VIOLENT PROFESSOR GIRL
Her emails to me were each four pages long, dripping with sex and longing and romance. Yet she shied away from the idea of dating me. I was too young for her, so she said, I was from New Jersey and she was from the city, and there were other obstacles, such as my uncanny resemblance to her ex. But she wanted my advice, and there was, in her words, just something about me. So we decided to get together.
During our discussion, over dinner at the Brew Pub, I found her much different than her email personality. She'd been too shy to talk to me on the phone, so our date was arranged by email. In person, she was an angry, bitter, infuriated woman, prone to breaking dishes, screaming and slapping people. For a hundred reasons, we weren't a match, but I'd known that already.
I tried to give her what post-divorce advice I could, and she angrily told me that I wasn't a licensed psychotherapist, and she already had two of those. I won't go into why that was interesting, particularly as it was part of a criminal case, but I remember not being put off by her hostility and soldering on in the face of her barbed comments. She continued on in her rant about what the hell did I know, and finally I asked her the question:
Honey, right now, what do you want most in life?
My steak had just arrived. It sizzled on the plate and the aroma filled my senses.
She looked me right in the eye as she leaned closer. Her raspy voice was dripping with contempt.
"For this date to be over as soon as possible."
I smiled at her. Finally I could so something for her.
You just got your wish, I said.
I put my knife down, stood up and walked out of the restaurant.
I'd only stiffed one or two women with the bill in my entire life. This one seemed to deserve it.
Still, my hand shook as I opened the door of the car. I wondered whether she would exact her revenge.
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