Best ‘worst date ever’ story!

Here is a Challenge to all single women over fifty – Find the ‘Best worst date ever’ story!!  

With every year that passes, I am more inspired than ever to share my ‘worst date ever’ story. In fact, this ‘worst date ever’ is so horrible it made all my other ‘creepy’ dates seem like dream dates!

Rob was late. He didn’t seem the type to be late as he had the military hair cut and body stature. He also had returned my call to confirm the time and directions to the restaurant so now had my cell phone number. (Oh Oh) My three friends and I had met Rob a few nights earlier at a local nightclub my friends insisted we go to continue celebrating a birthday. Rob was standing, alone, watching the band play and we happened to find a spot directly beside him. After a few moments, we started talking (yelling into each others ears) and after a few more moments my friends found a table and I asked him to join us. He was happy to be included.

Rob was visiting Cabo San Lucas for the first time (I live in Cabo) and told me a hooker had propositioned him on the walk over from his hotel. He was proud how smart he was to only have a few hundred pesos on him and leave his wallet at the hotel. He wondered how he was singled out and I fake laughed thinking this was his idea of humor. He asked me how I ended up living in Cabo and I yelled ‘long story’ not wanting to share anything about myself.

Throughout the hour of loud music (he nursed only one beer) and two dances later, he revealed into my ear that he was divorced, retired, has two awesome grown up sons, got his pilots license at 60, has all the ‘toys’ including a Harley, motorhome, ATV’s, and a fishing boat.  He loved to snow ski and golf especially since he has two new knees.  (OMG he is tall, kind of handsome, in my age range, active and has everything on my ‘next husband must have list’) He asks me if I want to go golfing and I accept, happy with myself for putting myself ‘out’ there.

He wondered what was the appropriate way to reach me and as I was thinking this over (not wanting to give my cell number out to a complete stranger) he wrote his name and phone number on a drink coaster asking me to call him with golf details.

A few days later I realize I could not devote any time to golfing so called him asking if he wanted to do lunch instead and he was happy with that plan.

As I am always on time, I waited at the restaurant for 15 minutes when my phone buzzed.   Rob was terribly upset and apologetic that he walked to the wrong restaurant across town, had a frustrating time trying to call my Mexican cell phone, (normal) and to please tell him again how to find me.

When we finally met up, he was sweating like crazy after his extensive walk through town in the hot sunshine.   He was out of breath and quite awkward.    When the waiter appeared with menus he said he wasn’t feeling that well and ordered water and a salad.  (He is 6’3 and fit) I stayed away from having a margarita or wine (smart girl) and ordered a limonada and pork tacos.

Rob’s first question to me was, ‘Tell me the long story’.

I have a short readers digest version of how I moved to Cabo for a one-year adventure, in the summer of 93’ with three small kids, healing a broken heart from being dumped by my husband of 13 years.   Then I proceed on saying how I met Mr. New Yorker who raised my kids, loved me like crazy and died a few years ago.   (I always hate revealing this part)  With a stern look, he was paying close attention (while still sweating) and said ‘what killed him?’

I said, ‘cancer’.  He nodded.

Cheerfully I say, ‘So, I hope you are having fun here in Cabo?  What did you do the last two days?’ He said some scuba diving but mostly he stayed in his room trying to shake off being unwell. I am now wondering if he has the flu and if should even be sharing a table with this man not wanting to catch whatever bug he has.

Unprompted he started telling me a story about his ex-wife’s Mother who belonged to the Hemlock Society in San Francisco, California, a right to die club, and asked me if I had ever heard of this? I said no wondering where he was going with this.

He carried on, methodically detailing that his Mother-in-law was very ill and wanted to die with dignity where she could take some strong drugs and then put a bag over her head and suffocate herself. He quickly said it is illegal to assist a suicide.

I inhaled sharply and said ‘Whoa, that is dark and disturbing.’  (WTF a bag over her head?)

He went on to say he was certain the she was murdered by his Father-in-law who wanted her dead for the money. Rob was allowed to read the coroners report and yes, she died with a bag over her head but had no drugs in her system. This proved to him that the Father-in-law murdered her.

Again, I repeated, ‘This is a very dark and disturbing story.’

He goes on (still sweating) saying his Father-in-law was a SOB and evil to the core and when he, the Father-in-law, was dying of cancer only 5 years ago (okay, here is the cancer connection I am now thinking he is telling me this crazy story for)  The son, Syd, wanted the Dad dead for the money.   Rob was quick to add that Syd was asking how much inheritance was to be expected and questioned when will the Dad finally die?   Rob was incredulous that Syd would ask such a thing!  He continues on saying that his wife, Angie, was hysterical calling from her Dad’s bedside wanting Rob to hurry and get to San Francisco as the Dad was nearing really sick.

Tacos and salad arrive and I am happy for the distraction. Where on earth is this story going and when will it end?

Rob’s demeanor shifted now, he sat up straighter and proclaimed, ‘Not on my watch will my Wife be hysterical’.  He repeated, ‘Not on my watch.’ (Rob is a Vietnam Vet) Rob immediately flew from Oregon to San Francisco to find both siblings, Syd and Angie anxious and pacing the floor. (I am chewing my tacos and not feeling well thinking I should get up and excuse myself to the bathroom and not return)  Rob visited the Father-in-laws bedside and found the he was lucid and seemed okay. Sick but okay. Steve and Angie talked Rob into giving the Dad some strong pills they had acquired, with instructions of what order to give them.   Rob was to give a final pill, ‘The piece de resistance’ (Rob said with flair while his fingers motioned at his smacking lips) The Dad would basically fall asleep and die.

Again, I repeated, ‘This is very dark and disturbing story Rob’.

He was in a trance like state and continued on saying Angie and Syd left for lunch leaving him to ‘take care of it’. He gave the Dad the pills as ordered but couldn’t find the final pill that was to end it. He was suspicious of Syd that he might be up to something trying to ‘pin’ this death on him by withholding the final pill. (WTF) The siblings returned from lunch to find Dad was still alive.  Angie was hysterical again (we know what Rob thinks when this happens) and Rob was talked into ‘finishing’ it.

Staring straight ahead, he confessed, ‘I pinched his nose and covered his mouth with my hand and smothered him. To death.’

I am dizzy and cannot find any words. I sit very still, not moving, saying nothing.  This man, my lunch date, just confessed to me he murdered his Father-in-law.  My brain is snapping trying to comprehend what I have just heard.   At any moment now Candid Camera will jump out wanting a close up of my reaction to this lunch date escapade.

“And then”, Rob continues, “My wife divorced me”. (IS this really happening?)  Rob seemed to share this horrific confession wanting me to know THIS is why he is divorced!  Not because of infidelity or abuse or anything else. Because he murdered her DAD!

I sit stone like, afraid to move a finger.

There is more. Rob now shares with me that he is so enraged and filled with fury he suffered from ongoing illusions of torturing Syd and watching him die slowly.  He is happy to share that he will be able to get his pilots license back soon. He has to be one full year without certain drugs.  He leans back in his chair, finished with his story and says this is the first time he has shared this story without crying. He remarks now that he only has one friend, a buddy from Vietnam days. How they take his motorhome and go to the Vegas NASCAR race every year. His 10-acre farm is too big and his house is too big. He tinkers in he 5-car garage on all his toys. He smiles, looks me in the eye, and says he wants to rent a Yacht and boat up the Sea of Cortez.

With a big fake smile, I say, ‘Rob, I have an appointment I have to get to.’  (Big lie)

I continue, ‘hey, don’t ever tell that story again, to anyone, especially a lunch date!’