The Official Rules of Dating - and the stories that caused them to exist.


Rule #1 - Being polite isn't always the right thing to do.
Rule #2 - The seating arrangements.
Rule #3 - Men lie in bars.
Rule #4 - Suggestive messages.
Rule #5 - Don't fess up until you know it's safe.
Rule #6 - Always bring a Sharpie.
Rule #7 - Not everybody gets turned on by the same thing.
Rule #8, 9 and 10 - Three rules in one story.
Rule #11 - The blind squirrel rule.
Rule #12 - The blind squirrel - part 2.
Rule #13 - It's OK to bail out.
Rule #14 - National monuments.
Rule #15 - Banjos and a squealing pig.

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Rule #1
I met Claudia when I was 15. She was the first girl friend to me that was more than just a name on a locker. The first one that held promise to be more than a date to the movies and a nervous kiss goodnight. I'm not sure why I felt this way - I don't recall her saying so. But there was something in how she looked at me that promised the potential for real intimacy. Before long it was understood we were "going together".

Claudia had one outstanding feature - well, two actually. She was amazingly well endowed, and on her barely five foot tall frame it seemed that that was about all of her that there was to see. In any event, it was about all that any of the guys noticed. But she did have a beautiful smile on the occasion when you could tear your eyes away long enough to notice.

When I turned 16 I got my driver's license and visited her often in the evenings after school. Her parents' home was just a short drive across town. We'd always look for ways to be alone on the front porch swing or walking around the neighborhood in the cool night air. We flirted endlessly, kissed occasionally and on rare occasions she allowed me to get to second bass. But that's where it always ended. Not that I had the confidence or knowledge to push it further, but I guess I just sorta hoped that somehow it would happen of its own accord. I was very hazy on how this might work. I had no details in my mind on any sort of plan that would cause it to happen, I just thought if we hung around long enough, it might.

But as I said, even trips to second bass were infrequent. I was always looking for the trigger that made her change her mind. Maybe, I thought, it's the porch swing. She let me touch her one time when we were there. Maybe it's the swing that does it. But then the next time she moved my hand away. I sifted through the possibilities - maybe it's a particular night like Saturday night. Maybe it's after watching a certain TV show that was exciting. Maybe a full moon. Nothing seemed to pan out. It never dawned on me that I might have any input.

One night she called and in the course of the conversation mentioned something about her parents not being home. She said it very casually. I didn't take it to mean much except that I figured we could sit on the swing and kiss and not worry about her old man coming out the door suddenly. I hurried over to her house anxious to get on the swing, remembering that this was still the most successful route to second base.

Claudia answered the door wearing a fur coat - her bare legs sticking out beneath. It was summertime and the fur coat seemed out of place. She was laughing and talking very fast - something about just getting out of the shower and she hadn't had time to get dressed when she heard my knock on the door. She had just thrown the coat on with nothing on underneath it and dashed to the door. She was holding it shut, probably hadn't had time to even button it properly. I noticed her hair was dry and guessed she had showered with a cap on. I gave myself a pat on the back for being observant about this. Other people might not have noticed this interesting detail.

She repeated at least once that she should probably get dressed since she didn't have anything on under the coat. She seemed anxious in some way, however, being the perfect gentleman that I was, I assured her there was no rush. She could take her time and I would wait patiently in the living room - which I did. While Claudia was getting dressed, I gave myself credit for that too. In my mind I added patient and thoughtful to my list of good qualities.

Looking back on this, I probably should add "idiot" to the list.

Rule #1 Being polite is not always the right thing to do.


Rule #2
I was playing in a band in Atlanta at the Stone Pony which was a popular spot at the time. Five girls from Gainesville showed up at the gig ready to party. There were five members in the band and the girls made an offer for all of us to come to their motel room(s) afterwards. One thing that was unusual is that all five were attractive. That rarely happens as you can imagine. I saw it as a no-lose situation. The second unusual thing that happened that night is that all four of the other band members had something else to do!! Young guys are rarely too busy for this kind of set-up and I was in total disbelief.

Despite this, I went to meet them afterwards alone at their motel. I sat on the edge of a bed and was literally surrounded by attractive women. Someone mentioned that they had another room next door so it was clear that I could take one by the hand to the other room and the remaining four would stay behind. Or at least I thought that was clear. One thing I hadn't yet learned about women is that the seating arrangement is never by accident. Women are incredibly skilled at arranging it so that unsuspecting men find themselves seated next to the woman that the gals want him to connect with. There was one gal with an amazing figure sitting next to me practically bouncing up and down ready to go. Others seemed eager as well. My mind raced trying to make a choice in what seemed like a win-win situation. Finally I decided on a pretty blonde who reminded me of someone I had known, always wanted, but could never get. I didn't notice at the time that she was sitting in a chair furthest from me of anyone.

It was right about then that she said, "I'm going to go for a drive. Anyone want to come?" There was dead silence. I knew it meant something, I just didn't know what. This must've been some sort of signal, but I couldn't figure out what. I decided that since she was the one I wanted, this would be a good way to isolate her from the others, so I said yes. It didn't take long on our drive to figure out that I had guessed wrong. She was signaling to the others that she was not interested and trying to help clear the room of anyone else who wasn't. That means that out of five girls, four were interested. I managed to pick the one that wasn't. By the time we got back from our drive, the other four (who had been drinking heavily) were all passed out.

0-5. That's embarrassing.

Rule #2 The seating arrangements are never accidental.


Rule #3
A story from a female friend:
The first time I went to a bar with the intention of hooking up, I meet a group of men, two of them are doctors, one is a dentist and the other is a pharmaceutical sales rep. I'm thinking "yeah right" because honestly none of them seem all that bright, but they are good looking and I sort of feel for them because guys have it rough (as much as I feel lost in all of this- I've found that men tend to be willing to overlook much more than women are). I'm guessing they've hatched this story because they think women are only interested in money, status, etc. So we are talking and drinking beer, a lot of beer, which I usually avoid because it makes me drunker faster than other forms of alcohol. But I need the courage, right? Plus, in my experience to this point, it is tough for me to get across to guys that I'm really just interested in having fun. I'm thinking the beer will help me move things along in the direction I want them to go...

We are talking and flirting and having fun and it comes out they are visiting from Kentucky and I'm thinking this is great because I'm new at this and I don't want to end up at a PTO meeting with a hook-up. Somehow, it's a bit foggy because of how drunk I am, I end up making out with one of the "doctors". I'm really enjoying myself and thinking this guy is very cool. At some point he starts talking about going back to his hotel room, but by then a lot of time has passed and I'm realizing there's three other guys hanging around somewhere and I don't really know these people so as much as I want to, it's probably not a smart thing to do. Plus, I need to find my friend who I came with, so that is the end of it and I leave with a nice memory and a bit more courage than I had before....
Or so I think. I have to go to a specialist the next week because my doc thinks I have Celiac's disease, which is an inability to digest things made from wheat, rye and barley (like beer.)
So when I meet the new doc - guess who it is? Yep, the one I had been making out with - complete with his wedding ring this time. It's super awkward, more for him than me, it's almost amusing watching him try to keep his composure and ask questions about my diet, etc. Finally in the middle of discussing lab work, he blurts out, "men lie to women in bars...," like he has to defend himself to me."But they lie about being doctors, not about being from Kentucky," I say, then we just continue as if nothing happened. He uses Celiac's to explain my reaction to beer, so the whole evening becomes a part of the diagnosis.

I did feel bad about his being married, though. I felt sufficiently chastised to behave myself for a while after that...

Nashville is a very small town.

Rule #3 Men lie in bars.


Rule #4
A story from a female friend:
The first time I decided to be impulsive and send an explicit text to someone, I was sitting bored at my son's hockey game. I was moving back and forth between sending suggestions to the coach on the bench and composing my message. Turns out smart phones are not all that smart... and in fact actually lower the IQ of the person using them (at least they have that effect on me.) The game got more exciting and I was pretty excited about my message and sent it without noticing that I just started typing in the string of the most recently received message, which didn't turn out to be the intended recipient, but the other coach who had never texted me before but thought the middle of the game was an appropriate time to outline the favors I would be required to offer each of the coaching staff before they would take my strategy suggestions seriously. (I hadn't even noticed or read the message, I thought I was continuing a previous conversation...) So in context, it was pretty difficult to make the case I sent it the wrong person...

On the positive side, though... my kid got a lot of ice time the last period of the game. Plus at least I didn't include pictures.

Rule #4 The more suggestive the message, the more important it is to verify the recipient.


Rule #5
This is how I met my first wife.

There was a time when I got burnt out from travel on the road and came home to Kingsport, TN for a year to re-charge my batteries. I got a gig playing saxophone in a local band (hadn't played sax since high school, but that's what they needed). The band leader's name was Richard and we practiced at his house. He had the sweetest wife you'd ever want to meet named Jackie. Everyone loved Jackie. I had a hidden fantasy for her that I couldn't share with anyone. (Talk about small towns - news travels like the wind in Kingsport.) In fact I went overboard to hide my feelings.

As a sax player, I wasn't needed on all the songs (like bass and drums would be) so I spent part of every gig sitting in the audience with the band wives and girl friends. They were thrilled to have someone "safe" to talk to and dance with and I took turns being careful not to show favoritism. But in Jackie's case I went too far. I didn't even ask her to dance because I was afraid somehow I'd give myself away.

Eventually the band broke up and that was the end of that. But then months later I heard through the grapevine that Jackie and Richard had gotten a divorce. The minute I heard the news I jumped in my car and drove across town as fast as I could and knocked on the door where they had lived - hoping that she would still be there. (Somehow in my mind, driving fast improved my chances.) Jackie answered the door and here's where my lie comes in. "Hi", I said, "is Richard home?" She said they had gotten a divorce and I was, "Oh, I'm so sorry" and carried on for awhile like that. She invited me in and we talked the night away and wound up making a date for later. We continued to date until I went back on the road and then years later I ran into her again and we re-kindled and got married.

After we were married someone asked us how we met. She started to answer and I had to confess, "Uh, sorry dear, but you don't really know the whole story." I told her what I had done and we had a laugh.

Talk about putting yourself out there - I have no idea what I would have said if Richard had opened the door.

Rule #5 Don't fess up until you know it's safe.


Rule #6
Here's a dating story from Atlanta from before I moved to Nashville.

I was seeing this gal and we had just had a good time in bed and she had to go pick up her kids. We were almost dressed and I was about to leave when there was a knock at the door. She answered it. I was out of sight of the door but I could hear that it was a guy that wanted to come in the house - apparently another suitor. And... he was really drunk. She tried to get rid of him, but he was being stubborn. After some arguing she slammed the door and came back in the apartment in tears. She made apologies to me and tried to gather herself. He pounded on the door again and she answered it with the same result as before. This happened over and over. Each time he became more belligerent and she became more distraught.

Meanwhile I just wanted to leave. I checked, but there wasn't a back door. (I was playing the Allman Brothers song in my head - Ain't but one way out.)

This dragged on for some time and after awhile I heard a second voice outside. It seemed like one of the neighbors was getting tired of all the yelling and joined in the discussion but nothing was getting better. The first guy was kicking out flood lights and throwing beer cans and raising hell.

Now I am normally (and almost always) a calm guy, but this was getting on my nerves. Every time she'd come in she was more hysterical than the time before. And she didn't want me going out and getting in the middle of it, and truth is I didn't want to either, but it was looking more and more like that was the only option. I'd been sitting quietly a long time and was feeling trapped and getting angry. So when she was back outside for round 10 of their argument I lost my temper and stormed out the door. I was yelling and mad as hell and the guy was totally freaked out to see that there was someone else there. He backed up immediately and I backed him all the way down the sidewalk despite her screaming and trying to stop me. (Not sure why.) The funny thing was, the other guy that was there was backing up with him. Apparently he wasn't a neighbor after all. I stopped about halfway down the sidewalk but the two of them kept going and got in their van. Then it suddenly dawned on them like it did to me - hey there's two of them and only one of me. Gulp. They weren't driving off and I could see they were about to get back out of the van, so I reached in my pocket and pulled out a Sharpie - you know, those felt time markers? I held the grey part out in front of me hoping in the dim night light it would look like a knife. Apparently it did because they took off fast.

I wound up riding with her to pick up her kids. They were at the Exes house. He wasn't home. While we were there, the same guy called her at his house and the arguing began again. I finally convinced her to call the police 'cause we had to go back to her apartment and this guy wasn't going to back off and trouble was clearly on the way and her kids were now in the picture. So we went back to the apartment and the police came. Sure enough the guy called to find out where she was and was going to come back over when she put the cop on the phone. The cop put an end to it but the other guy kept saying, "But what are you going to do about the guy with the knife?". The girl and I both looked innocent as hell saying "What knife? There was no knife". She didn't know any better having not seen what I had done, but I knew deep down that I was still carrying a dangerous felt tip marker in my pocket. Fortunately, that was the end of it.

Rule #6 - Always bring a Sharpie to hook-ups because you just never know.


Rule #7
In my younger days I was a traveling musician and there were lots of opportunities. And along with various opportunities came varieties of experiences.
One evening I was in bed with this gal - giving her the full attention of my youthful energies (how's that for tasteful?) and she just started talking. And I don't mean sexy talking, it was like "You know, I went to the mall today and ran into Lisa and John and then we got something to eat and shopped for awhile and I got some new jeans and Lisa picked out an orange top. It was really pretty and I would have gotten one too, but they didn't have it in my size and....blah blah blah." I was thinking to myself "Am I doing something wrong? Is she not sufficiently impressed? Is this a hint?" So (without stopping) I asked her if she was not having a good time and she said "Oh yeah, this is really great - you're a great guy. Hey do you want to go see a movie tomorrow? There are several things playing, let's see there is...."

Somehow I was hoping for a more enthralled response.

Rule #7. Not everybody gets turned on by the same thing.

P.S. Every time I read about someone divorcing a beautiful, rich celebrity woman that seems to have everything going for her, I think about this. Maybe she likes to talk about chores or shopping in bed. It's enough to run off any man.


Rules 8, 9, and 10
I was playing in a band based out of Atlanta and this particular week we had a gig in Gainesville, GA, which was about forty five minutes away.

I had been dating René, a petite and very sexual waitress I'd met at a club in Atlanta. She decided to drive up to Gainesville after her shift, more or less to keep an eye on me. She showed up at the club in her waitress outfit – a short, slinky, silver sparkle skirt with a side slit that went almost to the waist. The matching top was tight, low-cut, and showed her assets.

While we played the gig, she sat at the bar drinking heavily. I'd had previous experience with a drunken René and knew there was always a possibility the evening could end badly.

At the end of the night she came up to me and said, "The bartender bought me seven shots of tequila and now he thinks he owns me." I said, "René, he does own you." She was not amused.

I made arrangements for one of the other band members to drive my van home so I could drive René back in her car - a Dodge Polara from the sixties. Her Dad had bought this very heavy car for her because she had had a number of alcohol related accidents and he figured this would keep her safe as possible.

The road back from Gainesville was one long straight stretch of two lane highway. It was three in the morning and there wan't another car in sight. In fact, there wasn't anything near this road - no houses, no businesses. René was laying on her back with her head in my lap begging me to pull over anywhere so we could fuck. I just finished my job and am pretty tired. I look out the window at the tall weeds and woods and I'm thinking a nice soft bed isn't much further down the road. But she was insistant and was doing her best to be persuasive. Her beautiful, barefoot legs were dangling out the window in the summer breeze. So while she was trying to get me turned on, I was trying to give her enough satisfaction to hold her off till we were home. The end result is we were both half undressed.

Next thing I know there are blue lights flashing behind us. I have no idea where that cop came from – it was otherwise pitch black for miles in every direction. I told René to zip me back up while I pulled over very slowly. I had her wait in the car while I went back to talk to the officer – mostly so that he could see that I was dressed. While I'm standing at his car getting out my license, René leans out the window and yells, "Tell the fuckin' pig to leave us alone!". I was in complete shock! I told her to shut up and get back in the car, which she did. I continued my business with the cop and he said he pulled me over because I'd been weaving in the road. (Couldn't really argue that point). Then René leaned out the window again and repeated her demand. All I could think of was – we're in the middle of nowhere, about to get arrested and stuck in some south Georgia jail where no on will know where we are for a week. I told the cop, "Look – you can see she's drunk. All I'm trying to do here is do the right thing and not let her drive home. This is her car and I'm not used to driving it and she's not making things any easier. I'm sure I was weaving, but I'm just trying to not let her drive drunk and this was the best solution I could come up with. He just smiled and handed me back my license and told me to try to be more careful. I'll bet he couldn't wait to get back and tell his buddies this story.

Rule #8 Be careful dangling bare body parts out of a car window. It will attract attention. Rule #9 Weigh carefully the risk/reward when driving a moving vehicle in a semi-undressed state. Rule #10 Dating a partner who yells drunken obscenities at police officers usually doesn't end with a funny story to tell. (Just got lucky this time.)


Rule #11
My band had a rare weekend off, so the guitar player and his wife invited me to join them to go to a local bar and play some video games and see another band. Usually, if we were in a bar we were working our job (and I was working the audience looking for women) so the idea was to do something different and just have a relaxing night with friends.

Video games in bars had just become popular and we were really into it having a good time. I barely looked up from the games to see what else was going on in the bar except to order a drink now and then as the waitress passed by. Towards the end of the evening, my friend's wife said that she was pretty sure that our waitress was interested in me. This was a surprise as I hadn't paid her any attention, but it only took one glance to see that this was very attractive in the "girl next door" kind of way. So I struck up a conversation and sure enough she said she would like to get together when she got off work.

The problem was that when they closed the bar (at around 2:00) they cleared all the customers out and the employees had to stay another hour to clean the place up. So we agreed that I would leave and return at 3:00 A.M.

There was a Denny's restaurant that shared the same parking lot and I went over and had breakfast while I killed the hour. At 3:00 I headed back towards the club and she met me half way across the parking lot. My mind was racing as I tried to figure out what to say to get things going again with her – we'd only talked a little while. She solved that problem with her opening line, "You know this is just sport fucking, right?" I was totally shocked but eventually stammered some sort of reply – "Ummm yeah - sure. No problem.

So we go back to her place and head straight to her bedroom. She tells me to make myself comfortable and then she goes into the adjoining bathroom and comes out in lingerie and says, "Anything you want." Naturally, I took her up on her offer and after satisfying all of the wants I could think of we lay in bed exhausted. I was already working on trying to set up a return date, but she told me that wasn't possible – she had a boyfriend and was happy with him. So why were we together I asked? Her answer was a shocker. She said that someone had offered her a job hooking in Washington, D.C. They would fly her up, pay her $600 for the night (this was in the '70s when that was quite a chunk of change) and would fly her back. She said she'd never dreamed of doing anything like that in her life but it would pay a lot of bills. She just wasn't sure she could go through with it, so she decided to have a test run first. She picked me because I looked like a nice guy.

Rule #11 Even a blind squirrel finds a nut now and then.


Rule #12
I went to a small, local sports bar to watch the Tennessee Vols play and grab a bite to eat. I sat at the bar and enjoyed both the game and the meal over several hours time.

There was a gal sitting next to me who was talking to the guy on the other side of her. He was working hard at picking her up, but I was focused on the game. At least, I was until she put her hand on my leg and began rubbing. The bar was curved and she was able to do this without him noticing and I didn't see any reason to give her secret away.

This went on for quite awhile and was only interrupted when she got up to go to the bathroom. This gave me a chance to get a good look at her because I hadn't even made eye contact up until this point. She wasn't very pretty but had curves for days. I had enough beer in me to be interested.

She eventually got rid of the guy on the other side. I later learned that they had met online and were checking each other out. As soon as he was gone she turned to me and we looked each other in the eye for the first time. She only said three things: "Do you live near here?" I said yes. "Do you live alone?" I said yes. "Let's go." I nodded and we left.

In the parking lot she said she would follow me home. Seemed logical that she would want to have a ride handy in case she wanted to go at any time. But once we got to my house she asked me to go on inside and she would be in in a minute. She clicked the lock to open her trunk.

My first thought was that she was getting sleep-over stuff out of the trunk. But as I went in the house I got really nervous. Now it occurred to me that I was the perfect target for robbery – she knew I lived alone, I didn't know her name and had no idea where she lived or anything about her. I was pacing inside the house like a caged tiger. My mind raced. I figured she was either getting lingerie out of the trunk or a gun – not sure which.

Before I could think of what to do she walked in the door all smiles and headed straight to the bathroom where she changed into lingerie.

Whew!

Rule #12 It's better to be lucky than good.


Rule #13
A story from a male friend.
David and his girl friend decided to fix up their pal Henry on a blind date. They arranged for Henry and a girl named Elaine to go on a double date with them, hoping they would hit it off.

Right from the start it was a disaster. Elaine was all about money and appearance. She talked non-stop about where she liked to shop and what clothes appealed to her. Henry was just the opposite – an intellectual who couldn't care less about such things. He tried his best to just get through the evening, but Elaine was just one of those people who never shut up. Not only was she was dominating the conversation, but she was keeping it on a level that bored Henry to death.

After hours on the town like this, they finally got back to the car and Henry (who was sitting in the back seat with Elaine) prayed this would mean the evening was coming to an end. But apparently the others weren't getting the point because talk began about going somewhere else. Henry knew something had to be done, but what? He tried to think about what he could say to end the evening and put the blame on no one but himself. Finally, he looked at Elaine and calmly said, "Wanna see my dick?"

That did the trick.

Rule #13 Everyone has someone their not suited for. It's OK to bail out.


Rule #14
In the late 70s, our band played a gig in Florida, at Daytona I believe. A girl at the bar asked me if I wanted to go for a walk along the beach after I got off and I agreed.

When the time came, I followed her to her car. The beach was nearby, but I assumed we were going to a favorite spot, so we got in and she began to drive. "I thought we'd just skip the walk," she said. "Sure, no problem," I said, being an agreeable kind of guy.

We went straight to her place, which turned out to be a converted lighthouse. It was only two stories tall but at one time had overlooked the coast. It had a metal spiral staircase in the middle of the house that lead upstairs. But first we sat in the living room for the obligatory – let's get to know each other talk. I've shared this moment with a number of gals. It seems to be a thing where they clear their conscience for the one-nighter by first showing photographs of themselves growing up. So now it isn't sex with a stranger, because we've gotten to know each other a bit. Also, as one gal explained it, "I had to make sure you weren't crazy first." I never was clear how that could be accomplished in 30 minutes to an hour, but apparently I always passed the test, because I never got booted out after the photo session.

On this night I was with a girl that had strong American Indian features with beautiful dark hair. She was probably 7 or 8 years older than me and the photos she showed me of her younger days were as stunning as the woman before me. Once the get acquainted period was over we went up the spiral staircase. At the top of the lighthouse was a very small room. It was round, of course, and had just enough room for her king sized bed and shallow shelves (with a stereo and lamp or two) that circled the room beneath the panoramic windows. It was as romantic a spot as you could imagine. You could lie in the bed and see stars in every direction. If you sat up in bed you could look out over the ocean. The few buildings that were nearby were either shorter or had no windows facing her place – so there was total privacy.

The morning was as beautiful as the evening, and the whole experience was a magical, once in a lifetime moment.

Flash forward twenty-five years or so. Somehow, I got in a conversation with a fellow at work about memorable places for sex and I mentioned the lighthouse story. The more I talked about it, the more he got a funny look on his face. He asked me a few questions about the details and then said something that totally surprised me. "I was just there – it's a tourist attraction now." Apparently, the gal had been renting the place, which eventually became designated a historical landmark. It is currently a commercial property. In the down stairs area they sell postcards and nick knacks and upstairs, for a fee, you can see what I saw one splendid summer night for free.

Rule #14 Choose from the following:
(A) Prepare the get-to-know-me-props in advance.
(B) You know you’re old when they turn your hook up joints into national monuments.
(C) Historical sex can be as much fun as hysterical sex.


Rule #15
A story from a female friend.
If you've never been to Hayside, Kentucky, it is as rural as it gets. I've had my own encounter there where it was made clear that "outsiders ain't welcome". If Ernest T. Bass had a home town, this is where it would be. Nuff said. That's the back drop for this story.

Jared and Daisy Mae met on a Christian single online dating site. He had attended a small Christian private school and works for a Christian Publishing company in the Nashville area. She is from Hayside, Kentucky and recently graduated college. They had been dating for several years and were planning a wedding shortly after her graduation. The wedding was to be in Nashville where they would live.

In preparation of this, he and his parents went to Daisy's house and loaded up her belongings in a moving van as planned. When the van was almost full, Daisy approached Jared and dropped this bombshell: "I'm not moving back with you. I can't leave my mother." He assured her that the connections with her mother would not be severed and that they would visit each other and stay in constant touch. He noticed that while they were having this discussion, the mother had an unusual grin on her face.

While he continued to load the van, the mother took Daisy to a nearby gas station. When Jared learned of this, he went to the station to see what was up. The mother said, "My twin sister has come and gotten her and taken her away. You'll never see her again." Jared protested and an argument ensued. A group of men came out of the gas station and become threatening.
"You better get outta here."
"You better get your stuff and go on home."

He was not only devastated at the turn of events, but also afraid of his own safety.

It should be pointed out that there are only 300 residents of Hayside and 200 of them were going to come to Nashville for the wedding. In short, everyone knew their business – and apparently they knew it better than he did.

He and the mother go back to her house where she tells him "You get that truck unloaded and put her stuff on the front porch and you get out of here or I'll call the police."

Jared talked to the maid of honor to try and make some sense out of all of this but she was as shocked as he was that this was happening.

He and his parents unload the truck they've just loaded and drive to nearby Pikesville to return it. Jared's father is driving and has to pull over because he is as upset as Jared and both of them are crying too much to drive. Jared's mother, Myrna, has to take over the driving. When they stop for gas the two men are standing by a fence bawling their eyes out and Myrna soon joins them. They wind up having to get a room for the night because none of them are fit to drive.

To add insult to injury, Daisy's mother had claimed poverty and the groom's parents paid for the wedding. At this late date, none of the deposits were refundable. They had plans to go to Hawaii for their honeymoon and those tickets were only refundable in case of death. Myrna commented that that could be arranged for one of them.

Jared tried to call Daisy four times after that, but her mind was made up and there was no changing it.

The wedding cake was donated to his local church where it was used for a dedication ceremony for a building project.

Rule #15 Avoid any place where you hear banjos and a screaming pig.