Dating Horror Story #7

I used to work at an upscale gym on the South Shore of Long Island. I worked at the front desk; not the most glamorous of positions but it gave me the opportunity to exercise for free and to meet cute boys...so, not such a bad deal. Perks, baby. It's all about the perks.

I often gazed at the male members (of the gym) and wondered which one would be my husband. Checking people in, swiping cards and handing out locks gives one lots of free time for daydreaming. One day this man walked in and handed me his card to swipe. His name was Vincent. He was about 6'2" tall, blonde and an absolute Addonis. His body could have been on the cover of any fitness magazine and he certainly could have been on a Calvin Klein billboard if he had wished to pursue that line of work. I used to stare/drool almost instantaneously every time he walked in the door. A Pavlovian response, for sure. Many members of the gym stopped by to chat for a few either before or after their workouts as many people perceive me to be some sort of therapist. I should have been a bartender. ;) Vincent though, was fairly quiet, only saying "hey" as he breezed passed me on his way to keep his taught body in shape, which made him seem all the more mysterious. I would all but undress him with my eyes with every glance (as soon as he turned around, of course- didn't want to give it away).

One day he and I happened to be working out at the same time. I was sitting upright on a weight bench doing curls and he was doing a handstand against the wall doing push-ups. Yes, that's what I said. Ha! It was so impressive and I took that as an opening for dialogue. I asked him what he was doing and he said he only used gravity and his own weight to work his muscles- no machines, no free weights. I expressed my deepest respect for his methodology and our conversation continued. We exchanged phone numbers and went on our merry ways.

He called me later that night and we had a nice talk. He was a little rough around the edges but very sweet and endearing. We made plans to go to dinner that coming Saturday night. He picked me up and we drove to Brooklyn, to a mob-run Italian joint. This was in the days when Gotti still ruled. Dinner was delicious. I had the ravioli al forno- don't ask me why I remember that. I don't even remember what I had for dinner last night. We had a great time. I actually can't remember a word that he said but I think it didn't matter so much. Just staring at him was enough to fill the few hours we had spent together.

Vincent and I continued to date a few more times and each time we enjoyed ourselves very much. After about a month of dating he invited me over his house to go swimming. He lived with his mom and step-father. He had told me that his mother had gotten remarried to a wealthy Jewish man, though Vincent and his mom were both full-blooded Italian and were from a not-so-hot area of Brooklyn. Well, I pulled up to this unbelievably beautiful stucco colonial home built circa 1928. It was just stunning and the pool was lovely as well. It was a gorgeous day, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, you get it. We swam and giggled, made out and flirted. It was truly a dreamy day. Then...his mother came home from work. We knew she was home because she immediately began screaming in our direction from inside the house. She said, "Vincent?!?!?!?! Who is that whore in the pool with you?!" Um, I was flabbergasted. Me? I am probably the nicest girl Vincent had ever dated because I think he even mentioned that. I was shocked and horrified and embarrassed for him as well.

Vincent jumped out of the pool and ran into the house. His mom screamed, "Vincent, tell that whore to get out of my house!" Vincent yelled something indiscernible back and then I heard this sound...THWACK! I stopped breathing for a second and there was a moment of silence. The silence was broken by a sound of sobbing. His mom began crying and then screaming, saying that Vincent shouldn't have hit her and she was going to call the cops. OMG!!! He hit his mom?! Really? Yes, really! Holy crap! I jumped out of the pool using that adrenaline-powered super-human strength , grabbed my purse and shoes and ran to my car as fast as I could. I think I left my clothes there. I sped away, never to return again. Vincent's phone calls went unanswered and I quit my job at the gym soon afterward.