Here is my feedback on Marina; I apologize for this email in advance.
On a balmy evening, she wore a bulky sweater and a shawl or scarf over it. I could tell though that she wasn’t slim and was trying to hide her body.
It was a strange date. She went on and on about how fun and interesting I was, and then told me that she met someone 3 weeks ago that she really likes. With her eyes all fluttery, she said seeing him at her door is like Christmas morning. She told me that she felt no chemistry with me. And then after dinner, she wanted to go to the bar and have a drink. I didn’t really want to, but I guess I had nothing better to do at the time. I paid for after-dinner drinks, and she wanted my opinion about
this guy and her sexual intentions with him. I really don’t understand why she went on the date.
Oh, noooo. I need to stress again to these women that they should go out with a man only if they’re open to a new relationship. As for Marina, it sounds like she’s put on weight since I saw her last spring. Nate’s not overly picky, so if he mentioned it, there’s a problem. I’m tossing Marina’s file, and I’ll sneak Nate an extra referral. Don’t tell Gary.
I work on matches for a while. Connie is in the hall and holds up her coffee cup, a question: do I want some? I raise mine and she comes in and gets it.
Alana buzzes me to say that Bob Carpenter is calling and wants to talk to me. A shudder passes through me. I so wish we could be done with this guy, but he just keeps renewing. Deep breath. Might as well get this over with.
I pick up the phone, and he greets me in a tenor voice that doesn’t match a man with a six-foot plus frame. He’s nearly sixty with a boyish face that might make him appear as young as he thinks he looks in his snazzy wardrobe—if it weren’t for all his sun wrinkles. He owns a ten acre spread out in Hemet and is sure this entitles him to date women under thirty-five. His top priority is cup size and whether or not she loves Jesus. In that order.
Now, he’s calling to complain that the airhead bimbo who agreed to date him isn’t returning his calls.
“Marla, I took her shopping and spent almost three hundred dollars,” he says.
I can easily picture him whining to his mommy as a boy...or perhaps still. “Where did you take her, Bob?”
“Oh, we went to Forever 21. I got her some great sexy dresses like the kind I’d want my wife to wear. I want to take her to church.”
From what I gather, his idea of a great marriage is having a stick with tits (AKA titsy-pops) in slutty clothes as she cooks, cleans, and prays out there at his ranch. I can’t imagine how he made so much money in his business. His behavior is so extremely inappropriate.
One day he came to L.A. and took me to coffee at Tuescher’s. As he was walking me back to my office, he was telling me that I was very attractive, and I should wear mini-skirts.
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