One Fork, no Refrigerator, no Answering Machine

Try, if you might, to imagine life in the days when not everyone had a computer -- or for that matter, had even been on a computer. In the grand scheme of things it wasn't that long ago, but while reading this story, it will sure seem so!

* * * * * * * * * *

It was a beautiful, mild November morning in the country. I had just returned from jogging when I noticed a friend of mom's and this guy standing on the roof of our trailer. (A cool 1954 Vagabond trailer is located on my mom's property -- it came with the purchase of the house.)

I waved hello, and climbed up on the roof to join them. My mom's friend explained that they were planning to paint the roof. I was introduced to the guy, and the three of us began chatting. Hmm... he's kind of cute....

In conversation, I mentioned I had just gotten a new laptop computer, and that I did some surfing on the Internet. He commented, "Wow! You've been on the Internet? I've never even used a computer!"

"I can bring my laptop with me the next time I visit, and show you what it's like to surf the Web." He was very excited by this offer, and gladly gave me his number.

I called him the following weekend, and we arranged to meet. Soon I was on my way to his house, laptop in hand, ready to give my first computer lesson. After I arrived and we exchanged hellos, I said, "Okay, I need a phone jack and an outlet."

"Those are in the kitchen," he replied, leading the way. I settled in, and looked around. Something seems to be missing... something's not right here... what's wrong with this picture? Then it struck me: "Hey! Where's your refrigerator?"

"Oh, my refrigerator broke, and I never got a new one."

"How long ago was that?" I asked, astonished.

"Almost a year ago." A year? He's been living a year without a refrigerator? I could never live without my refrigerator -- it's the lifeblood of my existence!

Then something else dawned upon me: "Wait a minute -- where's your stove?"

Very matter-of-fact, he replied, "Oh, my stove had a mouse living in it, so I dragged it outside, and then I forgot about it. It got all rained on and rusty, and now it's ruined. It's still out there."

"But... how can you live without a stove?" I asked, once again in astonishment.

"The main thing I used it for was boiling water, so when I need to do that I ask my neighbor." No refrigerator and no stove. Having to ask a neighbor to boil water? I guess he's not the domestic type!

After somewhat getting over my disbelief regarding his lack of kitchen essentials, we proceeded to have our Internet lesson. I said, "Pick a topic -- any topic, and we'll do a search on it."

He thought very intently, and then said, "Um... um... how about... Ormes?"

"Ormes?" I politely questioned, as I thought, What the hell is that? I guess I'll soon find out....

I found several pages about this scientific process (in case you're simply dying to know, it's short for "Orbitally Rearranged Monatomic Elements"). Well, if this is one of his interests, at least he's somewhat intelligent. Either that, or he's just plain weird. Knowing my luck with guys, it's the latter.

When we finished, he said he had something for me, for taking the time to give him the lesson. He brought out a five-pound crate of clementines. It was indeed a touching gift. And he insisted upon taking me out for dinner.

At dinner, I ordered a vegetable dish that turned out to be a bit bland, so I added a few drops of hot pepper oil from the jar on the table (we were at a Chinese restaurant). Following my use of the oil, he put some on his dish as well. But he didn't know how hot the oil was, and put on way too much. This caused a coughing fit, and he couldn't finish his meal. It was one of those, "Oh, I feel terrible -- yet, let me try not to laugh" situations.

We spoke later in the week when I was back in the city. Thanksgiving was approaching, and I asked what he was doing for the holiday. "Nothing," he replied. (Previously, he'd told me both of his parents had died, and he wasn't very close to his brother or sisters.) I felt bad that he wasn't going to have anything special to do. Coincidentally, I didn't have plans either, because my family's get-together was going to be the day after, so we arranged to have Thanksgiving dinner together. I saw my good friend Nancy in the city during the day, packed some food for us, and took a late afternoon bus to the country.

I arrived with many containers of food. I figured we were going to have to ask a neighbor to heat up the food for us, but in the interim he had acquired a toaster oven. I actually got excited over it. "Wow! Great! A toaster oven!" While the food was heating, I said, "Now we need some plates and forks."

He took out two plates, but said, "I only have one fork."

"You only have one fork? Well, do you have any plastic forks then?"

"No," he replied, "but I have chopsticks."

Eating Thanksgiving dinner with chopsticks? I can't believe this! I don't think the Pilgrims ever ate their Thanksgiving dinner with chopsticks. So much for the spirit of the Pilgrims.

He said, "You can use the fork."

"No, no -- you use the fork. I'll use the chopsticks."

After dinner, he told me he had something for me. He handed me a wrapped box. "Happy Thanksgiving!" he exclaimed. Christmas -- yes, birthday -- yes. But presents for Thanksgiving? Who ever heard of such a thing? But that's sweet -- he's being nice, wanting to give me something.

I began to guess what the gift could be, and after a few guesses I narrowed it down to a kitchen appliance of sorts. I opened the box to find a Mouli grater (a 1950s metal food grater with interchangeable disks). "Oh, it's really nice, but... I already have a Mouli grater."

"You already have one? I can't believe you already have one!"

"Yes, it's true. I have a lot of kitchen gadgets."

"That's okay," he said enthusiastically, as he got up and opened a desk drawer. "I have a backup present." He handed me a second wrapped box. I unwrapped this box and uncovered a pair of "Eagle Eyes" sunglasses.

"Oh, what a coincidence," I remarked, " 'Eagle Eyes' used to be my nickname when I was little, because I always found stuff on the beach... these will be good for driving... I don't have any sunglasses in my car." I was grasping at straws for reasons to like the unfashionable, amber-colored sunglasses -- the same type I'd always described as the kind of sunglasses that "make the world look like a nuclear wasteland."

That night, I didn't have any desire to do stuff with him because, well, aside from realizing we hardly had anything in common, I decided I really do need a guy with a stove and refrigerator, and at least two forks. A girl has certain standards, you know!

In the morning, I took a shower. The water was on the cold side of tepid. It sputtered and spattered out of the nozzle. The shower curtain kept touching me, no matter how far away from it I stood. (I hate when that happens.)

For my morning cup of coffee, I had to drive into town. (Coffee maker? You must be positively bonkers.) As I drank my coffee in a nearby café, I thought, No... no... this is not for me -- and this is not a matter of my usual pickiness.

I have yet to tell him I'm not the perfect girl for him, or I should say: he's not the perfect guy for me. He's such a kind, sweet person, I'm having a hard time making the call. A friend said he probably thinks of me as a sparkling gem in his quiet country life. "Yeah," I replied, trying to make light of the situation, "and I didn't even wear one of my glitter outfits." I suppose sometime soon I'll have to be the grim reaper, and tell him things aren't going very well between us.

I've called about five times since I stayed over that night, and I haven't been able to reach him. He wasn't home, and he didn't have... (you guessed it)... an answering machine. I mean, should that surprise me? No, I guess it just frustrates me.

My extent of living in the past is through my collecting of beautiful antiques, but I've come to realize I also have a love of modern conveniences. It must be the city girl in me.