They found each other on Match.com. They had both lost their spouses. Don said he was looking for a good Catholic widow. He was involved with the arch diocese in Oakland. Sue was a recovering Catholic but thought maybe he was a solid guy. She agreed to meet him for coffee. He was good-looking and well-dressed. For their next date they met at the Lafayette reservoir to take a walk around it. Things were going all right.
Don invited her to dinner after his cemetery committee meeting in Livermore. They met in Danville at a new place called Revel. He was waiting for her outside with his back to her.
Sue’s daughter had told her to flirt a little.
“Hey, good looking!” Sue said when she walked up to Don.
Don stood up, put his arm around her, and grabbed her butt.
That was not the reaction she had hoped for. A smile, a gentlemanly act of pulling out her chair for her? Yes, but not a butt grab. They had barely kissed.
The waiter called them inside to their table. After they settled in and ordered, Don announced, “I’ve given my son thirty days to get out of the house.”
Sue thought that seemed a little harsh. The funeral for Don’s wife had only been four months before. She knew Don’s son was still grieving.
“I want you to know that I haven’t been altered,” Don said.
“I don’t need to know that now,” Sue said, almost choking on a bread stick.
What had happened to the nice guy who chatted with her at the reservoir? Sue didn’t have the stomach for the rest of the meal and made an excuse to leave.
The waiter boxed up the entrees with a questioning look. Don quickly paid the bill and then walked Sue to her car. When he got there, she let him kiss her good-bye. Then he gave her an Elvis pelvis move, to show her that he still could? To get her going? All it did was help her jump into the safety of her car all the faster.
Don never called again, and Sue was fine with that.
Couldda Wouldda Didda
Sue got out of there as soon as Don’s intentions became clear. It was their third date, after all, and Don was ready to go.