Double Bagger

One bit of clarification I found on the "Ask a Guy" forum was the definition of the term "Double Bagger." Actually, I found 2 complementary definitions. It's either dating a woman so ugly you put two paper bags over her head - the second in case the first one breaks. The other: you put one bag over her head and the other over yours, in case hers breaks.

Now this story is apropos of nothing other than I pulled a double bagger of my own Saturday when I got invited out to lunch with someone after accepting the invite to see Queensryche that evening. In an effort to prove myself after last week's dating debacle, I went for it and did back-to-back dates in a single day - a first even for me.

I met the Insitg8tor (that was his vanity license plate number) at a lake-side beach and boardwalk in central New Hampshire. He was well-put-together, chatty and not unpleasant company as we tooled around town in his BMW convertible on a rare sunny day this dreary summer. He works in the construction trade and offered to tour me around a part of the island I had never been - a circle of million dollar oceanfront homes he had worked on variously over the years. Because of this, he knew which ones were for sale and vacant. We pulled into the first driveway and looked out over the abandoned dock and lake-front. "Can we go sit on the dock?" I asked, and knowing the homes were unoccupied and for sale, the Instig8tor agreed. We sat in over sized Adirondack Chairs as the choppy waters lapped up over the teak decking at our feet.

The first house was so much fun I insisted on doing the same with 2 other houses, each time imagining having the money to buy a second home for $6.8 million. So we were the waterfront vacation-home crashers for the afternoon - sitting in the sun and stealing the views. We knew if anyone questioned us - with his BMW sitting in the drive way - we could convincingly say we saw the for sale sign and decided to take a look to see if we were interested in buying the place.

We had a lot of fun although I admit he did most of the talking. The Rules would approve - I let him go on - and tried to look fascinated with his stories. He was mildly amusing and I wouldn't turn him down if he calls again.

Then I scooted over to the ocean to meet up with bachelor #2 Mark, with Queensryche tickets in hand. We took in dinner and drinks at a rooftop deck as the sun set and meandered over to the site of the concert. After being ID'd and frisked (not kidding) we presented the tickets and were told they were for another night - that's right, we got the date wrong.

You can tell a lot about a person by how they react to a change in plans. I turned to Mark and said "Time to play Skee Ball!" which we did in the nearby arcade. He didn't talk about himself all evening and even asked a few questions about me. How refreshing!

And while he was a good looking man, I have to ask Tammy what edition of GQ she has been reading. He reminded me of a cross between Steve Martin and Phil Hartman. And he didn't have a provoking vanity license plate - so I think if I had to choose, I'm going with #2.

I got home around 1am and thought about my over-ambitious-as-usual plans of that day. Tammy called to ask how things went. "I wanted to introduce you to a nice guy because your nice guy meter seems to be broken," she chided me. She's right. Time to take the bag off my head and pay attention.