They should have made sweet music; instead, date ended on sour note

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Updated: February 11, 2012 8:08AM

Grace is what you might call a culture vulture. When she saw “Fantasia” for the first time when she was 8, she became a devotee of classical music. She started studying the violin then and continued for nine years. She also studied the piano and was “a serious lyric soprano.”

Something else you need to know about Grace. She’s had what she calls “an adventurous past.” She’s been married once and has had numerous affairs with a United Nations of gentlemen.

Yet, her two passions — music and love — never seemed to come together. There was never a musician tucked in among her butchers, bakers and candlestick makers.

“In fact, of all the many men I’ve met or dated, only one loved classical music.”

His name was George, and Grace says he was very good-looking. On one of their first dates, he took her to a beautiful restaurant. The food was delicious, the drink even better. George had several too many.

He was planning an after-dinner seduction back at his house, but when he got there, he fell asleep on the living room couch.

“Instead of calling for a cab I, too, fell asleep, fully clothed, on the easy chair in the living room after he dropped off. Maybe I was a little tipsy myself.”

George woke up the next morning, stone cold sober. He was well-rested and raring to go. He expected the evening to pick up where it left off when he passed out. He woke Grace as the sun was streaming through the window.

“But I was completely out of the mood. No longer did the setting or the circumstances seem romantic. I was wide awake, my hair was a mess, my mascara was smeared, my dress was wrinkled and all I wanted to do was go home.”

When George made his move — we might call it seduction interruptus — she told him he’d had his chance last night and he blew it. It was too late. The moment had passed.

“In lovemaking as in humor,” says Grace, “timing is of the essence.”

George was less than happy with the way the morning turned out. When she told him she just wanted to leave, he didn’t offer to drive her home. She figured she’d call a cab and asked him for his exact address.

“He refused to give it to me! What was he thinking? That he’d keep me captive till I agreed to make love?”

Ever resourceful, Grace went to the bathroom, found his address on a pill bottle and called a cab.

“He never called me again, and I never saw him again. It’s too bad the evening turned out the way it did because I had finally met a man with whom I had something important to me in common with. And he had a vast collection of classical records. George had been dealt a good hand, but he didn’t know how to play his cards wisely or well.”

Send your tale to cheryl lavinrapp@gmail.com.

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