Subscribe to the blog

  • Bill Chastain

Eavesdrop Heaven

Wearing a sun dress and heels, the woman glanced around the bar then sat next to Patti and me.

A blind date awaited.

Patti’s ensuing expression reminded me of my father’s when he hooked a bass. If the fish had any size, or fight, Dad might even offer an, “Oh, man!”

My wife went with a simple “thank you” for effectively giving her a front row seat for Eavesdrop Heaven. Were this desert, Bobby Flay would have called it decadent.

I remained quiet, working on my French Dip and sipping a Fat Tire. Patti feigned nonchalance to disguise the fact her antennae were engaged. She had entered a zone. The great ones don’t miss a word. Can you say Radar O’Reilly?

“High maintenance” registered in my mind when the woman ordered a Brandy Alexander. The beverage choice wasn’t the problem. However, instructing the bartender on the proper way to make the drink raised a red flag. Her grating, nasal tone that rattled the room.


Rocking back with cocktail in hand, HIGH MAINTENANCE called a friend on her cell phone, spilling the beans about how she had met her blind date on line. Apparently the music for this Internet tango had played on for over a year. Now he finally wanted to get together. “He’s late forties,” she said. “Has no idea how old I am.”

Despite HIGH MAINTENANCE’S efforts to remain toned and tanned, I estimated she had lived in parts of at least six, maybe seven decades, leaving her better suited for the dim lighting of Happy Hour rather than the mid-day bright.

Once BLIND DATE arrived, I saw Custer poking along toward Little Big Horn twirling his golden locks and thinking of the 7th Calvary’s No. 1 ranking in the latest polls.

Talk about a trap game!

After exchanging pleasantries, HIGH MAINTENANCE began to probe.

“You feel bad? Were you out late last night?” she asked,

BLIND DATE confessed to a hangover.

“Drink tons of water,” HIGH MAINTENANCE said. “Have a beer. Hair of the dog, right?”

Once they were called to their table, BLIIND DATE plunked down a fifty for HIGH MAINTENANCE’S tab. The change — or lack thereof — prompted BLIND DATE’S face to execute a cartoon-like double-take. Clearly the cost of keeping HIGH MAINTENANCE in her cups had caught him off guard.

Had HIGH MAINTENANCE come off as high maintenance during their exchanges on line? If so, did BLIND DATE ignore the signals or had he simply caved to meet certain primal needs?

Not my problem. Patti had sated her eavesdropping cravings. She appeared happy, thus, happy wife, happy life.

Meanwhile, I’m relatively sure BLIND DATE’S afternoon proved memorable.

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All