Princess MoMo

Certain aspects of dating are difficult to fully convey in writing.  So, I need a reality TV show.  If you can help me out with that, I’d greatly appreciate it.

The Mr. Lambo finale was scheduled for February 14, 2012.  Who plans a break up date? Apparently, Lambo and MoMo.  And, why on Valentine’s Day? We’ll get to that.

Pre-February 14 Story Foundation

By February 13, 2012, I had grown fed up with Mr. Lambo.  I hadn’t seen him in three weeks because every time we were supposed to see one another, there was no set plan in place.  I’m not anal retentive about planning.  In fact, I rarely like committing to things more than three days in advance.  However, neither he nor I have our own living quarters (sitting around on the couch watching a movie isn’t a readily available option), we live about 60 miles apart (a 20 minutes hangout session isn’t feasible), and we both reside in the suburbs (there isn’t much to do on the fly).   His date idea shortage is not surprising.  On our first date, he showed up with no plan whatsoever.  In fairness, I shouldn’t have expected that the fairy godmother of ideas would cast a spell on him afterward.

Despite not seeing each other, we communicated everyday, mostly on the phone.  I felt that he wasn’t putting much effort into seeing me, though.  I expressed my annoyance, but it fell on deaf ears.

The morning of February 9, when I called him on my way to work, he asked if I saw the relationship going anywhere or if he was wasting his time.  I responded honestly that I wanted to see other people.  He asked that I hold off on that until Valentine’s day because he wanted to go out on a high note.  I hesitated for at least two reasons.  First, it seemed like a ploy to gain my affections.  Second, I don’t like that approach to good byes.  My ideal good bye, or more appropriately called “bad bye” and “indifferent bye,” plays out in one of two ways:

1. Crash and Burn – In the crash and burn approach, one or both parties say (or do) the meanest things they can think of to one another.  Sounds vicious, right?  Exactly.  That makes it easy to walk away.

2. Fade Out – In the fade out approach, both parties let the relationship fizzle out.  Gradually, communication and face time is decreased.  It’s essentially a weaning process.

But, because he had been nothing but nice to me up to that point, I agreed to put aside my peace-out preferences and go on this farewell rendezvous.   In the back of my mind, I was expecting (and hoping) that he would fuck up this date, making the decision to part ways painless.

February 14 Pre-Date Details

On the way to work that morning, I called Mr. Lambo.  He said he had made a list of restaurants and planned to visit them later that day to assess them.  I thought to myself, “Is this guy fucking kidding me?  Who visits restaurants on foot and who expects to find availability at a decent restaurant within hours of Valentine’s day dinner time?”  I didn’t say anything, though.  I figured I’d let the disaster play out.  If nothing else, it would make for a good story.  He said he would pick me up around 7 pm.

The Date

I left work around 6 pm (early) so that I’d make it home in time for Lambo’s arrival.  He called me a few moments after I had entered the MoMo-mobile.  He said to “take [my] time” because dinner reservations weren’t until 8:45 pm.  Initially, I was disgruntled by the late dinner arrangements, but I rolled with it.  When I got home, I had some projects to complete.  I had purchased a Hot Wheels Lamborghini for Mr. Lambo.  There were a few issues with my purchase.  First, it wasn’t the right model.  He purports to own a Diablo, but I couldn’t find one in the store.  Solution: I upgraded him to a Murciélago. Yeah, I’m nice like that.  Second, the Murciélago was blue.    Solution: Custom paint job.  This was one of my projects.  I used red nail polish to detail the mini-Lambo.  The painting was no simple feat.  There are a lot of little nooks and crannies in that little car son of a bitch and it required more than one layer of paint.  (The next day, I went online and found a Hot Wheels of the exact make, model and color of his Lamborghini and had it shipped to his house.)

My other project was to write a message in a card I had bought for him.  I am not much of a card writer and as you will learn in this post, there’s a reason for that.  You see, I’m not very verbally expressive with respect to what I call my “gay feelings.”  (Yeah, I said it: “gay feelings.”)  I prefer to approach tense situations with humor.  So, naturally, I wrote Mr. Lambo a break up poem.   I drafted my disaster-piece and threw a final coat of nail polish on the Lambo and then responded to Mr. Lambo’s text informing him that I was ready.

Not surprisingly, he did not arrive in the illusory Lamborghini.  Instead, he pulled up in a new vehicle: the Escalade.  I opened the house door and as I stepped out, the rain drops began falling with more intensity.  I pulled my coat hood outlined in fur over my head, donning a trendy Eskimo look.  Mr. Lambo stepped out of his vehicle and said, “Where is your umbrella?”  He asked this because on our second date, I introduced him to my colorful umbrella that matches my purse, my camera case, my wallet and my passport case.  Remember how I said I’m not anal retentive about planning? Well, I am anal retentive about matching.

He opened the SUV passenger side door and I struggled to climb up to the seat because my Eskimo hood was obstructing my vision and this vehicle was a lot higher off of the ground than the Eclipse.  Plus, I was holding the not yet dry custom painted mini-Lambo.  I don’t remember why, but I turned to the back seat of the car and I noticed a bouquet of flowers.   I pretended I didn’t see it because I didn’t want to ruin his presentation.

I turned on the light in Lambo’s car because I had spent so much time painting the Hot Wheels that I had not been able to paint my face.  Mr. Lambo looked over at me and his expression was, in the words of the infamous Capo/Mafioso, “like a lil kid on B/Day waiting for a gift,,,,,”   It was the smitten look I had recognized the second time we went out.  He didn’t move from my driveway for a couple of minutes.  Finally, I asked, “Why are you still parked?”  He said he was waiting for me to finish my makeup.  I reminded him that I do my makeup everyday while I’m driving myself to work; it certainly wasn’t a challenge doing it while someone else operated the vehicle.  Before he shifted to reverse, he handed me a dozen red long stem roses, a heart shaped box of chocolates, a very soft stuffed animal bear and a bottle of wine.  I know what some of you are thinking, “Oh, how cliché!”  So what? Valentine’s Day is a cliché holiday. He did what he was supposed to do. Kudos, Mr. Lambo.

Once he reached the bottom of my driveway, he reached over to hold my hand. I pulled away and said, “You’re starting with the gayness already?” He did not let go of my hand and responded, “It’s Valentine’s Day; I get to be as gay as I want.”

I put a lot of mental preparation into this date. I had to condition my mind to believe that it was not our last date because having that thought on the forefront of my consciousness was unpleasant.

It wasn’t long before we arrived at the restaurant. The first thing I noticed was that this joint was filled with uppity-looking, older people. We were seated. Mr. Lambo went to the restroom. I immediately caught sight of the piece of bovine deliciousness that was being consumed by the woman sitting to my right. The waitress approached. In a barely audible voice I asked her what the table neighbor was eating. She told me it was the steak special. My mind was made up.

Lambo returned. I told him I had made my selection. The waitress reappeared and recited the specials. The steak special happened to be a 20 oz. Porterhouse steak. Mr. Lambo ordered short rib ravioli (which was mouth wateringly tasty) and a chicken dish.

I’m extremely talkative. I always have been. My third grade teacher, God rest her soul, told my mom that I have the gift of gab. My cellular phone minute usage corroborates that statement. I talked a lot at dinner. This loquaciousness was more than standard operating procedure though; I was making a concerted effort to distract from any emotional nonsense.

Despite my attempts to avoid the reality of the situation, Lambo brought it to surface by saying, “I guess this is our last hoorah.”  I replied, “But you have to do one more thing for me before we stop talking.”  He looked up, positioned his hands as though on a keyboard, and mouthed the “tick tick tick” typing sound (insinuating that he would write his version of our final date).  I smiled.  With that, my eyes and tear ducts began to betray me.  I did my best to hide it, but it was too obvious.  I asked Lambo not to look at me so that I could collect myself.  We left shortly thereafter.

The air was thick.  We entered into his vehicle and the waterworks overtook me.  Needing to decrease the tension, I told him that I had written him a poem and handed him the card.

Lambos are red

Violets are blue

I’ve truly enjoyed spending time with you

Thanks for contributing to my blog

Sadly it turns out you are not my frog

Some day you’ll make another princess very happy

Now this poem must end before it gets too sappy.

After reading it, he threw the card down, opened the car door and stepped outside for a minute.  He didn’t like my poem.  I apologized and explained that it was not intended to be malicious.  He said it was hurtful and made him feel like he wasn’t good enough for me.  He began driving back to my house.  Once we arrived, we sat in the driveway saying our final good byes.  The waterworks increased and he joined in the tear fest.  I told him that I couldn’t part this way and that I’d call him once I got inside of the house.

I went inside and plugged in my device to charge (because as usual, it was on the verge of death).  I then let the huahuas out.  About ten minutes later, I went upstairs and saw that Mr. Lambo and called and texted me.   The text contained a poem from him.

It’s only been a minute, but I guess we are done.
No future for us, no daughter no son
You wrote me a poem that  tore at my soul,
You have no idea that
it’s my heart you previously stole

We (and by we, I really me I) talked for sometime about why it wasn’t practical for us to date.  I was trying to justify my decision.  Before I could fully convince myself, the Sandman summoned me.  I went to sleep.

Lambo and I spoke again on my way to work the following morning.  I continued to rationalize.  About an hour later, he texted me, “Idk if you noticed, but the gods are so upset that you broke it off with me that they are shedding frozen tears. Thanks for the snow Ice Princess.”  We spoke one last time that night.  I created some sort of false drama to make it easier to walk away.  He saw right through my psychological moves and called me out on it saying, “It doesn’t have to end like this.”  I responded, “Yes, it does.  Good bye.” And that was the end.

I miss him, but letting it go on any longer would just make it hurt more later.  We live in different worlds and there were too many factors working against us (at least in my mind).

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Related Posts:

Click here for the initial online dating site exchange with Mr. Lambo.
Click here for Part I of Mr. Lambo’s rendition of the facts of the first date.
Click here for Part II of Mr. Lambo’s rendition of the facts of the first date.
Click here for Part III of Mr. Lambo’s rendition of the facts of the first date.
Click here for Part I of Princess MoMo’s rendition of the facts of the first date.
Click here for Part II of Princess MoMo’s rendition of the facts of the first date.
Click here for Mr. Lambo’s rendition of the facts of the second date.
Click here for Princess MoMo’s rendition of the facts of the second date.
Click here for Part I of Mr. Lambo’s rendition of the facts of the third date.
Click here for  Part I of Princess MoMo’s rendition of the facts of the third date.
Click here for Part II of Mr. Lambo’s rendition of the facts of the third date.
Click here for  Part II of Princess MoMo’s rendition of the facts of the third date.
Click here for a picture of Mr. Lambo’s Lambo.
Click here for Mr. Lambo Update (MoMo’s Version)
Click here for Mr. Lambo Update by Mr. Lambo.
Click here for Another post about Mr. Lambo (by Mr. Lambo)
Click here for Mr. Lambo – Date Planning (or lack thereof)
Click here for Valentine’s Day with MoMo Part I (Mr. Lambo’s Version)
Click here for Valentine’s Day with MoMo Part II (Mr. Lambo’s Version)

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Your “likes” and comments are encouraged and appreciated.  Thanks.

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