Enter...Turnpike Eric

I have been single now for 18 days.  18 days...it feels longer, it actually feels like forever and not in a particularly charming way.  I can't say for sure that I'm not good at being single because I've never really been single.  At least not as an adult. I met my first serious boyfriend when I was 17 and we stayed together until I was 22.  Four months after we broke up I met Wes.  So here I am, 28 years old and  I have been single for a grand total of about 5 months in my entire adult life.  (For those who are paying attention, yes I am leaving a small something out but since this is my story and my blog, I get editing rights.  So... neener neener.)

In what little time I have spent single I have been found to be the proud owner of ASTOUNDINGLY bad dating luck.  I don't think its that I'm particularly bad at being single per se - I may get lonely occasionally but generally I'm alright on my own, it's just the random gomers that I somehow manage to attract while single that are distressing. Granted, I met Wes and I still count that a mark in the "go me" column but in betweensies it was pure weirdness.  Last time there was Small Hands Guy, Super Conservative Guy and how could we possibly forget Non-Gay Ray!

Thankfully, dating isn't really on the agenda at this point as there are some other things to be tended to. There's definite healing to be done in the heart department but beyond that I find myself little intrigued to find out what kind of person I am on my own.  What will I choose to with my evenings and weekends now that I'm working with just me, myself and I?  When the time does roll around for dating once more though (I assume that will happen eventually though it's difficult to imagine at the moment...right?) I am holding out hope that this time around, older and wiser, I will accrue a few less stories with which to entertain my friends and family.   It appears however, that the Universe has other plans for me.

Enter: Turnpike Eric.

I'm not sure if it was the cuteness that is BB or my exceptional car dancing skills that attracted Turnpike Eric's attention but it must have been one or the other (or both) because I simply cannot fathom what else would have instigated this exchange while driving down the Florida Turnpike.   It's an interesting moment when you realize a car is pacing you on the highway and you look over and a nice looking Hispanic gentleman waves at you.  I admit that I smiled as I sped up to pass / get away from him and his shiny silver car.  Then he sped up...and waved again.  So I slowed down, hoping again to shake this new friend of mine only to have him slow down in turn, roll down his window and make the "call me" sign with his hand.

Really?  What exactly is your plan here? We're driving 80 miles an hour down a four lane highway and you have some means of either getting my number (seriously unlikely) or giving me yours?  You either haven't thought this through OR you're oddly well prepared for what is hopefully a random encounter. Either way...no.

So shaking my head and doing my best to send out "I have a truck load of baggage and alphabetize everything" signals I again tried to lose my admirer in traffic.  I thought it had worked until about 5 minutes later I caught a glimpse of a silver car in my periphery and turned just as he again pulled up next to me, this time rolling down the back window and a small child's hand extended and started flashing numbers at me with his fingers.

Dude.  You're using your kid to give your number to strangers on the Turnpike?!  You have ceased to be entertaining in a charming way.

So again I sped up, this time deciding that my interest in extricating myself from this very bizarre encounter far outweighed my desire to not get a speeding ticket all the while hoping that this candidate for Worst-Father-Ever would feel differently.  Thankfully I was right and I sped off towards the horizon, leaving this fellow and his offspring in my wake. 

Fast forward to 30 or 45 peaceful, interaction free minutes later when I pulled off at a rest stop to scrub the hundreds of Love Bug carcases that had shellacked themselves to my windshield...and a silver car pulls up. Yeah - I know. 

Hi, I'm Eric.  Can I get your phone number?

ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?

Hi Eric.  I don't think so.  

Common... why not?  (WHY NOT?!  Is that a question that even needs to be asked much less answered?)

Do you do this often?  (Met with a puzzled look...) You know, pick up strange women on the Turnpike with your kid in the car?

Oh...that's Little Eric, and only when they're beautiful.  I'm just driving him down to drop him off with his mom. What's your name? Can I give you my number and you can give me a call sometime?

No thank you, I'm going to head on my way but you guys have a good rest of your trip.  

I hope you're prepared for this because here comes the kicker, as I get back into my car he says:  

You have beautiful feet. 

Ew.  Ew, ew, ew, ew, eeeeeewwwwwwwwwwww!

To me this only serves as further evidence that a.) I seriously miss my life from a month ago, b.)  I'm still a weird guy magnet and c.) only crazy serial killers hang out at truck stops and I'm pretty sure this one was planning to eat my feet and then kill me. And in that order.  

...sigh....