Written by Bamboo Forest
Photo by c’est la Viva
February 14th was turning out to be the best Valentine’s of my life.
I had a ridiculously hot date.
She was perfect without a single blemish.
And the best part, she loved hearing me talk. I could yap for hours and the only expression her face would elicit was a beautiful smile that was seemingly permanent.
I made Sheila and I a reservation at Kagaya restaurant for our Valentine’s dinner.
Walking in the maitre d’ greeted me with a bright smile, but glanced over at my date and gave an expression like he just chocked on a piece of raw salmon that unexpectedly manifested in his throat.
Excuse me sir, what the hell is that?
Sir, that’s my date… what does it look like, I said irritated.
I’m sorry sir, but we don’t allow mannequins on the premises. If you want to eat here, you’ll have to leave it outside in your trunk.
Blood started rushing up my body like I was a volcano moments before erupting and flattening a small, helpless village.
Just before erupting, I glanced over at my Sheila looking at her innocent soft face and emerald eyes which made my heart turn to jello and then decided not to do something I’d regret. I didn’t want to embarrass her on this special night, and I don’t have the best track record when it comes to the fuzz.
Gathering my composure I said to the maitre d’, Look… this is my date, I made a reservation, and if you want Shirley and me to leave you’re going to have to take us out by your bare hands because we aren’t budging.
He didn’t say a word and I could tell the seriousness on my face left an impression on him.
* * *
Maitre d’ calls the owner not knowing what to do
Sir, yeah, we got a situation here… there’s a man with a mannequin claiming “she’s” his lover. He wants to eat dinner with her.
Does he have money to pay for her?
Yes, all 75 dollars.
Let him in.
Let him in Staniel! Stick him in the corner.
Look, I’ve got a mortgage to pay and oil’s going through the f*cking roof. And please, don’t call me while I’m taking time in the tub and enjoying a cigar with your petty crap for crying out loud!
Call me again with a nothing problem and you’re outta here. You got that?!
* * *
I noticed the maitre d’ hang up the phone. He looked at me and Sheila as if he was just told he had to kick his own mother in the stomach and said begrudgingly, “please follow me sir.”
I and Sheila walked through this dimly lit restaurant… Amazingly, it was as if every table we passed couldn’t help but look at us. I knew Sheila was gorgeous, but never in my life did I have a woman who literally caused not only both sexes to turn heads, but even small children too.
As we sat down, he asked me what I wanted. I ordered the assorted tempura with the sushi boat.
He didn’t ask Sheila what she wanted, which I expected, since this guy’s demonstrated he’s an absolute ass with zero manners, probably abused as a child.
I cleared my throat and said, “Sheila will have the ramen noodles and grilled snapper.”
I and Sheila sat there sipping our tea lovingly gazing into each other’s eyes as if we were the only two people in the universe.
I started telling her my hopes and dreams over our candle lit dinner… How I recently became a contributing author for Daily Blog Tips. She was really impressed with that.
I also told her how my site Tick Tock Timer was currently ranked sixth on Google for my desired search phrase ,online timer, and that impressed her so much she just sat there speechless looking lovingly into my eyes as if she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.
We were simply made for each other.
Just as the waiter was bringing our food to the table two cops busted onto the scene. Because of my history with the fuzz… I kept my head down and just tried to eat my food, not attracting attention to myself. But as if I was abducted as a little boy by aliens and had a fuzz magnet implanted into my left butt cheek, the two coppers came my way and stopped at my table.
Hi, are you Bamboo Forest?
You’re under arrest.
I roared, THIS IS AMERICA… YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME… I’M BAMBOO FOREST!…
I then quickly buried my head into my hands, devastated, having the greatest night of my life get destroyed because of two men dressed in blue who wanted to wreck a perfect thing.
Sir, if you want to eat dinner with a mannequin you’re perfectly welcome to do so even though we think it’s sick and you’re mentally deranged.
But this mannequin is the property of Dillards, you stole it, we have you on the security camera and you’re under arrest.
In fact, you’ve stolen 12 mannequins in the past month alone.
Someone alerted us that the mannequin bandit that’s been showing on the news from security cameras was here.
We’re taking you in.
He then went onto give me my Miranda warning which I could have told the copper backwards after a round of drinks.
All I could do was burry my head in my hands feeling like I’ve been cursed never to have success with love.
Truth is, this was utter nonsense.
How could anyone equate the search for love with theft?!
And besides, I knew in my heart that Sheila was my soul mate… the others were too short. That no other woman could ever give me what she did. And, to be perfectly honest, that no other woman could ever be the kind of mother that I knew she would be to the kids I dreamed of having with her.
My heart felt like it was teared apart like a pizza pie from a pack of hungry frat kids at 3 A.M. on a Saturday night. I concluded I’m just not made for love.
I decided to plead insanity even though you know just as well as I that there’s no way in hell I’m insane. I mean, I’m a life coach for crying out loud.
To my readers who stick with me no matter what happens in my life… even when injustices rain upon me like a hail storm from hell, I salute you.
To the haters out there? Keep coming to PI, I really need the traffic, and don’t mind your hate filled mind.
March 1st, 2011