“I had no idea you were a real person.”

What the — ? What did he just say?

I shook my head hard in disbelief. It was as if doing so would dislodge the words from my ears and fall like broken glass to the floor. I was hearing things, right? You ever have one of those instances when you’re so floored, angry, upset, whatever and you have what seems like you’re having an out of body experience? This was one of those moments.

It took me what seemed like forever to return to a conscious state of mind. I shook my head again, closing my eyes for a moment. I opened them and asked, “As opposed to what!?”

“No, I mean, you actually have goals, aspirations and are doing something with yourself…”

Okay, okay. He’s about to clean this up. I think.

But he continued. “You’re like, actually, a real person.”

“As opposed to what?!” I was beginning to sound like a broken record but I was so taken back that it was the only thing that was coming out my mouth.

I don’t know if he had seen the steam coming from my ears or heard that my tone had begun to change when I said a third time “as opposed to WHAT?!”, but his words began to trail off, and he quit explaining his devastation. Either way, this man was for real. He wasn’t kidding. At that point I had some options: (1) I could politely excuse myself like Romy did in the movie Romy & Michelle’s Class Reunion and say ‘I’m sorry, I cut my foot earlier and my shoe is filling up with blood,” (2) slap him in the face with the drink from my glass like Samantha did to Richard in an episode of Sex and the City, or (3) do what I would do when I haven’t finished my meal. Wanna take a guess?

I stayed to finish the meal. But in my defense after all, it WAS steak and eggs! Horrible, I know, but I’ll say it like a friend of mine claims: call me what you want, but you’ll never call me hungry! PLUS, my fascination with his approach to women surpassed my general interest that had long since died with my last bite of steak. Anxious to see what is his game entailed, I chalked up our contact to ‘research’ and asked more questions. Especially since the last one I could only muster up was ‘as opposed to what?’

Further investigation revealed that in addition to the Ph.D, the house, the job, the car, the hot tub and the news article, he also operated on an Ass-To-Cash Ratio. What does that mean, folks? Well, no worries because he had the audacity to explain it to me. Get this.

According to him, he was willing to spend up to $200.00 in dates before he expected a woman to either give up the goods or start paying for herself, or be dumped. Even then, he stated, that if it wasn’t any good, he might still make her pay, but hadn’t imposed that fine on anyone as of yet. I didn’t even dare ask why.

Anyway, he further explained that depending on his urgency or deficit (of women in the bank, I’m assuming), rather, he would either go to expensive restaurants for a woman he thought would be easier to bed in order to reach his $200.00 limit quicker or space out his dates and eat less expensively for those he thought would take a little longer to let him between their sheets. It was like an investment. Which was why, he openly admitted, he and I were at Bob Evans that very moment. Side note: for those of you who may not know, two can eat for less than 20 dollars at Bob Evans. Especially breakfast. I immediately suggested we start going to Taco Bell and he add a couple zeros to the back of that number, the rate he was going. I expressed that while I could respect that his way of thinking was HIS way of thinking, I couldn’t believe he was actually telling me all of this!

His response? “Why not? It’s true.”

But surely he wasn’t revealing this information to all his dates. He might as well walk around with a disclosure in his pocket for women to sign! I could see it now:

I, (state your name here), by signing this contract, agree and attest to all clauses contained in the $200.00 Ass-To-Cash Ratio (hereinafter “ATCR”) Contract. In the event the ATCR threshold is reached by said stockholder, I, (state your name here), shall have the opportunity to decide my own fate. I also agree that upon withholding the goods from said stockholder AFTER $200.00, I, therefore, will henceforth be responsible for my portion of any and all subsequent dates. I also understand that in the event that said property, (i.e. ass), is relinquished, the Quality Contingency Clause (Part A, subsection 13.2) of said property is immediately enacted and I am not entirely excluded from being responsibly free of paying my portion for future dates, until quality is determined. In any event, courtship can be ceased at any time.

Sign. Date. Notarize.

Breakfast ended. I was full. With food and information. TOO much information. Following that day, I didn’t plan to talk to him anymore but a week or two later, he called for an official date.

Until this very day, I can’t believe that Black Sam actually existed. Rather, I should say that I didn’t think guys like him still existed. But contrary to my belief, they do, he still does, and did. Black Sam reminds me of one to those macho guys I used to overhear behind me in high school geometry class. You know the ones that compare the notches in their belt to the number of women they sacked? That’s it. Even in high school, I rolled my eyes, turned around and told them about themselves. Except in Black Sam’s case, he was a grown man.

Living in a smaller city at the time, I had seen Black Sam here and there about town, and each time he was with a different girl. My friends and I sometimes wondered what was the fascination with him. We felt further investigation was needed. However, it wasn’t necessary because one evening he took it upon himself to formally introduce himself. He instantly began downloading all the things I am certain he believed a woman found impressive. Wait, just one moment and let me explain. While the list of credentials was very commendable, it was the delivery of them that was messed up.

He began by giving me his business card, thoroughly explaining that he had a Ph.D., pointing out each letter after the name on his card and “make sure you call me doctor,” came across with a wink. There was a fabulous job, a house in a prominent neighborhood, hot tub, a newspaper article claiming him to be the city’s Most Eligible Bachelor and praising him of his accomplishments. Oh, and again, the hot tub. He kept mentioning it like something was supposed to finally go off in my head and my panties would drop. I didn’t blame him entirely for his approach. Because if it hadn’t ever worked, certainly he was smart enough to try something new. So somewhere down the line, it worked on some woman, somewhere.

Anyway, at the time I found him amusing and interesting. It was fascinating to see someone still operating like this. For the next few weeks we went to what he called Saturday breakfast. The first moment I met him I knew he was no good. But I still went. (Healing is a process, folks. A process. Hadn’t done all my learning just yet – at least not enough!)

It was early on one Saturday morning at breakfast, when the “you can’t be serious’??” began. We had ordered our usual and were exchanging in some small talk. I remember him asking me why I stayed in the state although the rest of my family lived in Pennsylvania. I began explaining my reasons including my son, mine and my sister’s non-profit organization that we founded and the purchase of my new home when suddenly, out of nowhere he practically shouted out.

“Oh my God!”

My heart skipped a beat and I dashed a hurried look over each shoulder, up to the kitchen and down to each of our plates – looking desperately, searching to find what was wrong. I thought he had found something in his food or saw something on my plate, but I saw nothing.

“What?” I exclaimed.

The next string of words shocked the mess out of me as he began to explain.

“I can’t believe that all this time I have been trying to get you in my hot tub and saying all this stuff to you. Running all these lines. Oh my God!” His hands were up near his face, running over his bald head. I think the dude had started to sweat!

And? I thought. What does that have to do with anything besides your ego? But no sooner had I thought the question did he come at me with his completed thought…….

To be continued….