outsourced and homeless

Another pin pushed into the already well-perforated cushion I call my “love life.”

I run into her at the bottom of the stairs of my condo. She’s walking her little Yorkie puppy. Attractive, dirty blonde, nice body, a nice age for me, kids grown and gone, seems interested.

Things seem to progress nicely. I pick up the little dog (ignoring the urine which I at once feel on my left hand) and the conversation flows naturally. I then ask her into my condo because she expresses in interest in doing so.
Little Yorkie follows us in and everything is good. After awhile she asks if I would like to see her condo which is actually right around the corner – the exact same building in fact. Anyway, things going well and she is offering me coffee or water etc…
The conversation turns to dating, and how hard it is to meet someone. She makes references to creeps on the online dating sites. She then asks whether I am married or have children and I tell her no and no.
She began to talk about her car and how she didn’t like it. She always liked sports cars. So, I mentioned that she would really have liked my old car – a Mazda RX-8. At this, she spilled her coffee all over the kitchen. Unbelievably, she went on to tell me that HER LAST car was a Mazda RX-8. Now, in all the years since that model came out, I have only ONCE seen a woman driving one. Not only did she have one, she had a green one like mine, same year, sport package with spoiler, same interior. The odds of this might be 1/1,000,000. Something about a woman driving a car like that is very sexy to me. The thought that she had the exact same car was surreal and, I suspected she felt the same way.
A pleasant hour of conversation passes and she volunteers to help me put stuff into my car. (I have sold the Kia and purchased a new sports car – more on this in a different post). I thought this to be a nice gesture but was quite blown away when she then volunteered to take a couple of the larger items and put them in her car and take them down to my new apartment. This is at least 1 hour out of her way – a 2 hour round trip from either home or work.
Things wrapped up with my getting her phone number and telling her I would call.

A couple of days later I called her and got one of the coldest, most unmistakable blow offs in my life.

How can one ever make sense of a thing when there are no consistent behaviors or results? It’s like trying to exist in a world where the laws of nature are constantly changing.

I deleted her from the cell phone and hope to avoid running into her again before I move…lest I loose my tongue.