Life Before Match Dot Com

Though I'm married now, there was a time- especially in my 20's- when I sincerely believed I’d always be dateless and single. Working mostly at night, 6 to 7 days a week, my social life been forced to languish on the side lines.

Can you say, LOSER?

So when a rare chance to shake off the rigor mortis slowly growing in my hardening heart and soul came along, I snapped at it. I was doing the graveyard shift at KGA in Spokane. Of course, the primary audience during those hours, especially for a station that plays country music, is mostly drunks, insomniacs, drunks, shift workers, and did I mention, drunks? Needless to say, I didn't answer a lot of in-coming overnight request line calls because they consumed up too much brain power trying to understand, reason, or just endure.

The quick hellos and, "could you play a song?" were fine. But I didn't have the time, patience or people skills to deal with the garbled, frequently argumentative or abusive ramblings of the Spokane area watering hole clientele who called our radio station after the bars closed. Nine out of ten I'd have to hang up on. The tenth one usually hung up on me. But one night there was a young female voice at the other end of the line, sober and sounding like she was calling from heaven.

The girl wanted me to play something by Barbara Mandrell. It was close to 2 a.m., I was back timing to hit the top of the hour ABC News break and not really at a spot to play a request, or figure out where I could. So sweet voice or not, I was about to give her the standard brush off. “Yeah, sure, I’ll see what I can do. Thanks for calling.”   But before I could, she followed up her request. “Ya know, I just love listening to you. You have a real sexy voice. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

Uhhhh..no. Not anytime recently. Actually, not ever.

But if she wanted to get a song played on the radio, she was going about it the right way. So we started talking. Her name was Teresa, she was 19, taking classes at Spokane Falls Community College, and loved country music. I heard what she was saying, but was more tuned into the voice. This Teresa chick had the sweetest, velvety, most feminine voice I think I’d ever heard. It was lilting, enchanting, pure and I could’ve listened to her talk all night, although that night it was only about 15 minutes. I never did get around to playing her song. I forgot.

But she called the next night, and the night after, and the night after that. Each time we talked longer, than a little longer, then a little longer still, stopping only when I had to say something on the radio. The fifth night she called at 11:05, which was right when I opened the mic for the first time. That night, she didn’t hang up until 4:50, when my shift was almost over. I hadn’t met her yet, only knew Teresa Bridgeman through our phone conversations and only for a few days, but I think I was in love.

We hit it off like we'd known each other for years. I felt a real connection; her soft, kind voice, and ease in which we conversed quickly reminded me how it’d been with of my first girlfriend, Kelly Murphy who, 6 years after the fact, had yet to completely vacate my heart. In fact, it'd been about 6 years since my last date. So that morning when I got home, and before going to sleep, instead of waiting for Teresa to call me at work I called her. She'd gladly parted with her number when I'd asked two nights before, so felt pretty sure she wouldn’t mind my call- even if it was just after 6 in the morning- and with new found boldness, I pushed ahead.

Teresa's voice was alive with smiles when she answered. “Hello again!” she greeted, practically beaming at me through the phone lines. She sounded great and happy to hear from me. Getting to the heart of the matter, I proposed we go to a movie that night and then maybe grab some dinner. I didn’t work overnight on Fridays- it was technically my one night off- and I wasn’t back on the air till 6 pm Saturday.  That meant I was free and the night was ours, and Teresa sounded as excited about it as I did.

We agreed to meet me downtown at the Fox Theater at 7. It'd be “Raiders of the Lost Ark” first, then IHOP after for dinner. Nothing too fancy or intimidating, but just right for a first date. I couldn’t wait, although I felt like I did the first time I went out with Kelly. She and I had already established a platonic friendship, but on the day of our first date I remember having the same quivering anticipation I couldn’t seem to shake now. I couldn’t eat, sleep, jog or pee it out of me, either. The feeling remained in my system and bird dogged me all day. But I loved it. I hadn’t felt so alive in a very long time. I had something to actually look forward.

Finally giving up all pretense of getting some rest, I spent the remaining hours before my date with Teresa rehearsing what to say, how to act and, of course, wondering if she’d like me or not. Then I started trying to imagine what she looked like. Though we knew each other, it was a blind date- we’d never met. She said she wasn’t very tall, which was good; neither was I. She also said she was blond; another plus. So was Kelly and I started envisioning an updated version, keeping in mind, six years had passed and this girl’s name was Teresa. I kept drilling it into my head: whatever you do, don’t call her Kelly!

Teresa said she'd be wearing a pink hoodie sweatshirt and jeans when we met up at the theater. That all sounded pretty good to me; Kelly had often dressed similarly. Again, though, I had to get that out of my mind-- Kelly was in the past. Teresa Bridgeman was in the present and I was overflowing with the expectation of meeting the girl with the alluring angelic voice.

It was a snowy night, but I could’ve cared less about the weather. I didn’t want to be late either, so raced downtown as fast as possible, for the less than ideal driving conditions, anyway. It took about a half hour but when I parked the car it was still only 6:40.  The show started at 7 allowing me a few extra seconds to take a deep breath and, checking the rear view mirror, double check I didn't look too horrible before merging into the slushy winter darkness.

Seeing I was put together as best I could, I got out and hoofed the three blocks to the theater. I was walking like trying to catch a late bus and kept telling myself to slow down; walk purposely but don’t be in a rush. I wanted to get there before Teresa did, but didn’t want to be out of breath, either; like I was in too big a hurry to meet her. I wanted to play it cool, or as cool as a “Nervous Nellie’ on a blind first blind could be. When I got to the Fox, I didn’t yet see a girl in a pink sweatshirt, so knew I’d beaten her there. Whew! It gave me a chance to relax, brush the snow off, get a lay of the land and hopefully spot her before she spotted me.

Easier said than done. The garish lighting under the marquee and around the theater entrance left no place to hide.  I settled in the margins to the left of the box office, under a playbill of a coming attraction, and tried to become as unassuming and inconspicuous as possible, although I’m sure I probably stuck out like a sore thumb, anyway; a sore thumb waiting for somebody. Nothing I could do about it, though. There wasn’t any better place to wait.

I checked my watch at 6:50 and looked up in time to see an angel; a cute blond in a pink looking shirt. She moved from the peripheral darkness of the sidewalk and into the bright neon lights of the theater's entry way. She was coming straight at me. My heart rate tripled in almost breathless eagerness. Is that Teresa? God, let it be so. The girl was gorgeous, darn near Kelly incarnate. I was about to scream ‘Thank you’ to the heavens, but then, with recognition registering on her pretty face, the girl I hoped was Teresa waved bee-lined and ran into the hug of a guy standing to my right, next to front doors. I remember seeing him there, but in white shirt and tie under his parka, I thought he was ticket taker.  

Disappointment momentarily settled over me. I hadn't been that close to somebody who reminded me so much of the girl that, on some level, I still wished to be with. It was kind of scary. But heck, Teresa could be even prettier. She might even like me, commencing the start of something potentially wonderful. Besides, with the tender voice of a goddess, I was certain Teresa just had to be a walking, living princess and the epitome of feminine beauty. Or not.

Seconds after the cute blond chick and her boyfriend went inside, a girl in a pink sweatshirt cautiously made her way towards me. She seemed to be mildly familiar with me because, unfortunately, I’d tipped her off what I was going to wear, too. And how would this person slowly approaching me know that, unless she was-- Teresa...?! Yikes.  I wanted to pretend I was someone else, but before I could she said, “Hi Rocket” and the gig was up. My heart sank, too. It was the same voice I heard on the phone, but it sure didn't match the face or at least, did not match what I hoped might be the face. Let’s just say, Teresa Bridgeman did not come completely as advertised. 

First, her hair wasn’t blond, it was red; “strawberry” blond, she later rationalized. Semantics aside, she was short but linebacker wide, too. And when she smiled, a couple of her front teeth were, uh, earth toned? And one was completely gone. While clarifying her hair color, she said the tooth fell out one night when brushing and would be repaired soon. Fair enough, although the information made me wonder about her general dental hygiene. Teeth don’t just generally fall out; not at 19. Standing face to face under the gaudy lights of the Fox foyer, though trying very hard not to fixate on her missing molar, other faces came to mind: a character from "Deliverance", for one.

To be fair, I'm no great prize, either, then or now, and I felt bad , on first reaction, that I’d judged Teresa ugly. It wasn’t right, but after building up my hopes and expectations of meeting Kelly Murphy’ long lost identical twin, had I been in a cartoon my mouth would've dropped open as my eyes popped out of my head, spilled onto the sidewalk, and ran away. The real me wanted to flee, too. However, I didn’t. I didn’t embarrass her or stand her up. Though I can’t deny part of me silently prayed that nobody would know she was with me, I escorted Teresa into the theater; I went through with our date, awkward as it was, faking a good time and finishing the evening without making too many missteps- and as quickly as possible.

However after the movie, we spent a glacially long two hours over hamburgers, coffee and strained conversation at IHOP. There I learned many things that had never come up over the phone, like her hopes of having about a dozen kids because she didn't ever want to be lonely. But no matter who she married, her Mother would always be part of the household, she continued, as if it was that was added bonus. Teresa talked so much I didn't really have the opportunity to tell her she should write me when she finds a guy willing to agree to that because it sure as hell wasn’t going to be me. 

But as she rambled on, she carried the discussion, which was fine by me; the less I said the sooner the evening would end. At least I had the good sense to pay attention and not look at the other girls, not overtly anyway. At the time, four or five 20-something chicks were having desert with their dates and I might have briefly caught myself wishing be one of the guys. However I’d wager my last five dollars none of them were wishing to be me.

The snow had stopped and it was after midnight when we left IHOP. It was still quite cold. However there was plenty of space between us as I walked her back to her car, parked a fair distance from where I’d parked mine. Quick as possible, because we were both freezing, I thanked her for a great time and bid her a good night. There was no kiss, though; we didn't even shake hands. I watched her drive off, wave, and then breathed the longest thank God this night is over sigh, and began the hike back to my own vehicle for the ride home.

But as I drove, though for once glad to be going home alone, I reflected on the evening and my life. Teresa was as nice as she could be, on the phone. But you only get one chance to make a good first impression, and unfortunately, good intentions and pleasant personality aside, Teresa hadn’t made a very good one. Not in my eyes.  Yet whose fault was that? She couldn't help it who she was and it was up to me to accept her unconditionally; kind of how she’d accepted me. No, what began to bother me anymore wasn’t Teresa’s outward appearance, but my own unattractive inward shortcomings. As I drove through the icy early pre-dawn, I saw the spotlight turned on my own flaws; my pettiness and immaturity. I realized my own ugliness had been on full display and I didn’t like it.

That was me at 26, though: a shallow, self- centered, often infantile male.  Fortunately, as a really late bloomer, I've come a long way on the road to maturity since then. Yet in hindsight, I don't see much about Rocket at 26 to like. I doubt anybody else back then would have then either, which might explain why I spent many a winter night (not to mention nights during the other three seasons) all alone. But that cold February night in 1982, unable to escape the boundaries of my own closed mind, I wanted what I wanted and what I wanted clearly wasn’t Teresa which, from my point of view anyway, doomed any possibility of a second date.

Fortunately she only knew me as “Rocket” and that’s not how I was listed in the phone book. I wasn’t paranoid about her becoming a pest or stalker- she hardly seemed the type- but the less she knew about my personal life, the less likely we’d awkwardly run into each other again. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, and wanted to be spared having to. But I couldn't escape her when I was at work. Being on KGA's 50000 watt signal at night made it really hard to hide. So she called me there. Often, and though I was always p0lite I became more and more distant; even evasive. The conversation was stilted, at least from my end, and rather than wanting to talk all night as before, I always "had to go" within a few minute of picking up.

For all practical purposes, our ‘relationship’, such as it was, no longer existed. We’d been two ships passing in the night and nothing more. And if that was clear to me, I was certain it had to be clear to Teresa too. How else to interpret my complete about face and lack of interest since our first dreadful date? That I wasn’t interested anymore, right?  But about a week into this silly game, Teresa asked if we could get together again. Good grief.

However she said I’d promised her a tour of the radio station sometime and, though things had changed- bingo! she had figured things out-  hoped that was still a possibility. She said she was still a loyal listener and just wanted to see how it all worked. (I’d almost forgotten I’d said that, too; in the first craze of infatuation- until seeing her- I’d have probably told her anything). But if I agreed, Teresa said she'd never ask another favor. I was doing the Saturday night 6-midnight shift and it was already after 10:00. So it was the weekend and after business hours; nobody but staff was allowed on the premises at those times. But taking her at her word that it’d be just a nice way to end things, if she only stayed a few minutes, I told her she could come on up.

However when she arrived, she wasn’t alone. Teresa had brought a friend; actually her cousin, Cathy. This set off alarm bells in my head. One non-approved guest would get me in trouble; two would get me fired. But I couldn’t leave either chick out in the cold. It was well below freezing; I’d either have to quickly let them in, or renege on my invitation and turn both away. Teresa recognized the dilemma and quickly explained she brought the cousin because she didn’t want to be out by herself so late at night. Fair enough. So I let them in.

And on second glance, I’m I did because it appeared Cathy had inherited all the feminine assets that’d completely bypassed her younger cousin. She was lovely. And to my surprise and, frankly, complete bewilderment, as I showed the girls around the studios showing stuff and explain things, Cathy flirted the whole time. It was an odd situation to be in, although once I figured out that’s what was happening, I became instantly charming and flirted back. Right in front of Teresa. I know that probably wasn’t the right thing to do. But hardly an expert in the language of the jungle and easily flattered, I just went with my instincts and ate it up. Besides, Cathy didn’t seem to be paying much attention to her cousin, either.

But after they left (too soon, if you asked me then; I mean Cathy could’ve stayed a while longer. I wouldn’t have minded that), Teresa never called me again.  Of course neither did Cathy. It took me a few days to figure it out, too. But I got the feeling the radio station walk though had been a set up. Bloods thicker than water and I think the pretty cousin set me up to show the homely cousin exactly what she was dealing with- a jerk.

Ouch.

Of course I had another theory, too- Cathy’s solicitous behavior wasn’t an act, but in the naked light of the next day, as I’d done with Teresa, she’d found me wanting.

Ouch.

It’s all ancient history now, though, and I have no idea what the real backstory is. But whatever it was, it turned out to be another of those great teachable life lessons, for both of us. Teresa learned what not to look for in a guy.

And I learned to never agree to blindly meet a listener calling the request line again, either. No matter how sweet or lovely she sounded, if I was ever again tempted to imagine love waited at the other end all I had to do was think back to my encounter with Teresa Bridgeman, and just say 'no'.

I also learned that, sometimes, being single isn’t so bad after all.