Consume With Caution

Dear Neighbors:

I'm sitting in my favorite chair with my feet up while a gluten-free lasagna bakes in the oven. My stomach is growling, but I'm not going to take it out early. Cooking with lasagna I have to buy in a health-food store made me think about getting back into dating again. I'm going to have to give the gluten-free indoctrination speech to any man who wants to feed me. I hope it isn't a turnoff, but then again, I don't want it to be a turn-on, either.

lasagna is out of the oven

Handi-Chasers
These do-gooders are only attracted to women with problems. If there isn't a problem he can solve, a credit card bill to pay or a distinct limp he can either heal or prod, he's not interested. I have, so far, met two Handi-Chasers.

The first was named Steve and he was the nicest guy ever. I met him when I was a year away from a hip replacement (I was only 34 when I had my hip replaced). I was walking with a cane and not exactly thrilled about it. Imagine trying to feel attractive when your uprightedness depends on a cane. It's not easy.

Our first date was at Dave & Buster's at Ontario Mills. We had a blast! We had lunch, played games, and he asked me to go to Disneyland with him the following weekend. I had to explain that I couldn't walk around the park, even with a cane. Steve was so nice about it. He insisted on getting a wheelchair for me, and he had no complaints about pushing it for the entire day. Trust me on this, pushing a wheelchair all day is not easy. I suppose the consolation prize was that Disneyland's policy on wheelchairs is that the handi-guests go to the front of the line.

The only creepy thing about Steve was his neverending interest in my hip. He constantly asked me questions about it -- did it hurt all the time (pretty much), have you thought about getting a wheelchair (oh, hell no), what about sex (if you'd shut up, maybe you'd find out)...on and on and on. The wheelchair seemed to turn him on. He was all over me. No, we never went there. I was concerned he'd insist on having sex in a wheelchair.

After a couple of months, he went Born Again and disappeared into the Harvest.

I could just end it here and go eat some lasagna...

Then there was a guy I'm going to call R. I started seeing R about four months after Steve. He didn't show much interest in my hip, and that was a relief. We went out to dinner, went bowling (not easy, but I could finally blame my scores on something other than my ineptitude), and got a slow start on the other stuff. R was a really bad kisser. The only way I can explain it is to say that he seemed to do his own thing with little or no awareness that I was there.

Note to self: get the word out that if one doesn't know what to do with one's tongue, it is perfectly acceptable to keep it in one's mouth and wait for instructions.

Instead of being patient and understanding, R was kinda pushy. It didn't take long before it was clear that sex was out of the question for the time being. At least it did to me. Somehow, R thought I should ignore the pain.

Seriously?

That's it. Time for lasagna!

D