Whale of a Good Time

Remember that book from the 80’s, Women Who Love Too Much? (Subtitled :When You Keep Wishing and Hoping He’ll Change.) Back in the day of this New York Times Bestseller there sprung up groups for, “women who believed being in love means being in pain.” Women who read this book had a history of emotionally unavailable men. I felt I belonged.

At the time I was 24, I’d been divorced for a year and my son was almost two. I was searching for clues about myself and thought I ought to go and check out this group, I bought the book and made the call. The information for this group appeared in the newspaper classifieds. I spoke to a gentleman named Mr. John Hartrader who said he was a Counselor and organized the group. I showed up one evening for this group that met once a week and was charged seven dollars each time. After two meetings I got a call from Mr. Hartrader and he asked me if I might be able to visit with him more after the next session to which I replied I could.

I thought maybe he had some special insight about me — I had been especially outspoken. I’m not sure why I was thinking that he thought I might be a leader or something — all of the women there seemed so closed compared to me. So I went to the next meeting, and kept my babysitter on for an additional hour not knowing what to expect. After the group left he asked if I might be interested in going a few blocks away to the Olive Garden where we could talk and maybe grab a bite.

We met inside the restaurant and took a table. He ordered a bottle of wine and an appetizer and began asking me personal questions that seemed not to be quite what I’d envisioned. So there I was, at the Olive Garden, sitting with a man who organized this group for heartbroken women and he was hitting on me. No, I’m not kidding.

And I asked him how much time he had and let him know I was free the entire evening. That’s when I found out his plan for me … like, I was supposed to be the entree. So I smiled politely and said that I’d be back in a moment … “I had to freshen up.” I left the table, went past the bathroom and got into my car and drove home.

And when I got home I got the message that he had called. The next day my investigation to his alleged credentials didn’t stand up, he wasn’t licensed or anything. So I called him the next day and said I’d become sick in the bathroom and felt so awful about messing up my shirt … I just had to leave — and he sympathized and asked when he might see me again. I let him know I still felt quite ill and that, hopefully I’d be better by the next session.

And so it came to be that I showed up at the next session and shared everything I knew about Mr. Hartrader with the group. I had a whale of a good time — I’ll never forget the look on his face. Still brings a smile to my lips today.