I read online about the annual Lazy Daze Arts and Crafts Festival held this weekend in nearby Cary, North Carolina. It would feature nearly 300 artists from across the country gathered for the juried craft show celebrating the "Lazy Daze" of summer." I now recall memories that I'd pushed down from one year ago.
At that time, I was at the two-year mark of online dating. I'd gone through quite a few "toads," as I'd affectionately referred to the guys I'd met through several dating sites. Most had been one-and-done-meet-up dates. A few, I'd seen a couple of times. And the toad I'd gotten to know the best, had been an on-and-off relationship over a period of seven months. By this time last year, I was down to one guy whom I'd met once for drinks. There was enough interest that I agreed that I'd go out with him the following weekend.
I'll say his name was Mike, even though I'd have a hard time now of being sure of that. He said it would be nice for us to spend time together on Saturday. On Friday he called to discuss a plan.
"My friends asked me if we could join them tomorrow at the Lazy Daze festival," he said, explaining they were a couple he'd known for a while. "Would that be okay with you?"
I liked that he asked me before telling them we'd be there.
"Sure, that sounds good," I responded. "I've been wanting to go to the Crazy Days Festival for a while."
He chuckled, "It's not Crazy Days. It's Lazy Daze."
"Oh, yeah," I responded. Just like me to mess that up, I thought.
I agreed to drive to his house that was closer to the festival, then ride with him there. Parking would be limited. I usually didn't ride with a guy in his car so early in getting to know him--not in this new era of dating. Back when I was young, we didn't hesitate to ride with a guy in his car on a first date. When you met a man online, you didn't have the same knowledge you had when you knew him from your community. It was safer to drive yourself to those early meet-up dates; then you had a way to quickly escape!
I arrived at Mike's townhome community at eleven and we headed for Cary. He'd worked and lived in that area for years and I assumed he'd know the best route. But soon, he turned into a neighborhood, that I was thinking must be a cut-through street. He looked confused.
"Ummm, guess this isn't the right way," he said, and then navigated out of the neighborhood. After a couple more wrong turns, we arrived to the crowded downtown streets. Mike drove into a parking lot that had a sign stating visitors would be towed; another sign pointed toward festival parking. I thought maybe he hadn't seen them, so I told him we couldn't park there.
"I'm not worried about that," he said. "Let'um tow me."
We walked across the street to the booths of artists and entered the flow of the crowded stream of festival goers. The mid-day heat and humidity were already oppressive.
Ambling along, stopping occasionally to view artists' works, Mike bumped into me a couple of times. He didn't say anything, he didn't take my hand like he was trying to be close to me. When he moved ahead, I noticed his gait, his walk, was a little unsteady---as if he had problems with his balance. He hadn't mentioned any type of medical problems in our conversations-- something senior daters were more likely to bring up.
"I don't see my friends so I think we should go ahead and eat," he said. "They're always late. I'm not waiting for them."
We agreed on a food vendor and got in line. I stepped up first to order my gyro and lemonade. I couldn't believe the lemonade alone was nine dollars. Mike had said something about it being 'highway robbery' but there were limited choices and I was getting a headache from thirst. I pulled out my money to pay, and he didn't stop me. Then he stepped up to the counter and ordered his food. The teenage girl behind the counter, took his money for his sandwich, and soon handed him his order. Mike picked up a cup of lemonade and I looked at him in disbelief as he started walking away. He didn't pay!
He kept walking and the owner of the food truck, who'd been cooking, yelled out, "Hey you, come back and pay for that!"
Mike shook his head and went back and slapped his nine dollars down on the counter, muttering about the price being ridiculous. He walked back to where I stood in the shade. There were no places to sit, so we plopped down on the street curb. We ate in silence, watching the people who passed. After we finished, I tried to make conversation, commenting on some of the paintings and pottery of nearby booths. Then I said I wondered where his friends might be, thinking maybe it would be more pleasant if they joined us. Mike had minimal response and just sat there watching the crowd. We hadn't been there two hours and I was exhausted--from the heat and from trying to figure out Mike.
Eventually, after we'd rested in the shade, he was ready to leave. I got up and he tried to get up. After several unsuccessful attempts, I stood in front of him, bending down and offering him my hands. Trying as hard as I could to give him a pull, it wasn't enough. A man sitting nearby came over and helped. Once to a standing position, Mike brushed the grass and dirt off his shorts and with a jerky walk, started forward.
What is going on with him, I thought. I followed him at a close distance, thinking he could fall and feeling responsible for this man who was a mystery. I remembered then that the first time we met that past Tuesday, unlike all other men I'd met at a restaurant, he'd already seated himself at the bar; most would wait and choose a place to sit with their date. I didn't see him walk in and sit on the stool. I'd had less chance to observe his gait.
"I'm ready to go. That okay with you?" he asked, walking toward the parking lot.
"Sure, but what about those people we were supposed to meet?"
He pulled over to the side and quickly texted the couple. "I'm not worrying about them. They're not that much fun anyway."
We got to the parking lot and I felt relieved. A woman wearing a volunteer shirt with an official look on her face, glared at us as we approached Mike's car.
"Sir, you weren't supposed to park there. It clearly says that on the sign."
"Well I did, so there!" he responded and made a sweeping gesture of nonchalance with his hand.
At last, we were safely inside the car, no more walking through the crowd, wondering what would happen next.
It took a long time to get to his house, with the Saturday traffic and one wrong turn. When we finally turned into Mike's neighborhood I was relieved. Driving down the street, we passed a child's lemonade stand. On a poster board sign in large magic marker print, "Lemonade $1.00." Mike turned around and pulled up beside the little girl's business--her mother close by helping with her transactions.
"You still have lemonade?" he asked. "It sure would be good in this heat."
He smiled at her and was the most relaxed I'd seen him all day.
"Yes," she said, nodding her head.
"I'll take two," Mike said and reached in his pocket for money.
She brought him a cup, which he handed to me, then she gave him a second cup.
"Keep the change," he said, handing her the bills.
We drove the short distance to his home. I'd thought he might make some comment about his balance, some hint as to what was going on. At our age, mid-sixties, it could be as simple as "I need to work on my balance." I didn't expect, or want, him to tell me his medical history. But I did expect at least a mild apology for his abrupt behavior and periods of awkward silence. As a nurse, it left me with so many questions and an uneasy feeling for him. Thinking about it later, I realized he'd parked in that lot because he wouldn't have to walk but across one street to the festival; there was no evidence that he had a handicapped sticker for his car.
After that, our interaction was limited to a phone call and a couple of texts. I'd already planned to discontinue my dating site subscriptions when they expired at the end of August. I was tired of the process, and that day with Mike, had added to that feeling. I was even more certain that I needed a break from the online dating world of ups-and-downs, the Crazy Days of dating in this new era.
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