Pistol Packing Pete

As I read about our dating woes, I'm reminded of Pistol Packing Pete. No, that's not his real name. Didn't ya notice the "Pistol Packing" part...I have to protect myself you know.

So, I'm out of town on business and one of my pseudo clients meets me out for a night on the town. Thinking she's just coming out to introduce me to her famous baseball player look-a-like cousin, I'm not very pressed about the situation. (I don't usually go out drinking with the client....but was forced to rethink that when I was told about the cousin.) My co-workers and I are chillin at the bar, taking in the Red Sox/Yankees game when in walks Bertha (just following Jenny's lead on the fake names) with a guy I assume to be her beau. Introductions take place and I come to find out this dude is not her soul mate, but her roommate, Pete. She brought him out with the sole purpose of introducing him to the "awesome chick she met at work"....that would be me folks.

The night ends with me avoiding the fact that Pete is trying to ask me out. I found him to be a nice guy, but not someone I would normally be interested in. He wears 2 gold chains, has an earring and I have to admit it, he had some bad shoes on and we all know that alone is a deal-breaker. (While not totally turned-off by earrings, let's just say it doesn't work for Pete.) Did I mention that he was not really into sports? Why can't I spot a red flag when its two feet from my face, waving like the checkered flag at the Daytona 500???

The next day on way home, my phone rings. It's Pete. He got my number from Bertha, as we had exchanged digits when planning the night out. Blah, blah, blah, long story short, we make plans to go out. First date, not so bad....go out for dinner, take a walk...decent time. I'm still having issues with the jewelry at this point.....but again, trying to be a better person and seeing people for what's on the inside and not so much on the outside.

Date # 2 is where it all goes to hell. Pete says he wants to come to town to cook me dinner....not one to turn down a free meal, whether its at a restaurant or prepared in my home, I say yes. I had also made a decision that I was not going to let some jewelry a pair of bad shoes make up my mind about someone who seemed like a nice guy. Girls, please note here....LISTEN TO THE SHOES....THE SHOES NEVER LIE!!!

Pete arrives at my house with groceries in tow. He comes in, takes off his shoes and I see him take something out of the waist of his shorts. His gun....no, not THAT gun, a REAL gun. Now folks, I'm from a family of men who hunt, so I'm no stranger to guns...but really, do I want a handgun in my home? No, I do not. I ask why he has it.....habit, he says. (Pete is in law enforcement, so he carries one for work, but FYI, he was not working!) So now, not only do I have issues with the fact that he has no style, I'm forced to deal with the fact that there is a pistol laying by my front door. I ignore the gun, eat the dinner and after a couple of glasses of wine (the bought cheap stuff by the way...screw-top), I make out with Pete and come to find that he has his nipple pierced. While some folks are turned on by a chunk of metal through the nipple, I personally, am not.

Time goes by (a week, I think) and Pete and I are supposed to go out again. The more I think about the impending date, the more I don't want to go. I figure I'd suck it up and go out and give Pete another chance, but when he tells me he's not sure which pants to wear because his gun doesn't fit in them.....ummmm...excuse me????? Yes folks, he was really going to bring his gun to dinner.....at restaurant! Who does that?

This of course, was the end of Pistol Packing Pete.......and the inspiration for my novel "Guns, Gold Chains and Bad Shoes.....Who Not To Date"