In response to the fictional story I recently wrote about My Date With Marilyn, below is the true account, and the experience that inspired me to write that piece.
My date with Marilyn was based on an actual date I had once. There were no Martins involved however.
I attended a Halloween party in town. This was the 90’s (my heavy drinking years) and I was plastered. I dressed as a Mexican gunfighter/outlaw from some old spaghetti western I watched once; complete with a poncho and a set of six guns. My face was covered with makeup, and a lone ranger mask.
While making my rounds around the bar, I drunkenly tripped over this missus, one with a perfect body and a mask of Marilyn Monroe. We did hit it off that night. She was intrigued by my costume, and although she seemed sincere, brains didn’t seem to be her strong point….she really believed I was from Mexico and had come to town to save her. (Talk about gullible for a twenty five year old gal).
Anyway, the night grew to a close, and being too drunk to function, I asked for her phone number and called her and me a cab (two cabs…never believed in one night stands, especially when I drank) and I went home…alone.
The next evening I called her. At first I hesitated (the thought of dating someone who I never seen without a mask on made me both excited and cautious), but I did it anyway. I should have listened to my instincts, but like I said many times in the past, the nineties weren’t the best years for me.
I drove out to a small community just outside town to pick her up. We planned on taking in a movie at the theater, and then maybe a walk on the beach…Hey Romantic, huh?
When she came out, I was surprised to see that she was quite pretty. What a chance, asking her out on a true ‘blind date’ as the last time I seen her she donned that Marilyn mask and refused to remove it.
When she got in the car, her face was priceless. “Who are you?” she asked. I replied that I was Ted, the guy who called her for a date after meeting her at the dance last night. “I don’t know you, I met a guy from Mexico, and you ain’t from Mexico” she said.
I was dumbfounded. She really thought I was from Mexico. I offered to buy another mask, laughing while doing so, but she failed to see the humor. “You mean you lied last night, you had such a perfect accent and all, I think I may have fell in love with you” she said. Being both surprised and shocked, I tried to talk to her in my best Spanish accent, but to no avail.
“I don’t know you, this date is over!” she screamed. I remember my response.
“Could you at least put on your Marilyn mask while you turn me down?” I asked, just before she slammed my car door and headed home.
Oh well, some things just aren’t meant to be I guess. Lesson learned here? Never date a woman you meet at a Halloween dance, especially in costume. Things could have been worst, she could have turned out to be a Martin.