Did you know that Sarasota is one of the best cities in the country to be single and dating … as long as you’re over 55 and pulling down $200,000 a year!? I came across that tidbit of information recently in Sarasota Magazine and have been debating moving back to Boston ever since.

Actually, I’m a bit relieved. After all, I’m not 55 and don’t make 200 grand, so, yippee! – I finally know why I’m dateless on Saturday nights in Sarasota.

Sure, I’ve had a couple of dates here and there, but pretty much, my regular Saturday night date is with two cats and a rented movie.

That is, except for the night I encountered every single woman’s fantasy … the highly elusive “KitKat Man.”

True story:

Saturday night, 2006. Returning home from the video store where I’d used a free coupon to rent an Edward Norton film, I decided to stop at a convenience store to pick something up. When I reached into my pocket to pay, I was embarrassed to realize I didn’t have any cash on me! As I explained to the cashier that he’d have to cancel the sale, I heard someone walk up behind me and say, “I’ve got it. Just ring it up with my stuff.”

I turned and saw a very attractive man, 45-ish, wearing a baseball cap.

I’m sure I turned eight shades of red as I stammered “Oh, no, I can’t possibly let you do that …,” desperately wishing I had at least dashed some lip gloss across my lips before leaving the house.

“Really,” he interrupted, as he handed some bills to the cashier, “It’s my treat.”

Now, try to get the image in your head: I was dressed in sweatpants and hoodie, hair stuffed under a Yankees cap, no make-up, a pair of beat-up flip-flops on my feet. It’s 7:30 on a Saturday night, known universally as “date night;” I’m at a convenience store with no money, and what am I trying to buy? What’s the big make or break purchase I just had to have?

A KitKat candy bar!

And no mere regular size KitKat bar. No, I’d latched on to a GIANT size KitKat bar — a candy bar the size of Texas!

Could the situation be any more embarrassing? Could I have looked any more like a GIANT loser?!

What could I do? I swallowed my mortification and said, “Well, you saved my Saturday night.” He just smiled and said “No problem.”

As I slunk off to my car, I saw him getting behind the wheel of his – a blue Porsche with a dog sitting in the passenger seat — then he was gone.

And the KitKat bar?

I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. It sat on my coffee table, mocking me – daring me – all night. I finally threw it in the trash. Eating it would have only added more insult to my already injured ego.

For months after, I kept a couple of dollar bills stuffed in the cup holder of my car, hoping I’d run into “KitKat Man.” I wanted to repay him for his random act of chivalry toward a chocolate-starved woman … on yet another Saturday night … dateless in Sarasota.

2006 – 2011 All Rights Reserved by M.C. Coolidge.

“Dateless in Sarasota aka the Kitkat Man” is one of the essays in my book, Sideways in Sarasota, available at Circle Books, Media on Main, Bookstore1 — all in Sarasota; and on my own website (it’s cheaper here!), and on Amazon.com.