Dating adventures, a legend in the making

At least I leave an impression.

Once upon a time I dated a woman.  She had good taste in music.  She had her own motorcycle. We got along pretty well.  I make pretty good company.

I analyzed her musical tastes and made her an awesome mixtape. She loved Robert Earl Keen and Bruce Springsteen. She was very pleased.  It was not hard for me to do.   I enjoy my music.

I was lonely and she was lonely. I think she was falling in love with me, but my mind reading skills are weak. I am patient and in no hurry. There were some red flags.  It takes some time to gain my trust.

I was not yet divorced.  I was still pretty, make that very, naive.

Theresa called one night with a sense of urgency.  She had to come over.  She told me she that she was thinking about sleeping with me.  All good at this point.  But.... she has herpes.
I reassured her and told her that I would need to think about that for awhile.  I really needed time to digest this information and sent her on her way.

After some due diligence, thank you google, I decided that was not something I wanted to deal with.  I let her down as gently as I could.

She was hurt.  That is understandable.  It is tough to be a 50 year old with baggage.  We all have some baggage. I tend to try to hide mine.

I got a nice card from her in the mail.

Then I received some vicious drunken texts.  F bombs away.  Personal attacks.  Theresa, that is fucking scary. I think that puts you in the category affectionately  known as bat shit crazy.

Fast forward three years.

I have been trying to meet with a woman who lives near by, let's call her Linda.  She has an interesting profile and seems sane.  She has befriended me on Facebook. Based on the superficial social media information, I thought we could get along fine.


We are texting back and forth.  Then silence.  Then a strange response.


Linda is best friends with Theresa.  Cincinnati is a damned small town sometimes.


Apparently Theresa still talks about me.  Apparently she still likes me. She regrets sending the drunken texts.  Three years later she has not found anyone nearly as interesting.
She is screwing up my dating adventures. I am a legend in the making