Wayne - from Grumblings of a Chronically Single Woman, by Randi Sherman, the Author of Paula Takes a Risk, Available March 2012

Wayne

I had a great job.  Not only did I get paid, have the respect of my co-workers and fine insurance benefits, I also had an outside line to the world.  Flirting and gossip were just seven numbers away.  Dial nine first. Convenient or not, I was, expected to communicate with a variety of self-absorbed, anal retentive types who actually expected me to conduct business with them. I did, however, have the opportunity to speak with a seemingly normal person named Wayne.  Wayne was an employee of a client.  We spoke on a regular basis.  His reckless attitude about the corporate rules and regulations intrigued me.  Overtime, Wayne told me about his interests and his alternative rock band.  His voice was an alluring raspy whisper.  He always paused and then exhaled as he answered each question.  I couldn’t decide whether it was sensual on or just the early stages of emphysema.

It had always been a fantasy of mine to get involved with an un-conservative, dumb-ass of a guy whom my friends and family would completely disapprove of.  I decided that had to think of a way to get Wayne meet me face-to-face.  During our conversations, I had always been somewhat reserved and conservative. Perhaps he thought I was uptight. One day, toward the end of our conversation, Wayne asked, matter of factly, about my plans for the upcoming weekend.  That was my cue.  I said, “Well, it’s been three weeks since my breast enhancement surgery and now I’m ready to go and try them out.  Do you want to join me?”

Wayne suggested meeting at a “bitchin’” restaurant.  He told me to look for a tall dude with long hair, a nose ring and wearing a “Dead” T-shirt.  Great, I thought.  I hadn’t been out with this caliber of man since I developed standards.

I miscalculated the traffic and arrived at the restaurant early.  Wayne wasn’t there yet.  I went to the bar and sat down with a group of friendly looking people.  We had a few drinks and shared told blind date stories.  As time passed, we started wagering money about what Wayne might look like.  We watched hoards of good looking men come into the restaurant.  None of them was Wayne.

Finally, after about forty minutes, Wayne loped in.  No one had to point him out to me.  I just knew that it had to be him.  He was the most unappealing man I have ever seen.  He was outfitted in rubber thongs and tight faded brown corduroy shorts that were screaming for relief.  The button from his shorts was missing and the proportion limit of the fabric was being tested.  The bottom of his ill-fitting bleached out, “Dead” shirt ended about three inches above the top of his shorts.  His white, flabby stomach emphasized the obvious separation of material.

The hostess took one look at him and motioned for the security guard.  My new friends and I just sat there waiting for the inevitable to happen.  My name was announced over the public address system.  Laughter erupted as the bets were collected.  I entertained the thought of not answering the page.

As I walked toward him, I couldn’t help but notice that Wayne had a wild eye.  One of his eyes was focused on my left breast while the other was staring at the far upper right corner of the room.  His nose ring was encrusted. He also was suffering from a chronic case of acne through which he was attempting to grow a beard.  His face looked, as I would image, the earth must have looked at the beginning of time, when the first saplings broke through the cooling lava.  Then he held out his arms and with an eruption of saliva when he said, “Stho, here I am.”

Once we were seated, Wayne grabbed a napkin and blew his nose so hard that I thought his head would implode.  Then he tossed the used napkin on the table, landing on my silverware.  If his appearance wasn’t enough of a diet aid, the napkin bit did the trick. My appetite completely disappeared.  His contribution to the conversation consisted of multiple bodily eruptions and a story about the time he drank so much that he “nearly puked out a lung.”  I sat there shaking my head in disbelief.  He was, in fact, the most disgusting man alive.

I looked at my watch and decided to cut my losses.  I told Wayne that I had to leave.  He said, “Cool.”  He said that it was nice to meet me but that there wasn’t any chemistry and that he had pictured me differently.

As I walked to my car, I had to laugh to myself because I realized that both my fantasy and the entire contents of head were left crumpled up in a napkin.