Edgar Did Not Laugh.
After our rollicking good time on New Year’s Eve, my date with Edgar the school bus driver wasn’t quite what I’d envisioned.
Larry was working, so Edgar and I went out to lunch. My disillusionment started when my ride arrived: a Chevy Citation with a broken handle. Edgar had to open the door from the inside.
“Where’s the bus?” I asked.
Edgar did not laugh. “I don’t drive the bus to lunch,” he said.
I must have been completely ignorant about such things, because I’d imagined our date to include sex on a school bus.
Instead we just headed off for a regular date.
“Well, tell me all about your job then!” I said excitedly, hoping for details about powering such a monstrous vehicle.
Edgar did not even smile. “Well I drive to a couple of schools,” he said. “The kids scream the whole time.”
“But you love it, right?” I asked, a bit confused.
“I guess,” he said. “But I have to get up really early so I’m kinda tired.” I didn’t know if Edgar meant he was tired now, or he was tired every day. Maybe both.
The conversation did not get better. Edgar had no passion for his job, which made me wonder if maybe I should be driving a bus, rather than dating this bus driver.
{This consideration was a serious clue to a relationship pattern I’d developed, but I completely missed the clue.}
“Isn’t it fun to drive all those kids around?” I queried.
“Hell no,” he said.
Edgar and I went to an Italian restaurant, one that was fast and cheap. Edgar didn’t laugh or smile the entire time we were eating, didn’t seem to understand when I was making jokes, and he didn’t talk much about his job, even after I showed a renewed interest in the kids.
We had exactly one glass of wine each, which is utterly useless for an alcoholic. What good is one glass of wine? It ignites the MORE MORE MORE! urgency, but fails miserably at creating any kind of fun romp afterward.
I also mistakenly believed that, because Edgar was younger than Larry, we would have a lot in common.
“What kind of music do you listen to?” I asked. “Who’s your favorite band?”
“I dunno,” he said. “I don’t really listen to music.”
Then he stopped talking again. Edgar didn’t talk much about anything. So we ate in silence.
We’d had such a good time on New Year’s Eve. How did I miss the incredulously boring nature of the man across the table from me?
I felt guilty eating the food Edgar provided. I hadn’t thought to bring any money; Larry always paid for everything. I wasn’t used to going on actual dates.
And this particular date made me want to stop dating forever. By the time we were done with lunch, I was ready to go home – with one exception.
“Should we do a line before we go?” I asked. Edgar had supplied me with an immense amount of cocaine on New Year’s Eve; maybe that was the element we were missing.
Edgar didn’t even hesitate: “That was just for New Year’s Eve,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, still trying to act chipper. “That was a really fun night.”
Edgar grunted, “Uh-huh.” He didn’t seem even slightly interested in our wild night together, and he certainly wasn’t interested in our lunch.
So it was a short, very quiet ride back to my house. I never saw the school bus driver again.