My Cartoon Life

Once upon a time, there was . . . . . . . me, Amy Lynn Gable.  Don’t delude yourself, this isn’t a fairytale nor a pity party.  I find humor in the random acts of weirdness that I call my life - especially in the dating department since becoming a single mom.

I wouldn’t say I’ve lowered my standards in men as I’ve gotten older, merely revamped them.  For example, when I was a hot young thing, the guy had to have beautiful white straight teeth.  Now, they just have to have the majority of their teeth.  No, seriously.  I went on two dates in a row where they had no front teeth.  Yes, that is my life.  Tip of the week:  If you're on a dating website, and they are smiling with their mouth closed, it's code for “I don’t have a dental plan”.  Used to I wanted them to have ambition; now I just prefer they don’t live in the basement of their mother’s house.  It’s all about priorities.  In retrospect, maybe on-line dating shouldn’t have even existed in my list of priorities.  I may be a slow learner, but let me tell you when you meet the right teacher everything becomes clear.  My instructor was Ken James.  Yes, it’s his real name.  His identity doesn’t deserve to be hidden.  Plus, I’m quite sure he doesn’t read, so it’s not like I’m going to have a lawsuit on my hands.  Thanks to Mr. James I finally got it through my thick, though prettily blonde-streaked, skull that my Mr. Right is not going to be found via the internet.

He seemed wonderful on the computer and phone.  We laughed; he asked questions about me and seemed to listen.  I got that champagne bubbly feeling in my stomach when he'd text me.  He seemed to meet the prerequisites:  1. Spoke English 2. Hated Sponge Bob 3. Never been in jail for an extended length of time, and  4.  Thought I was brilliant. 

With all this going for him, of course I agreed to go out with him.  I got my sister to babysit, bought a new outfit, and even shaved my legs.  He wouldn’t tell me where we were going.  It was a surprise.  Who doesn’t like surprises?  Hmmmm.  I’ve come to learn (remember I’m a quick study) that in my life there isn’t a whole lot of “prize” in surprise.  Maybe that’s the reason for the spelling.  Sigh . . .



And thus, the story begins. 



Ken picks me up in a working vehicle.  He gains one major point with that one.  He resembles his online picture, an oddity in itself.  Any nervousness dissipates as we laugh and talk without awkward pauses on the drive to the mystery location. 

“Okay, we’re almost there.  Close your eyes, Amy Doll.”  He almost seems giddy. 

Amy Doll? We've already moved on to pet names?  I smile and play along, covering my eyes.  This has to be good.    I feel the car slow down; I can tell we’re in a busy place.  A quiet picnic on a deserted mountain top is crossed off the list of possibilities.  The truck stops.  Ken's laughing with excitement.  He takes my hand from my eyes, holding it between his hands. 

“You can open them now.”

Please God, please God, let this be good.  Don’t let his mother be standing waiting for us to join her for coffin shopping.

With a drum roll for a heartbeat, I open one eye and then the other.  I turn my head to look at this man beside me.  All I can think to say is, “Did you even read my profile on the dating site?”

I’m stunned at the look of pride shining on his face.  It’s as if he’s just received the Noble Peace Prize instead of Obama.

“Baby, I know you said you hate the zoo, but I think you just need to experience it with the right person.  Trust me.  You’ll love it.  I bet by the time we’re through you’ll want to get a membership so you and your son can come all the time.”

Yes, God.  Thank you.  This is just what I wanted.  A man that wants to change my mind about things I feel passionately about.  And better yet, thanks for throwing in that thing about what I should do with my son.  We have a winner here.

My mouth is upturned into what may pass as a smile, while my eyes are shooting daggers that I hope in someway make him start convulsing.  Find your sweet voice, you can do this.

“Yeah, I’m sure this'll be great.  After all, I’ve probably misjudged it my entire life.  I’m sure not all zoos are crowded, hot, smelly, with all the good animals hiding.”

He laughs. 

Sure, I was joking.  Sarcasm gets lost on the best of them.

Ken comes around, practically skipping, and opens the door for me.  The gesture releases a bit of my hostility.  Grabbing my hand, we walk toward the entrance.  I have to admit the scenery is breathtaking.  Azaleas are in bloom, and the landscaping is phenomenal.  The attention to detail beckons guests to explore the glories of nature and animals within this sanctuary.  For a second, I almost find myself looking forward to it.  I admit I do love the pandas.  I give Ken a real smile and squeeze his hand as we approach the ticket booth. 

“That'll be $12.50,” the pimply-faced attendant says without even looking at us.

Ken leans closer into me.  “Do you think you could get this?  I forgot to get cash before I picked you up.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me?”