In Which our Heroine Discovers that no matter how good she played pool when she was 5, she sucks at it now…

I had a date last night. Yep, a real date. As in, he picked me up at my house, opened the car door for me, closed it behind me after I got in, and took me out to dinner. He even paid. He dropped me off at the door of the restaurant while he parked, and at the end, he told me to wait inside where it was warm while he went and got the car. Heated seats.
It was still early, but there’s honestly not much to do in Brantford if you don’t drink, so he threw out the suggestion that we could go back to his place, if I was comfortable with that, as he has a pool table in his basement. Now, the last time I played pool, I was about five years old. See, my dad used to be a bartender at the Brantford Air Force Club, and on Sundays when the club was closed, he and the other bartender, Tommy, used to go in for a couple hours to clean up and restock the cooler and do odd jobs they didn’t have much time for during the week. Often I would go with him, and Tommy’s son, Timmy (really!) would also go. After our dads had finished working they would often shoot a game or two of pool. Timmy and I were fascinated by the pool table and all the coloured balls, so while our dads were working we would often try to play pool ourselves. Of course, this was in the era where kids actually followed their parents’ instructions, and we knew we had to be very careful with the cues and chalk, and not damage the cloth of the table in any way, so we were very cautious. My dad was amused by my juvenile efforts, and would help me out by showing me some tricks and techniques. According to him, I was quite good – for a five year old.

I told my date this story, which he found quite amusing, and I warned him that all that was many, many years ago, so he’d best not expect me to be any good at all. I guess I hadn’t actually point blank said whether I was ok with going to his house or not, because he drove to his place, but didn’t pull in the driveway. He stopped out front, told me this was his house, and said that since I hadn’t really answered whether I was ok with it or not, it was totally up to me – we could go in, or he could take me home.

Long story short – I freaking SUCK at playing pool! We played two games, and in both games the green ball defied every single effort I made to sink the damned thing! I swear it waited till the white ball was about to hit it, then all on its own it rolled slightly out of the way so it didn’t get hit! We gave up after the two games because I refused to allow the green ball another chance to display its hostility towards me. And yes, that’s what I told my date, and he, thank goodness, thought I was very funny! So we just sat and talked for a while, and then he brought me home.
He was a perfect gentleman the entire evening – the closest he even came to touching me was when our hands accidentally brushed as he was handing me a shorter pool cue. He didn’t even kiss me good night.
I sent him an email this morning thanking him for a lovely evening, and indicating that if he’s so inclined, I would be interested in seeing him again. He replied that he also had had a good time, and he thanked me for my company. He said he would definitely like to see me again, and that I am a well grounded lady with what seems like a lovely family. (He actually had met Brianna briefly when he picked me up as she was doing her Just Dance in the living room)
Shelley had told me I absolutely HAD to call her when I got home from my date, she didn’t care what time it was, even if it was four in the morning. In the course of our conversation I had told him this, and he didn’t miss a beat, but asked if I was going to go home and set my alarm to wake up at 4AM so I could call her…..I like his sense of humour.
So there you go. Who knows. He’s from Brantford though, so that makes things a bit easier.

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