
"You're mocking me."
"Yes. I am. There's the door. Lose my number."
"I can't help but notice that one of your children doesn't look like the rest."
I quickly caught on and surmised that he was implying I had been abducted, impregnated by an alien, and given birth to a half-breed.