I Never Promised You A Rose Garden

Unless you’re into sports bars and mountain climbing, it can be hard to meet people in my small town. I’ve also always been a homebody who enjoys spending most of my weekends at home improvement stores, gardening, reading, and cooking – none of which is particularly conducive to meeting possible princes.

In1 my search for love, I answered a personal ad from a guy who had just bought a fixer-upper home and noted that he could use some tips on caring for a rose garden. This was a far cry from the ads of men who love “travel, fine dining, and walks on the beach.” His words had the right balance of light romance and fun. “Barney” was very flirty on the phone, and suggested that I swing by Saturday morning to give him a gardening lesson and afterwards, he’d buy me lunch.

The house was a cute bungalow in an middle-class neighborhood. I was a little surprised to see a very expensive two seater sports car in the driveway, as I was expecting something practical like a truck. Having gone this far, though, I knocked on the door. I was pleased to see Barney was dressed to get dirty, wearing painter’s pants and a work shirt. He was decent-looking, though nothing special, and a lot shorter than I expected.

After a quick tour of the house, he showed me the backyard. There were at least thirty ragged rose bushes lining the property, all of which had been neglected for years. There was a lot of work to be done, so I showed him how to find the dead wood and where to cut. He nodded, then said, “Do you mind getting started? I’m in the middle of a project I need to finish inside.” He was gone a really long time. I took care of a couple of shrubs in good faith, but finally realized he was a manipulative jerk and packed up my things to go.

He apologized and reminded me that he owed me lunch. By the time the food came, I was having a good time and starting to forgive his rudeness. He then took his dentures out of his mouth and set them on the table. He said that he had lost his front teeth in a car accident several years ago and hadn’t gotten around to having them fixed properly, so they hurt his mouth when he ate. He covered them with a spare napkin and asked me not to let him forget them when we left.

It has been nearly three years since that date, and I still haven’t forgotten watching him pick up those dirty teeth and put them back into his mouth.