The Broke Cop

I had a date last week with a cop. Let’s face it. Ladies love a man in uniform. I personally love a man in his uniform  more when he is 6 foot 4 with a head full of dark hair. I had met him in Toronto several months ago and we both just drifted ways for a bit. Naturally he contacted me again and kept on pursuing me. I was in Toronto on business and let him know I could spare a couple hours of my time for him. (I’m a busy gal, don’t ya know?)

We decided on lunch at Kelseys so we met there. I got dressed up in a  cute black floral summer dress and sandals with a black bow tie to give that “cutesy” appearance. I wouldn’t want him to think I was easy or anything ! As we walked into the restaurant he turned and looked at me and said the most horrifying words strung together into one sentence. “I am broke until Tuesday so you have to buy your own lunch.” It was only  Thursday! OH…MY…GOD! What does one say to that? Not much you can say. The fact that people pleasing is one of my biggest character defects I just smiled and said “I understand” when in reality deep within my soul I was saying to myself  “WHAT…A…LOSER”

I ordered my typical chicken sonoma salad and mocked interest in him. To top off the fact that he was a broke loser he kept answering his texts every five seconds. Apparently there was a big bust that day and he was gonna be in the papers. His partner was back at the station tagging evidence. He was trying to play the Mr. Big Shot Cop role. I wasn’t buying it.

Mercifally  the phone rings to interrupt our lame attempt at conversation and he picks up. He listens in for a couple minutes and  throws around a couple ok  and uh-uh’s then speaks. “I can come right back to the station to help you tag the evidence..it’s not a problem, I’m not busy right now” If he was a loser before in my eyes he is even worse of a loser now. He doesn’t have any money to buy lunch and he is willing to just leave me on  a date he isn’t even paying for. Wonderful. This date has gone from a really bad date to the worst date I have ever had. And there have been some bad ones, believe me. The whole time he is talking to his partner on the phone I have a little jingle-like mantra running threw my head. It is to the tune of “Just Keep Swimming” from Finding Nemo. “What a loser, loser, loser…” I find humming the mantra in my mind makes the rest of the unbearable date go by at a  rapid pace.

We part ways in the parking lot and he gets a very business like hug from me and my usual “I’ll text you, don’t text me” comment.  Ah, the broke cop has made my day at The Beach with Spicolli seem like a trip to Paris. I sure can’t wait for my next date. Maybe I can just pick up a hitchiker along the highway and have more luck!

A Day at the Beach with Spicolli

Note to self: Before you give a guy your number and make a beach date do 2 of two things 1. Have him stand up from behind the bar you met him at so you can see whether he is 5 foot 4 with a hyperextended back due to beer belly. 2. Make sure he didn’t star in the 1980s classic Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

   I was having Tapas at a local restaurant a month ago and as I went to the bar to pay my bill due to the lack of service on the slutty waitresses part I noticed a good looking surfer type at the bar. Good looking is all I need to walk over and say hello.  There he was, blonde and tanned. I rush right over. “I feel like you should be on the beach in Hawaii with a surf board in your hands” I tell him, never one to screen my thoughts before I blurt them out. He introduces himself and we banter for a few minutes. He tells me he loves my Native dreamcatcher feather earrings, they are very “spiritual”. I’m sold right there. An ugly homeless guy could walk up to me and play the flute and I would fall in love.So we arrange to tentatively hang out sometime in the next week.

   After a busy two weeks I have the Monday of the long weekend free so I am going  to the beach with my ultra amazing friends J and M. They are a couple and have an adorable yappy Pomeranian who is prone to stealing your pillow while on the beach. I hope they have left him at home today.

I arrive to his house and he stands from behind the kitchen counter to greet me. He is five foot nothing. GREAT. I have a 6 foot four minimum requirement. As we chat and I watch him I am getting impatient fast. He moves slower than a sloth. Somehting is wrong. Please note this guy is supposedly a $75 dollar an hour personal trainer yet he doesnt have the strength to cut his slab of disgusting cheddar cheese.

  “Want some?” he offers. Umm no thanks i want to go to the fucking beach before sunset I think. He is finally ready after a half hour and we hop in his car and go. He tells me a story about how he went to a concert recently. “I smoked whatever they were passing around, got so drunk I crawled to my sister’s van at 10pm and passed out in front of it”. Just fucking great. A forty four year old alcoholic. Add him to my ever growing list of drunken 4o something exes. This is gonna be a fun day. After we park he pulls some beer out of the cooler. “I have to hide these in my towel, you can’t bring beer onto the beach anymore” I am mortified beyond belief at this point.

  We arrive and I make the introductions. After a while I huddle with J and M in the water. They agree that a 44 year old sneaking beer onto the beach is a very bad sign. We agree that he is not coming to dinner with us and I will make an escape route story. Before I make my escape we all go for a long swim out to the pier. He lags behind badly and just stands on the pier looking like a stoned surfer who.. well.. has just smoked too much Hydro. “Thats not fair.. you have floatation devices… you have an advantage” he shouts to me from a very far distance, referring to my oversized breast implants. Please keep in mind this is a “personal trainer” who is almost ready to drown in Lake Erie.

   After he drops me off and I get out of his car he goes for the awkward first date kiss. I turn my cheek and give him the “don’t text me I’ll text you” line. I meet up with J and M for dinner.

  “You know” my friend M begins. “If they have a Fast Times at Ridgement High reunion, he can play Spicolli”. I practically spit out my water. I disn’t see the resemblance before. A tanned, bleached blonde washed out stoner. Yup I just spent the day at the beach with jeff Spicolli.

  The next day I am at Starbucks sitting on the john and hear the familiar ring of my Blackberry BBM. It is my friend M and he is being a joker. There’s a picture of Jeff Spicolli. It is a good thing I was already on the john because I laughed so hard I peed. If you don’t have friends in your life like the ones I have then I suggest you get some. And if you have never spent the day on the beach with Spicolli. I suggest you keep it that way!