(**Note: I’m still going thru my old scrapbook stories, so many of my newer posts are derived from that.)
I used to live in an area where there was a flight school, so whenever my friends and I went out, we’d always meet pilots. I was probably in my late 20s when I met a pilot from Venezuela. He was in his 30s, and we hit it off immediately. I thought he had a lot of class, intelligence, and was attractive. He’d told me he’d been divorced for 7 months, but hadn’t been together with the wife “in a long time”.
I was really looking forward to getting to know him better, but after the crooked married cop situation, I decided to do a little research. Lo and behold, there was no divorce. When confronted, he became defensive and thought I was being ridiculous. I told him to call me when the divorce was final. I got a call from him a few months later at the beginning of the summer, and supposedly the papers were signed. Then the asshole stood me up for a date.
At the end of July, I bumped into him at a club where he introduced me to his new girlfriend. Four months later, they were engaged. Fly away, birdie, fly away!
Another pilot I met at a Best Buy while we were both arguing with the jerk at the computer repair dept. He seemed really cool, only a couple years older, and he was kind of hot. The first night we went out, he said, “I think I could fall in love with you.”
That was waaayyy too soon for a first date, and it completely scared me off, so I never called him again. I saw him around a few more times, and he thought I hated him. I didn’t hate him, but I was certainly not ready for the “L” word either.