Dave

Another story from G-town

G-town was in one of those remote areas where people migrate to escape from people. You can live up on the mountain, and no one bothers you. There is a strong belief that everyone who lives there has a right to live the way they want, and no one else has the right to tell them how to live.

Dave lived somewhere up on a mountain near town. I never knew where exactly. Dave was a transplant from a town in New York. His claim to fame was that he was a playwright, although not one that you would have heard of. I don't know if he ever wrote anything that was actually performed. He considered himself a bit of a celebrity in town, however. Hung out at the new gas station/restaurant, talking louder than anyone else about his exploits as a playwright. One day a friend of mine introduced me when I saw her there having coffee. Susie was a chain smoker, and she and her husband would sit for hours in the gas station/restaurant, drinking coffee, chain smoking, and talking to whomever walked in. In a small town, you know everyone who walks in, if you've lived there long enough.

Dave, it seemed, had an eye for women. He decided that I was worth flirting with, so he proceeded to tell me his life story in grand form. Lots of innuendos about affairs and parties to see if I'd react strongly. It seemed to me that from that first meeting on, Dave was always at the gas station/restaurant whenever I stopped in. I was beginning to think he lived there. Perhaps he did for awhile. He always guilted me into sitting down for a visit. (Why did I fall for such guilt trips?) Eventually, I heard through some other people that Dave had a reputation for finding various ways to attract attention from the women. One day the meter reader came to his house, and her greeted here naked! That's the story that's told, anyway.

Dave was fascinated by Susan's and my involvement in the church. And he was most interested in flirting with me. I could swear he sat all day in the restaurant, just waiting to flirt with me. This was a 300 lb, older man, who always wore his shirts unbuttoned half way to his navel, and his clothes looked like they hadn't been washed in weeks! He was so sure he was sexy, and I could think of nothing more repulsive! So what did I do? I invited him to church!

Sure enough, one day Dave shows up for church... at the end of worship. He saunters into the sanctuary at 11:40 (worship started at 11:00), he walks to a pew down front, and throws himself into it with a loud creak and a sigh! This 300 lb man makes a big noise when he throws himself into a 100 year old pew! The whole congregation froze, like they had seen a ghost. They didn't know how to react! How do you react when the man who brags about his various affairs and drunken orgies shows up in worship? What do you do? Ask him to leave? Of course not. Welcome him? Of course. He not only came once, but several Sundays in a row! When do you ask him to arrive at 11 a.m., when worship starts? When do you ask him not to be so disruptive because he wants to flirt with a person in the church? When does he finally get the idea that you're not interested? It was very interesting in this small congregation of 35 attendees, watching the interaction between me and Dave. No one wanted to be rude, of course. It must have been the topic of all the gossip in town for months!

Finally, I grew braver than I had been for a long time. After worship, I walked up to Dave and said with a big old smile, "We're so glad you've come to church again!... You know it would be really helpful if you'd come somewhere around 11 when worship starts, and not make this much of a disruption when you arrive." "What do you mean?" he asks. "I mean, please don't make so much noise when you come in. It disrupts worship." Of course that was the last day that Dave was in worship. I heard he ran out of money from his one and only sale of a play, and had to move "downstate." All I know is that he quit sitting in the gas station/restaurant and he quit coming to worship. I never saw him around town, so he must have moved. Do I regret confronting him? Not really. Did I miss him? Not really. Many months after he was gone, though, I realized he was part of the fabric of G-town. He made life interesting. Then I did miss him.