Unwilling Mistress: The Nikilovely Story, pt. II (or actually pt.1, cuz I never really told the story. I should probably name this something else.)

Okay. So you want details, huh? Perhaps I should establish a timeline….except no, because I don’t really remember when this stuff happened. How about a list?

First: I went to a “ball” that was more like a junior high school dance, if your daddy picked the music, and he was a Southern Baptist deacon. Lot of “Hole in the Wall” type songs. This was fun in itself, except for the fact that I had been marathon shopping for the perfect dress for a week, when I totally could’ve worn something out of my closet and been the best dressed woman there. (Well, me and the State Representative’s wife. She’s really pretty, and she liked my dress.) Ah well. Anyway, I had a date to said event, but we were meeting there. It was a blind date (UGH), and we weren’t allowed to talk prior to the event because he has a smart mouth and I have a penchant for ripping people new ones. Anyway. He told me through a third party that he would be a little late, but ended up being like 2 and a half hours late. That’s why it was a bad idea to not let us speak to each other. Because had he spent 10 minutes in conversation with me prior to this night, he would’ve known that this was a BAD idea. Anyway, I don’t know if he thought that I’d spend those two hours crying at the table, but whatev. I wasted no time in establishing steady flirtation with the DJ. This is easily done when you’re the first one on the dance floor. The DJ was about 6’5”, broad shouldered, rough handed, deep voiced, and cute. I introduced myself to my date, danced one song and promptly dismissed him. “Don’t feel obligated to spend what remains of the night over here,” I told him. “I’m quite successful at keeping myself entertained —by all means— go join your friends.” This story is about the DJ.

Next night: Rolling over to check my voice mail (I’m as bad about that as I am about posting.)…I have 19 messages?! Granted, these accumulated over a week, but still. Everybody that knows me knows that it’s worthless to leave me voice messages. Seven of them are from him. Within a 24 hour period. I debate returning his call, because—hello? Bug me much?—but I did anyway. What the hell.


The day after that, but irrelevant and only in here because it’s funny. The date calls me, and we have the following conversation…

D: Hi, I just called to say hey and that I had a good time yesterday.
NL: (thinking) Me, too…just not with you. Wait, how did you get my number?
D: Hello?
NL: …oh, yeah, thanks.
D: Yeah, you were wearing that dress.
NL: Thanks.
D: So, what’re you doing? Why do you sound like that?
NL: Well, I’m watching this documentary on the Holocaust. (which would kind of answer both questions, no?)
D: What, that thing about the dog? Yeah, I think my brother n’ nem are in there watching that.
NL: …
NL: (thinking) No, not ‘that thing about the dog.’ Rather, that thing about the millions of Jews that were systematically murdered during one of the most catastrophic historical periods in recent history. Specifically, about the families that were separated and destroyed, and their attempts to piece together any shred of information they can verify, almost six decades later. Please go die now.

NL: Well, thanks for the date and all…it was nice meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime. Bye.

Switch hook: CLICK.



Now, I’m realizing that this is getting incredibly long, and may need to be done in 2 or 3 parts. I’ll just end it with this conversation between myself and the DJ, about a week later.

DJ: Blah, blah, blah…wanna get to know you, blah, blah, blah, ask me stuff.
NL: Yeah, that’s great. Blah, blah, flirty, blah.
DJ: No, really. What do you want to know about me?
NJ: Well, okay. Are you from here, blah blah?
DJ: Yes. (WARNING SIGN) My parents blah, blah, my family for years, blah.
NJ: Oh, cool. So you’re very family oriented, huh? Have you ever been married? (The DJ is 10 years my senior.)
DJ: No.


That’s where we’ll end it for today, boys and girls. Join us tomorrow as we fall farther and farther into the Pit of Lies.