T O D A Y

Drama Queen candidates:
The strangest declarations of love

Contestant No. 1
Contestant No. 2
Contestant No. 3

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TABLE TALK

Is Tinky Winky a subversive pawn of the militant gay agenda? Discuss the true nature of the Teletubbies in the Mothers are of Table Talk

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R E C E N T L Y

A sardine's story
By Sallie Tisdale
A picture book that follows the life of a fish, all the way to her death and packaging in a can -- has some grown-ups squirming. Maybe kids need to help them face reality
(02/11/99)

The city of lost children
By Katherine Ellison
Is a Brazilian judge stealing babies for American families?
(02/10/99)

The feminist queen of the Middle East
By Geraldine Brooks
Queen Noor deserves much of the credit for Jordan's transformation from police state to cradle of political freedom
(02/09/99)

What is Victoria's secret?
By Coleen Hubbard
How do you explain to your little girl that we live in a world where breasts get graded, and some of us flunk?
(02/08/99)

Lichen
By Anne Lamott
My father believed that "nature bats last" -- and it did, unfolding my family's destiny
(02/05/99)

ARCHIVES

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Mamafesto
By Camille Peri
Why it's time
for Mothers Who Think

Cupid on roller skates
By Kimberly Hooper

The summer after my freshman year in college I went to live with my aunt and uncle in Maine. Upon arrival, my aunt mentioned that the local 24-hour restaurant was hiring waitresses for the night shift, which was perfect for an 18-year-old's plans. I would be off work by 7 a.m., sleep until noon or so and then head to the beach. What my oh-so-unworldly mind didn't anticipate, however, was the sort of person who frequented greasy spoons after 11 p.m.

First there was the local boy from the nearby college who sat for hours and drank cup after cup of coffee before summoning the courage to ask me out. I thought that was cute. It was a little less cute to hear the story of his incestuous relationship with his older cousin on our first -- and only -- date.

Shortly after that date, I served breakfast to a man who told me he'd just arrived in town to visit an old friend. He asked me if I'd mind riding out to the guy's house with him later that afternoon. I agreed because I was young and stupid and he seemed nice. Besides, I didn't have anything better to do.

He picked me up around 3 p.m. and the first thing I noticed was a pair of roller skates in the back seat. I asked him why he had a pair of skates and he told me he skated competitively. At first I thought he meant racing or something. But no, he meant something similar to the dance competition in "Saturday Night Fever" -- only on skates. I stifled the urge to laugh out loud. Skating had been cool in the sixth grade. It boggled my mind to think of a grown man hanging around roller rinks showing off his fancy footwork to impress girls. But hey, maybe things were different in Maine. Maybe skating really was cool here, and I was being a little hasty in my judgment. So I asked him if he ever met any women his own age there. He sheepishly admitted most of the girls were too young to drive. OK, so the guy's a little strange, I thought, but it's not like we were on a date or anything. I was just tagging along while he visited an old friend.

We got to his friend's house and I noticed an uncomfortable tension in the air. Were we there to collect a debt or something? Did he forget to let the guy know he was in town to visit? I even wondered if I was brought over for the express purpose of being set up with the friend, since the guy who drove me wasn't paying me much attention. Heck, maybe I'd proven myself unworthy of his attention when I didn't get all hot over the roller skating thing.

After about an hour of hanging around the house we all decided to go to a nearby bar for happy hour. By then I was concentrating most of my attention on the friend because we actually seemed fairly compatible. He was smart and funny and a real working artist. I decided Skateboy must be OK after all, because he was obviously normal enough to have a charming, intelligent, creative friend. Maybe what I'd interpreted as strange was really just ... quirky. Maybe he was more strange-creative than cool-creative, but artistic people can be like that sometimes. I relaxed and soon was trading witty barbs with the charming guy, and was even including Skateboy in the conversation. Until I directed one of my witty barbs at him.

I was expecting a returned display of humor, but instead Skateboy leaned over and bit me! Hard enough to leave teeth marks. I yelped and asked him why he did that, but he just smiled at me. I decided right then there was no way I was going to let this guy drive me back home. That was beyond "quirky." Of course, maybe he didn't mean to bite me that hard. Maybe he thought pain turned me on. Or maybe I just learned why it's not a good idea to trust strangers.

When Skateboy excused himself to use the telephone, I told his friend that I was not getting back in the car alone with that guy. I asked him if he'd ride along with us on the drive back to my house. He agreed. When Skateboy got back he told us we had to leave right away because he needed to meet with someone about a business deal. He'd drop the friend off first, then take me home. Fortunately, his friend suggested that if he was in a big hurry he could drop both of us off at his house and I could catch a ride with him instead. It took a bit of convincing for Skateboy to agree to the plan, but not only did I get out of a very scary ride home, I also got to talk to his friend long enough for him to invite me to dinner a few days later. Not bad for a brief encounter with a strange person.

The date with the friend went wonderfully. We genuinely liked each other. I told him we should thank Skateboy for introducing us, but he said he hadn't heard from him since the day at the bar. Neither had I -- maybe I had overreacted to the biting thing. Maybe I just used it as an excuse to be alone with the guy I really liked.

A few days later Skateboy surprised me by walking into the restaurant. I assumed he'd left town since he obviously wasn't visiting the friend he came to see. When I greeted him I could see he was upset and agitated and naturally I asked him what was wrong. With tears in his eyes, he asked me if I went out with his friend. I said yes, and he began sobbing. He told me he really loved me and how could I cheat on him with his best friend?

At first I thought he was joking. Any minute the friend would walk in laughing. Then it hit me -- he wasn't joking! He loved me? He barely knew me! Up till that point I hadn't even realized he'd been interested in me. Fortunately, the only other person in the restaurant was another waitress, and she listened incredulously as he dramatically told me how deeply I'd hurt him, how I'd cut out his heart with a knife with my cruelty. Then he told me because he loved me so much, all he wanted was my happiness. So he wouldn't come between me and his friend, and we could go ahead and get married if we wanted to!

After he left, the other waitress and I decided that maybe there was a history between these two guys. Maybe his friend had stolen his girlfriend once before and this just reminded him of the pain. The guy obviously wasn't very emotionally stable, but still -- it's not cool to steal a friend's girlfriend. And maybe the girl did marry the guy I was dating. Hey, wait a minute -- he never told me he was married, or divorced, or whatever. The second I got home I called his friend and asked him what was going on." I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "I only met the guy the day before you did."
SALON | Feb. 12, 1999

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