Poor Poor Porsche
Ok, my worst date ever...
I was 20. I made friends with this woman from my dance class. She was this very attractive, wealthy, blonde divorce' who was around 34 years-old. We kept saying how "we must go out and go clubbing" (bars, of course, not baby seals). Finally, we got together.
She picked me up in her brand new Porsche. First, we went out to dinner at a very chic downtown restaurant. All the beautiful people were there. It was a place to see and be seen. I was dressed in my skimpiest club wear. It was a red dress that plunged down my neck to my belly button. The bottom of the dress clinged to just where my butt cheeks began.
She was a bit more dressed than I, as she was older. She was someone I admired, someone I thought that I'd like to be like as I grew up. Nevertheless, the valets went crazy turning their heads to gawk at us as we got out of her gorgeous red Porsche and entered the restaurant.
I was just starting to get my feet wet entering the adult world. I had grown up watching it from the sidelines.
My father was the piano player in the house band of this very famous/ infamous private country club/ housing development/ resort located in South Florida. So my mother was a member of the club. I sat with her and watch the money-go-round (so to speak). I watched and learned from the players. But, I was protected by my mother. No one got near me. Not until now that I had come of age.
So, this was really my first night to be running with the big dogs. I had landed a friend who was a somebody with connections and power. She was a successful, beautiful, woman who was taking me under her wing.
We sat together and ate an appetizer of smoked fish dip. The dinner was lovely. The conversation flowed. We were really hitting it off. We talked about what club we would go to after dinner. The bill came and she insisted on paying. I didn't think much of that as she was this older, successful woman.
Then we left the restaurant and got into her car. I don't remember exactly what she said or how the conversation went to lead me to realize the truth but... It finally occured to me that I was her date. I was on a date with a woman! I saw the facts I hadn't seen flash before my eyes. Yes, she did look a bit butch. She had a short, angular haircut. She pumped some rather large weights and had some substantial muscle on her slender body. She was dressed sexy and feminenly, but there was a slight manly edge to the shoulder pads on her jacket, and the bold style of jewelry she wore. I don't remember what I said aboout clarifying the situation, but indeed, my suspicions were right and she confirmed that she wanted me.
I don't know if it was bad fish dip that got to me or the thought that I had innocently set myself up to be dessert for a woman but everything started spinning, the nausea instantly swept over me and I THREW UP IN HER PORSCHE!
She was very nice about it, even though her beautiful brand new car would never be the same. That delicious new car smell would forever wreak of my vomit. I told her I needed to go home because I was sick...must've been the fish dip. I don't think I went as far as to tell her I was so naive that I thought we were just going out as friends and that I was not gay.
The truth was that I was not all that innocent. It was not exactly black or white. But, I wasn't going to explain that to her. I was just scared and disgusted with myself for throwing up. It could have been bad fish dip.
And to this day, I can't look at fish dip and not think of that terrible date!
. I was there for about another hour and left. Never heard from him again and I don't care! He is a jerk. 
I think I dodged the crazy train.
