Why Me?
Fuck.
The date with E. went very well. He’s good looking, intelligent, straight-forward, a good conversationalist, great kisser… but, you see, I met someone else last night before I saw E. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to meet someone I can’t stop thinking about.
There are times that I can be somewhere and upon meeting someone KNOW that’s why I’m there. Our paths have crossed for a reason and I had that OVERWHELMING FEELING last night.
The registration on my car is dead and has been since June 1st. I just haven’t had the money to pay the taxes and the registration fee. I still don’t and I don’t know where that money is going to come from, but I’m sure within 10 days I can come up with it.
I was sitting in traffic, getting ready to make a left hand turn, and the police officer sitting in the center lane happened to notice that my registration is expired. Normally, even though I’m very much a law abiding citizen, I get very nervous when I’m pulled over. However, I knew I was busted, no denying it, so as the officer walked up to my car window I was oddly calm. I had my license, dead registration, and insurance card waiting for him.
He was gorgeous.
He took my information and asked if I knew my registration was expired. I said, “Yes, sir. I do know that.” He looked at me as though I had grown two heads. He then asked how long I had know it was expired and I said, “Since it expired.”
“Some people have no idea that their registration has expired.”
“Oh, no, I’ve known. I just haven’t had extra money to get it taken care of.”
“Are you aware of the process you have to go through to renew your registration?”
“Yes, sir. I have to pay the taxes and then pay the registration fee but I just haven’t had the extra money and I know I have to get it taken care of.”
“I understand. I’m going through a divorce . . . “
“I’m so sorry!” and I was, kind of, “I had a house fire in January, you can see the stuff still in the back of my car. . . “
He smiled and looked down at my information again and he got a very sorry look on his face, “I have to cite you for this.” He was almost apologetic.
“I know. I understand.”
“You know, you’re going to get pulled over for this anyway, so…”
“I know. Its okay.” He looked at my information again and asked whether 10 days would be enough time to get the registration taken care of. I got my cellphone, pulled up the calendar, counted out 10 days, and I told him the truth.
“I’m not going to lie to you, I don’t know, but I will try.”
He got that worried look on his face again.
“Look, we’re going to send this to DMV in 10 days and they’ll suspend your license, which is a huge hassle. You’ve been very honest and polite so if you can’t get this done, you call me, Officer D., ask for me personally and I’ll remember you since I issued the citation, and I’ll try to help you out. Just because I wear a uniform doesn’t mean I haven’t been there.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.”
He walked back to his cruiser and I watched him in my side mirror (meowrrr…purrrr…) and then pulled my skirt down a little further and wondered what I could pawn or sell to pay for this fiasco as people drove by gawking at me.
He came back and said, “Don’t you hate it how people stare at you while you’re pulled over?”
“Yeah, I thought about opening the door and sticking out my bare leg, really give them something to talk about.”
He laughed and explained the citation to me again, reiterating that I must call him if I can’t get it taken care of and he would see if he could help me out. I thanked him again and he wished me a good evening.
“Be safe, Officer D.”
And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since. When E. kissed me the first time, I thought, “I wish you were T.D.” Damn, I just realized we have the same first and last initials.
Anyway, even after a great date and a lot of smooching and so forth, on the way home, I though of Officer D. And he was the last thing I thought about before I fell asleep, and the first thing I thought about when I woke up, and I’ve thought about him all day. I told E. about it even and he said, “Well, sounds to me like he would like for you to call him, regardless. You don’t let a woman know you’re single and share personal information with them unless you’re interested.”
By the end of the week, Officer D. will receive a personal call from me. First, to let him know I did get my car registration taken care of… second, to ask him out for a cup of coffee or a beer or a milkshake or a walk in the park. The park is quite beautiful at night, even with those pesky orbs floating around.
*Sigh*
Why can’t I just have a normal life?

















