Hello out there. I wrote this around 2006 as a challenge to myself. I set a timer for 15 minutes and had the idea in my head so that part was easy. I used the techniques that I had learned in college about outlining so I would have a clear path: Start, middle and end. So, one boozy and lonely night, I wrote this story. During that year I wrote a couple other stories I will clean up and post here. What are your tips for getting out of a writers block?
To me stories are like photos from the authors brain, what they can’t capture on film is displayed in word. To me photographers and writers are so much alike in their art. What are the stories you tell if you only have 15 minutes to tell them?
If you would like to contribute, please email firstname.lastname@example.org or join me on Facebook at Keenfern Photography. Hope to see you there!
Confessions of a Serial Dater
By: ML Keena
Written: Circa 2006
You all know me…I am the one you can call in the middle of the night to tell me you are horny, oh and drunk. I am the keeper of secrets, the one who watches your purse while you dance, friend to friendless, sister, mother and father, the one who feeds you and listens while you speak. You have passed me on the streets, glanced in my direction and maybe you may have even smiled at me. I am, well, what does it matter, I am anonymous, mild mannered, plain and unnoticeable, but someone that most can relate to and someone that most people know. I harbor a dark, sordid secret almost a sickness. I am a serial dater with two to three victims a week.
My tales of terror begins with a very tall boy. Most serial daters troll bars and clubs. On-line-dating, is my choice. I post ads that make me seem wholesome and dreamy. “Lonely Tonight? Don’t Be!” , read my headline. I posted a photo of myself and waited for my first victim. First dates and first meetings are always exciting. It is the second date that bores me. I anxiously waited for the first victims to climb into my evil web. The first day on the site produced 10 possible victims. Three dates were made. I had a date for Tuesday, one on Wednesday and one Saturday. The excitement of the game was underway. The hunt began.
Date number one had no idea what he was in for that evening. We met in a local brewery. One can never be too prepared at first meetings. Although I had studied the two photos he had emailed me I was shocked when I saw him. He was sitting at the bar sipping his beer. The site of him shook me a bit. Warm drool formed on the corners of my lips. I wiped my mouth with the back of my sweater and took a few deep breaths and walked over to him. I stood behind him for a few seconds inhaling his scent. I then tapped him on the shoulder and said “Hello, I am Jane.” He then turned around and stood up. OMG! He was almost 7ft tall and so very handsome. He had plenty of yummy, squeezable meat on his bones. I could’ve rubbed him down with butter and eaten him up. However, this was a game for me and I could not help but delight in the feeling that I was going out with two more victims this week. We hugged hello and chatted over beers for a few hours. Finally, it was closing time and he offered to walk me to my car. Outside, he hugged me again, and thanked me for coming out. I smiled back and gave him an innocent peck on the cheek. He responded back with another kiss and then another and a grope and a feel and oh my, we should have gotten a room. We made out for a few hours before I told him I had to go home. I told him that I would call him. He said he wanted to see me again. I smiled, waved goodbye and walked to my car. That was exhilarating and made me feel so alive. I had no intention of seeing him again. He did not need to know that. It was 4:15 a.m. as I drove away and the only thing on my mind was the next victim.
The second victim called me at 5 p.m. to confirm our date. We were to meet at Farmer’s Market, a nice, very public place. I arrived at the appointed time, called him and then waited for him front of the Coffee Bean. Minutes later, there he was. I knew then that no matter what he said or did it would go no farther than this. There would be no lust or heavy petting. He was not bad looking. He led me on a walk around the Grove, then we stopped and watched the fountain. I did enjoy that. It was the one warm fuzzy feeling of the night. I threw a few coins in the fountain and then I closed my eyes and wished with all my might. Unfortunately, my wish did not come true as he was still there next to me talking. Finally, he decided that we should go eat at Dupar’s. Dinner was fabulous. The service was excellent. My mind was wandering. I couldn’t stop thinking about the tall boy. His smile, his lips and the way he tasted. Farmer’s Market Boy kept talking as I zoned out thinking about the tall boy. The waitress came and poured more ice tea for me, this snapped me out of the day dream. This is when I noticed the little droplet of water on the tip of his nose. I started talking more about my life, he kept agreeing or relating to it. I could not shake him. This is when I brought out the big guns. I poked my nose as he watched me wipe the booger on my napkin and set it on the table. Still, he kept right on talking. I also, kept talking, talking with my mouth full of food. Finally, I mentioned to him that I have MS and sometimes I fall down. I think that did it for him. She shoots! She SCORES! Luckily, I did not have to fart at the table, but that was the next thing that I was going to do. He seemed uneasy and motioned that dinner was finished. We left the restaurant and for some reason, wait for it, he wanted to walk me to my car. When we got to my car he said, “I have to be honest with you, I don’t like you in a romantic way, but I am sure we could be friends.” I thought he was going to run back to his car. No, he had to go in for the kill. He had the audacity to say, “All I could think about in restaurant was kissing you. Guess that is out of the question?” I had to hold back from laughing out loud, I grinned the biggest grin I could without my face breaking. I told him, “No way, Sorry”. I hugged him good bye and shook his hand, thanked him for the dinner. Sometimes, in the life of a serial dater, not everything goes as planned and the kill is not clean. I got in my car and headed home. It was 10:05 p.m. and the next date was in two days. I have to change my tactics I was still not ready to pull my ad, just yet. There were more victims out there, many more.
Saturday, and my blood was pumping. I had made a few more dates for the following week and I had a date tonight. At 7 p.m. I arrived at the restaurant as we had arranged. I could tell right away that I was going to be ill at some point during the date. I needed to be locked away. This one was decent and not bad looking either. His height was a big plus! But agh, argh, ugh…he is so nice and touchy feely and his kissing skills left something to be desired. I guess the tall boy has ruined that for everybody. I kept thinking back to what a great kisser the tallboy was, not sloppy or messy, just very passionate. Now, I felt like I was being kissed by a puppy. This one was a little too needy and not so confident. I knew that I was going to hurt this one. He started talking about our next date and how pretty he thought my eyes were. I vomited in my mouth just a bit. There was no excitement and I was terribly disappointed. My sickness needed medicine and I made an excuse, and told him that I was not feeling well and that I would call him. My drive home was a release. I knew that I would end spending the rest of the evening trolling the dating sites looking for my next victims.
There I was again, typing in my screen name and password. Searching, preying and…and…I get a text message. “Busy? I would like to see you again if you want.” I did not recognize the number. “No, not right now. Who is this?” Minutes later I got the reply. It was the tall boy. We made plans. He is on the way over. One more taste will not hurt? Will it?