Three Reasons not to Date a Vampire

I had a terrible crush on Lydia, as you may have  ascertained  from my comments about her in earlier posts. She was kind of out of my league, and by 'kind of' I mean sandlot verses Major League Baseball. Delia, on the other hand, was  accessible, sweet, and plump like a  nectarine that leaps into your hand as you reach out to pluck it from its limb.  Okay, a little flowery, but you get the picture.

I don't know how many boyfriends she had before me, and I didn't want to know (*shivers*) but it was apparent from the beginning she knew the rules much better than I did. I spite of two tumultuous marriages I knew nothing about dealing with ordinary women. My understanding of preternatural women would rattle around in a shot glass.

Any self respecting man would assume control in spite of his ignorance and learn as he went along. So, I assumed the roll of puppy dog and followed her around and barked at her command.

It wasn’t all that bad. She would get take-out for me at any number of eateries any time of night and return much quicker than I could myself. On the negative side, not long after introducing her to some of my acquaintances they would no longer come around. I never found her off putting, but apparently they did. My good friends remained, so I wasn’t too concerned.

During Jazz Fest there were several bands I wanted to introduce to Delia, but they were playing in the late afternoon and she always had an excuse why she was unavailable. I even began suspecting there was another man.

Then came the final straw. I am a bit of a gourmet cook, having worked in several restaurants. I wanted to do something nice for Delia since she was so accommodating when I would order takeout.

I believe that it is generally known that pork when undercooked can cause food poisoning from several types of bacteria that thrive on uncooked pork. To counter this problem one cooks the meat to a temperature that will not allow the bacteria to live. This includes, especially the inner core of the meat which generally causes some crispiness on the surface.

I had set a nice table with a white silk table cloth, my best china and silverware, and, as a finishing touch, a tall thin delicate green vase sporting a single red rose.

When she entered my apartment she was not in a good mood, she had dark circles under her eyes (color of any kind on her face was reason for concern). I sat her down on the lounge chair and began rubbing her stiff shoulders while whispering calming words into her ear. She she sat up in a rush, causing me to bite my tongue as her shoulder banged my chin, and with the most vitriolic tone I had ever heard from her mouth she asked what was causing that God awful stench in the house?
I, still recovering from an aching swollen tongue, in ignorance replied, “Dinner.”

“You know quite well, my dear, that if I eat anything at all it is always extremely rare beef! Not burnt roadkill as that odor indicates!”

I would say that at this point she stormed out of the door, but that would not be true. What happened from my point of view, is she stood and shot daggers from her eyes (this may be a cliche, but in this case the physical pain those eyes caused made me believe she had truly caused daggers to fly into me). What happen next I don’t expect you to believe, I hardly believe it myself and I was there. One second she was standing there looking as if she was plotting my death and the next second the front door slammed shut nearly breaking the door frame and simultaneously Delia vanished. I don’t mean she faded out like an apparition. I mean one instant she was there and the next instant, perfectly timed with the door slam, she no longer was there. The only hints I had to verify that she had been there was the musty smell of moth balls and the swollen tip of my tongue.

I never saw her again. Although I saw Lydia often at the Dungeon her BFF was not around. I felt a hole in my life I had only experienced once before in my life. Lydia and I would occasionally wander the Quarter and laugh, but we were just friends, and I think we both were bothered by Delia’s absence.

I wonder what could have been, had I not made that mistake.