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My mom shot Leo Dicaprio with my shotgun - Part 3 - October 11, 2006

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It was so cute. My mom, on her first ever shotgun blast, one that nearly knocked her over, hit Leo dead on and blew the poster to shit.

"How'd you like that, mom?" I screamed so she could hear me over the ear protection headphones.

"It was fun! Do you have anything else to shoot?" I did. A poster of Ben Affleck that I was holding on to for a special occasion, like a girl or something, I mean a girl other than my mom. You know, a cute, possible girlfriend kind of a girl. She would be the one to blow up Ben, but in lieu of her being around, I let mom blast it. That was a couple years ago, my mom with the gun. She hasn't been up to the farm since. But I did have a girl up this weekend. Before I tell you about it, let me finish reporting my first date with April. It has a direct impact on the girl in VT situation this past weekend.

This was hour number three of our infamous three hour first date walk in the park a few weeks ago.

"Come to Vermont with me for the weekend."

"I can't. I have a dinner party I'm throwing in five minutes."

"You're famous. You don't have to be there."

"But it's my family and friends. I set it up"

"That's exactly why you don't have to and in fact shouldn't be there. Come on, I'll go to Whole Foods and get a bunch of amazing organic supplies while you go downtown and pick up your dogs and I'll pick you up in an hour. By midnight we'll be eating puttanesca in front of the fire with a movie on my couch in Vermont. You'll have your entire own wing. You can go off and do whatever you want, go for walks, go to town, go to the auction in Newton they have every Saturday morning. You don't have to feel obligated at all to hang out with me." She smiled. I could see her mind racing to figure out how she could make it work with all the plans she'd have to cancel, but it was in her which made me really hot for her. I went in for the kill.

"The outlet stores in Manchester? Outlet shoe stores in Manchester?"

"And I'd have my own wing?"

"Absolutely." She paused. The moment of truth. The entire park vanished. The purple and pink sunset back-lit her beautiful long black hair, delicate alabaster face and soft red lips. I could marry this girl if she said yes.

"I can't. It sounds amazing and I always wish I could be the person who says "yes" to an offer like this but I just can't."

"I totally understand." I really did but my heart still sank a little. When would I meet a girl who would just say, "Yes." To it all.

"And I kind of feel like it would be a set up. You know? I've only known you three hours and we'd get up there and..."

"It would be like "Vegas baby?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, in Swingers? The excitement of the impulsive trip to Vegas at midnight, and then three hours later in the middle of the desert when it's one in the morning and you have another two hours ahead of you and the novelty is so gone? 'Vegas baby.'"

"Kind of. Only because I don't know you well enough though. You understand what I'm saying? It's a set up. It could only end badly."

"Or really really well."

"Or really really badly. Why risk it."

"Why not? What's the alternative?"

"A normal second date. I know you think that's really boring."

"No. It's perfect. We'll have a normal second date." I was being as sincere as I could be while being so disinterested in that plan it was hard to move my mouth to get the words out.

We approached the 30 foot stone wall at 104th street that, like a fortress, protects Lower Riverside Park from the rest of the city. We started climbing the uneven, cracked, black granite stairs that used to smell much more like piss before the East Siders, her people, started taking over my neighborhood, the real Upper West Side. Above 96th Street. No Lincoln Center bullshit. Closer to Harlem than Zabars. That's the real UWS. Okay, I'll give you Grey's Papaya and up.

"I love these stairs. I've been climbing them for nearly half a century. I don't know why I've recently started using that term. I probably should keep it at bay for as long as I can, I mean, I'm only 44 but it somehow feels very impactfull. 'Half a century.' I guess when it serves my point. I liked them better when they smelled more like piss."

"I'm really sorry I can't go to Vermont. Thanks for the invitation. I could go in three weeks for Columbus Day weekend."

She thought I was moving too fast by asking her how many times she thought of kissing me on the first date but she was throwing out a long Holiday weekend away together in three weeks? My stomach seized a little with fear.

To be continued ...

Posted by Eric Schaeffer at 1:16 PM

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