Dating Horror Story #3 (with some back story)

I was 20 years old. I was living the high life. I had never loved school but mom said college was a must so attended Syracuse University for a year, froze my butt off and came running home. I then headed to AMDA (American Musical and Dramatic Academy) in NYC where I did very well and I graduated and got an agent who told me I would be a soap opera star. I auditioned for a whole bunch of commercials and TV shows including All My Children and I was considered for the part Sarah Michelle Geller eventually won (damn that SMG) but only got one job in a Fedex commercial. I didn't realize being an overnight success in the entertainment business actually took 10 years so I did what any red-blooded actress does; I became a waitress.

I was the most god-awful waitress. I spilled things on customers (constantly) and forgot who wanted more bread and who needed a menu; I placed orders incorrectly and would forget when people said things like, "Can you make sure it's decaf? I have a heart condition." The fact that no one died while in my care is, well, lucky on my part. Once a woman asked me for more gravy and instead of pouring it on her prime rib I poured it directly onto the lap of her blue silk dress. I swear. I was just so nervous!

I was waitressing and going out to Mulcahy's, Chauncey's, Paddy McGee's and the like after work every single night with Janine Murphy. We were trying to meet men to save us from ourselves. Janine and I didn't realize at the time how much self-esteem we got from working and being self-sufficient. Anywho, one night (yes, I said "one night") we met this group of older guys who were extremely wealthy, educated, polished and extremely attractive. The best-looking guy exchanged numbers with me. Oh, my. He looked like Ron Reagan Jr. except much, much cuter. But the hair was equally as swoopy and adorable. He flew planes as a hobby. He, um, owned his own plane. He was fun to talk to and well, needless to say, I was more than excited to go out with him. Did ya hear about the plane? Wow.

We made plans for that Saturday night. I had to work the lunch shift but I knew I could run home, do a quick change and be ready for him to pick me up in time for us to make the movie we had planned to see so I, of course, accepted.

I raced home from work, showered, did hair and makeup as if possessed by the powers of some ungodly being. I looked good. :-) But now- what to wear? I had forgotten I had thrown all of my sexy little T-shirts in the wash. Oh, my. When I got to the laundry room I realized that I had forgotten to put my clothes in the dryer. Literally every summer shirt I owned had been sitting in the washer for...gulp...was it two days? Three? It was August. We had no air conditioning. It was humid. I had no time for these thoughts. He was coming in 10 minutes! My dream man! Must not be late! I quickly picked one shirt and threw it in the dryer. I ran up, brushed my teeth, put on a pair of hot jeans and high heeled sandals and raced back down to get my shirt, which was still wet. And with all of this running around with no air conditioning I was sweating like a wrestler trying to make weight.

The doorbell rang. I wiped the sweat from my nose and took a deep breath. I opened the door. He looked so handsome and was so polite to me and my mom. He opened the car door for me. We started driving and I started...reeking!!! Oh my God. I smelled so bad; like a rotten, stinking, dying, moldy carcass. Like feet mixed with death. I began sweating more because I was so nervous. My face was drenched. He asked me if I was okay. I mumbled as I opened my window and began fanning myself. Wait- fanning made it worse. Oh my God. He didn't know I didn't smell like this all the time. He only met me when he was drunk in a crowded bar. He thought this is how I smell when I sweat. I was so mortified that I couldn't even say one word to him. This is the man I'm supposed to marry and I'm speechless AND odiferous.

Well, I never got up the courage to tell him what happened and he went on throughout his life thinking that I stink. He never called me again. So, Mike Boosin, if you're out there, for the record, I don't have B.O. There, I said it. I feel better now.