Dating with Grandma

"It's time to get back out there, you know." I looked up from my shrimp quiche in mortified surprise.

"But, grandma..."

"I know you think spending all this time with your family is wholesome, but its not. At your age I was married with three children and a baby on the way."

I stared at her confusedly, not sure if this scenario was something to envy or a cautionary tale. "I haven't really been much into it lately."

"Well, egads, no one's into it until they are." she smacked her hand down on the table expressively, causing the cream and sugar packets to jump in their respective containers

I toyed with my quiche thoughtfully, and then leaned forward to whisper, "Every time I get involved with a man, I get hurt."

Grandma dismissed this with a wave of her hand. "Wrong men."

"Well, how do you tell? If there are any right men they blend in perfectly with the wrong ones."

"You hafta be prepared for them, girl! You hafta know how to play the game." My grandmother's eyes glearmed with the light of secret knowledge as she clutched her mug of steaming mocha. "Too many young women have it in their heads to be easily pleased and easily pleasing. They just don't understand. This isn't a contest to crown the next Pollyanna, you have to be willing to dole out a headache or two. Be stubborn. Be inconsistent if you feel that way. It isn't your job to be polite. Give them the idea right from the start that there will be NO NONSENSE TOLERATED. A smart man will admire you for it; plus, it weeds out the bad ones."

I looked at my grandmother dubiously, suspecting that her exposure to the young men of today was rather limited. She smiled back at me, the benign smile of a kindly shaman. "So you want me to go on dates to find someone to fight with?"

"No, no." She sighed. "Smart ladies don't fight, they simply brook no argument." I thought over my past several relationships. I had not just brooked arguments, I had rivered and oceaned them. Mystified I asked, "How on earth do you communicate with men and not argue? They don't understand hardly anything."

"They feel the same way about us." she said. "That's okay. You don't have to understand a man, darling. But you absolutely must command his respect. Without respect there's only heartbreak."

I pondered these things while she went to the lady's room. I wasn't sure I understood the advice being given. Somewhere inside there seemed to be the old "Why buy the cow if you can get the milk for free?" idea, but I sensed there was more to my grandma's advice. Maybe this was her way of saying date but do not compromise yourself in the pursuit of love. I could dig that. I'd been compromising my way to broken hearts for a couple of years now.

I decided to begin seeing people, the first was a local insurance broker with a fancy car. On the way to dinner, he pulled over at a beach overlook and tried to give me a feel-up. I had to literally shove him off me. I called my grandmother from the restaurant and she sent her friend to come pick me up at the restaurant. He drove me to her house where I swept past the anxious old lady, murmuring 'Wrong man' shakily, before collapsing on a love-seat. This was my first attempt and I felt sure, my last for a good decade or so.

"What happened?"

"He tried to show me a good time for the appetizer."

"Darling!" My grandmother was shocked. "Where did you find this cretin?"

"A friend of a friend..." I waved my hand. It was actually the friend of a friend of a co-worker, but I felt foolish enough.

"Always drive yourself on the first date."

"Point taken." I stood up and turned on the television. My grandma seemed to sense the need to establish distance between myself and the horrible evening, so she graciously left me alone until morning.

The next day I woke up after ten in the morning having sobbed myself to sleep around three a.m.. A knock on my door and the smell of coffee propelled me into the kitchen. Sitting around my grandmother's table were her two dear friends, Rose and Lucille. The three ladies sat, looking at me, and I had the feeling of a young corporal coming late for the inspection. "Good morning" I got out, and the three ladies smiled politely. I took a took a seat next to Lucille, across from grandma.

"You know Rose and Lucille, don't you honey?" my grandma asked. "I called them over so that we could brainstorm a little bit about getting you ready for the dating game."

I made the gargling sound of an innocent prisoner receiving a life sentence, but stopped when I caught Rose staring at me intently with her shrewd, periwinkle blue eyes. These three ladies were nothing if not formidable.

Lucille cut in with her soncy, jovial tone, "We all want the best for you, honey. Sometimes a girl needs a little help." She put her hand on my arm and I tried to smile casually as I scoped out the nearest exit. A fast dash through the garage entrance, and maybe if the local transit were working... oh, if only I were wearing more than a bathrobe.

"We all heard what happened last night." Rose whispered. "You always take your own car, honey. He could have been a rapist or a murderer."

"I think he was just horny." I said, and then hid behind my coffee mug to escape the six worried eyes staring out at me.

Lucille cleared her throat. "Here's our list." she pushed a piece of paper across the table at me. "These are the absolute must-knows for any girl about to embark on dating."

I stared at my grandma in a mute appeal to be rescued but she just smiled and nodded her head encouragingly. I picked up the list.

1.Drive your own car
2.Carry Mace
3.Do not dress in such as way as to confuse or disorient the man.
4.Meet in a public place.
5.If you are uncertain about the character of your date, request that a chaperone accompany you. If he refuses to date you with another person present, dump him.
6.Master the art of basic self-defense before being alone with your date
7.Do not enter the residence of a single male before first meeting his family
8.Do not hesitate to question his alcoholic tendencies and his views on recreation drugs on the first date. (You do not want to pursue a relationship with a substance abuser)
9.Do not 'go away' with any person unless you are exclusively committed and have exchanged test results from health screenings.
10.Allow yourself time to get to know your date. Enjoy each stage of the relationship as it progresses naturally. DO NOT RUSH.

I looked up, blinking. "Chaperone? Did Jane Austin sign off on this? I don't see anything about a second petticoat."

I saw the disappointed looks around the table, so I hastily continued, "Some of this is very good advice though, thank you for thinking of me."

"I think you should try it out. All of it." My grandmother said. "However you have been dating isn't working for you, darling. Even you said that all you do is get hurt. How bout you try it our way for one year, and if you haven't met a nice man you can go back to how you were doing it before?"

I smiled wanly, "My method has been to avoid any contact with men outside the grocery store."

"That doesn't sound like much fun." Lucille smiled. Lucile has iron gray hair and about 5' 9" when she stands upright. I always get a feeling of home-grown strength from her. It is an aura I wish to emulate.

"So go show us what you wore last night." said Rose, "Your grandma thinks it was part of the problem."

"What?" I was outraged at this. "I didn't ask him to put his filthy hands on my body. It isn't my fault he completely blew it from the very start."

"No, you're right," said Lucille, "it was his fault for thinking you were like that. But clothes send a message, and a callow chap will use any 'in' for an 'in' you know."

Mollified I walked back to my bedroom and got my clothes from the night before.

"Oh no, no, no." they chittered as I held them up. It was a short black skirt, a sleeveless top, silk pantyhose and nice leather pumps. "What?!? This isn't exactly street walker attire. I thought I looked nice."

"Nice, but... risque."

"No."

"Look, darling, the sight of your legs told him what he wanted to hear. You don't need to show off your wares. Enlist good tailoring, make them use their imagination."

I cocked my head at my grandma. "Are they really all that hopeless, men?"

"Not all. But they're men, darling. Lets see what kind of outfit we can find you for a nice first impression."

Over the course of that afternoon I shopped with three women who had an inordinate fondness for sailor suits. I was grateful that they did not approach me with too wide a selection of polyester. I did have to turn down an awful lot of lilac. Lilac is not my color. We compromised on a nice royal blue cotton dress, cinched at the waste that flared becomingly and came down past the knee. It was a fashion evocative of another time, but the color and the cut made it right for modern wear. I also found a pretty quilted silk jacket in earth tones that would look very chic with jeans or black pants. Rose was a little dubious that it might be too 'artsy' but grandma settled it, saying that the jacket was me, and me (my personality, not my legs) is what should be on display to nice, young men. They made some gentle suggestions regarding my hair, but I headed them off at the pass and allowed them instead to show me, in turn, how to best wield a handbag in a case of emergency. Lucille was particularly adept at this. With a snap of her wrist she clocked the branch off a young birch tree in Rose's garden. Rose was not impressed, but I was.

"How do I do that?"

Lucille gave me a quick run-down of technique, and then inspected my handbag. "You're going to want something a little more substantial. Leather, maybe. With a big wallet. A big wallet inside a small handbag is like an ornamental pillow with a brick inside."

I want to be just like Lucille when I grow up.

The next few weeks were slow moving weeks wherein no one asked me out, and no one came forward with a probable horror to match me up with. It was my grandma who provided a likely contender. I guess my dating training made the rounds in her local church group, and grandma managed to get the phone number of another lady's grandson. I was a little shy. "Couldn't you have given my number to her to give him?"

"I can never keep track of your latest cell-phone." she said, handing the number over. I called him up two days later, praying silently that he wasn't some sort of freak show.

"Kevin."

"Hi?" I squeaked.

"Kevin, here. May I help you?"

"My grandma gave me you phone-number...." Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh.

"Ohh! Yeah, Nana told me about you." I said thank you to the patron saint of awkward phone calls.

We set a date for that Saturday. Me and Kevin. Kevin and me. I clutched my handbag with the list tucked in a pocket of my large wallet. The more I had read it and talked it over with my grandmother's friends, the more sense their advice made. Respect and protection of the self seemed to be the forerunners to their doctrine. I kinda wish I'd thought of it sooner.

Its been eight months now. I haven't found the one I'll marry, but I've had a nice time. No scars, no injuries, a friend or two and just a little bit of lilac. There isn't anyone for me to come home to at this point, but I feel cared for nonetheless; because I'm taking good care of myself (with help from grandma).

I still spend a lot of time with grandma, though Lucille and Rose often join us. As they put it, I still have a lot to learn.