A brave single guy ventures out to look for love in a really wrong place… The netherworld.
No one claims that dating these days is easy – some might even suggest that today's social scene is just plain dead. So when the "live ones" get away from you at the gym or the club, you may have to start looking elsewhere to find that special someone. The hotties of the past may be out of your league, but hey, it's not like they're getting a lot of play these days…
PART 3 – JONESIN' FOR JOAN OF ARC
Okay, so there I was in the middle of France, about to knock on Joan of Arc's door. I was a little late, but then again it was really hard finding my way around Arc without a map.
I did my research for this date. I wore a nice suit (of armor) and a chain-mail tie. Instead of flowers and chocolates, I brought a six-pack of grog and a new horse brush. Joan greeted me with a big bear hug, and then invited me in. Along with her crew cut and male attire, I was taken aback by how young she is. Just then it hit me that Joan is one in a long line of determined teenage girls who have asserted themselves over the years. She's like an old school Veronica Mars, a 15th century Felicity, a medieval Buffy.
Turning in military fashion, Joan ushered me into the furnished castle she recently sublet. It was homey, in a stone and marble sort of way. "Watch-eth thy step," Joan called out as she led me down the darkened hallway. Then I realized she meant that literally. Her horse, Chester, was standing in the foyer, marking his territory... right there on the floor. I silently wondered if it was possible to scotchguard concrete.
After I helped her put on her broadsword and matching shield, we took off to EuroDisney. (She had a coupon.) Now I didn't even know EuroDisney was still open, and I still don't, because we never got there. She wanted to drive, so we took Chester. But while galloping at full speed -- she's great in the saddle -- we came upon what she called "oppressed minions of the empire" (actually, victims of a minor bus crash). Before you could say "Whoa, Nelly!" – Chester's middle name, it turns out -- Joan was off her high horse and assisting these victims faster than a Samaritan at a leper colony. And of course, she wanted me to pitch in.
"I... just washed my hands," I said in protest, but milady would have none of that. "Buck up, young knight, and givest this wound a proper binding," she replied, handing me someone's severed limb. For a moment, I stood in awe of this awesome woman. Joan thrived in these harsh conditions, and her untiring efforts prompted me to want to assist these unfortunates with a renewed vigor that surprised even me. Of course, the thought of making out with her afterwards was also great motivation.
Six hours (and 31 makeshift leg-splints) later, both Joan and I were exhausted. We were also strangely exhilarated. Chester dropped us off at the beach, where we grabbed something eat. I stupidly suggested barbecue, but then made up for it by treating her to French fries and cream soda. We collapsed on the sand just in time to watch the sunset, which led to a tender session of handholding and cuddling. (Go ahead; call me sensitive, I don't care). It felt so nice, I even think I heard voices at one point -- talk about a religious experience!
Back home, standing in the threshold, Joan shifted back and forth nervously, so I decided not to try and invite myself in. I gave her a brotherly peck on the cheek, for which she seemed immeasurably grateful. "You're a saint," she said, and bid me adieu.
Next Time: Part 4 – Makin' Time with Marilyn Monroe
AllStar is a writer/photographer currently based in South Florida. Send comments, suggestions, and photo shoot requests to AllStar@godsgirls.com.
(Dates With Dead Babes Parts 1 & 2 may be found in the archives.)
