Thanks to everyone for their reviews! I'm so thrilled to see some old names on the reviewing list and some new ones! You guys are amazing!

Here is Moxie's POV for the same event.

Moxie:

She entered the apartment after the failed date and threw her bag on the couch. She knew she should never have agreed to see that cretin, but her family had insisted she get out of the house and this stupid date was their idea. Her father had even bought her an expensive new phone to help her get socially connected to the outside world, but she wished he hadn't spent the money. She decided to call her parents and inform them in no uncertain terms would she ever go out again.

But what could she say without telling them that their favorite niece, Cyndi had lived up to her nickname, Cyn, and had broken her marriage vows at break-neck speed? How could she tell them that the date had ended in disaster? She still had the bruises from his man handling. Never again, she vowed, never again. She needed to learn to say no.

Why on earth had she agreed to go on a date, and to a wedding at a bowling alley no less. Her cousin had arranged the date at the behest of her parents; however Cyndi had probably only invited her to the wedding as a plus one for her ex-lover in an attempt to woe him back to her bed. One last hurrah before she "settled down" with the unsuspecting Walter from accounting who couldn't bowl a strike with a cannon ball. Walter was a nice chap, kinda of shy, but that meant she had even more sympathy for him.

Her negligent date had picked her up 20 minutes late in a beat-up old Dodge pickup with the check oil light on. She tried to have a conversation with him, telling him about her work, but within minutes, she realized that he was a sloppy moron who couldn't string a cogent thought together without a rope, and that he only understood half of what she was saying. That should have been the first sign to get out. The second was when he grabbed her ass as he helped her out of the jalopy. She smashed him across the face, and headed toward the wedding, intending to give her regards to the family before calling a taxi.

She had started to panic the moment she stepped into the crowded bowling hall brimming with wedding attendants. Years had passed since she had been around that many people let alone in a wooden-pin banging echo chamber. She didn't plan on bowling, so there had been no need to get used shoes from the counter, but still the crowd seemed to engulf and smother her. She felt a bead of sweat drip down her forehead as her heart rate rose exponentially with the size of the group surrounding her. She wiped her wet palms on her dress, and counted the breaths she could draw in without passing out. Her eyes darted around the room looking at the sea of faces wondering if anyone even noticed her in her best maroon dress and if so what did they think. She didn't know what was worse, being ignored for being too boring, or being judged because of it. She needed oxygen. She needed to get away. She needed to escape the sticky smell of stale beer, burnt fryer oil, and athlete-foot spray. She needed to get back to her apartment with her books, a warm blanket, and a full cup of tea.

She had tried to find a small room with no one around so she could catch her breath, before saying a brief hello to her folks. An unlocked room off the bowling hall seemed perfect, but that's when she found her date and her cousin Cyndi, he with his pants around his ankles and she with her flouncy wedding dress tossed over her head as he slammed himself into Cyndi like a ball going for strike. She was only grateful that her cousin's groom, Walter was not a witness to this messy and carnal display, but Walter seemed busy entertaining the family and bowling 7-10 splits, as her cousin Cyndi should have been.

She knew that the busy couple would not miss her, so she left the noise of the bowling hall and took off down the road on foot in the air stealing heat. She had stopped for a moment in front of a coffee shop on Eagle Rock Blvd. She was as hot as the weather; almost 104 degrees out. Only a fool would be out in such weather, and she had almost been tempted to go in for a glass of tepid water. Instead she decided to call a cab.

So after an expensive taxi ride back to her nice quiet and calm apartment she decided she better bite the bullet and call her parents, informing them that the date was a bust. Looking for her phone she thought the device must be lost at the bottom of her purse, she dumped the contents of it out on the couch, checked her pockets and the floor. Then decided to use the find your phone app to track it down. She knew her father had activated the app which she felt was an invasion of her privacy. However, she had not bothered to deactivate it as she seldom went anywhere. She spent her days in her apartment or at work. She ate at home, and shopped online.

Her phone, however, had gone on its own journey and seemed to be having coffee at a café in Eagle Rock. That Neanderthal had stolen her phone, but what he was doing in a coffee shop was a mystery. She called the phone a number of times, but the ape man ignored her calls. Getting angrier by the minute, she was in no mood to articulate a voice message, so she decided to send a text from her computer. She wrote a terse message and as soon as she hit send, she went to her room to change out of her best dress, but an alert sound called her attention back to her computer. She wondered what the womanizer had to say, but was surprised to read a text message from a stranger. She must have dropped her phone when the cab picked her up and someone else had found it. He must have been a fast typist to reply so quickly. She had to giggle at his defense of her when he said, "within your rights to smack the masher." Good grammar she thought.

Should she reply, or just let it go. She could have purchased another phone if needed, but it was a present from her father despite his reason for giving it to her, also she was mortified that a stranger had gotten a taste of her anger, and the tone of his message intrigued her.

She wrote him back, and he wanted to get her address.

She could give it to him. He probably would just send the phone back, no questions asked. But what if he didn't? What if he wanted to deliver it in person? She couldn't risk it. She knew nothing about him. He could be an ax murderer or even worse someone as bad as her last date. She typed back:

"Thank you for retrieving my phone but I would rather not give my name or my address to a stranger, if you don't mind."

She was relieved when he said he would leave the phone at the coffee shop, but why would he use the name "Ms. Moxie". The last time she had heard the word Moxie, was in an old movie with Ronald Coleman from 1948. She typed back and asked him about it.

"Ms. Moxie?"

"Yes, it is far better than the name that man wanted to give you. Something to do with balls, but I doubt you are into sports. Ergo, Ms. Moxie for clocking the masher across the face. I am assuming it is Ms. Not Mrs. Unless infidelity runs in your family."

This stranger already thinks she comes from a family of misfits. There was no way she would let him think such nonsense about her. Did she want to get married? Sure, but she also wanted to meet the Easter Bunny and take a ride in Santa's sleigh. All three seemed equally likely. Relationships, whether romantic or otherwise didn't interest her. She had tried the dating scene, even a few dating sites which had set her up with a promising prospect about four years ago, that date stood her up. Since then, she avoided all social entanglements. Trust was earned, and humanity had not yet shown to be worthy of the price

However, this stranger was easy to talk to and their brief conversation had made her smile; the first time in years and her face almost forgot how to make the motion. A passing moment she would relish.

She intended to go and retrieve the phone and wondered if he might still be there waiting for her. Logically, she knew that there was no way she would see him at a coffee shop; but a twinge of hope entered her heart. Pushing the unfamiliar feeling away, she put on her more comfortable attire and combed her long hair. In the bottom of her bathroom drawer, she found some lipstick and hesitated about putting some on her lips, but shaking her head at her folly, she replaced the unused item in the draw. She spent more time getting ready to pick up her phone than she had done on the failed date.

The drive gave her time to regret that she had lost the opportunity to thank the kind stranger. Why had she not asked him for his number but if she had what then, she sighed.

She wondered what he looked like, what his background would be. Was he married, or 75 years old, or a motorcycle riding hunk straight out of an erotic novel. He was a blank canvas, which intrigued her.

When she arrived at the coffee it was late afternoon and looking through the glass windows, she saw that it was virtually empty. There was one rather large man reading a book and sipping a latte in the corner. As she walked, a little nervously, toward the door, she wondered if that was he, waiting to meet her. When she saw the title of the book he was reading, "How to speak good to women" she knew that it couldn't be he.

She marched to the counter and asked the tattooed Barista if there was a phone left for Ms. Moxie. At first, her blank expression worried her. It was an expensive phone, had the young lady decided to keep it for herself.

However, she opened the register, and with a gum pop said in a flat monotone voice, "Oh yes! That crazy guy left it for you."

"Crazy?" She hesitated as she took the phone from the barista.

"Yeah. Just no chill. He thought I was going to steal it."

"Well thank you for not stealing it."

"Yeah. Anyway, crazy or not… he had nice eyes". The girl with the name tag, Demona, chuckled, and looked less threatening as she left to attend to a new customer. Ms. Moxie didn't leave the café for a few minutes. She looked around the near-empty room and let out a sigh.

For some reason, the quiet drive home seemed longer than normal. She stopped at a local restaurant for takeout and drove back to the apartment. She placed her food and bag on the table, and taking out her phone she wondered if the thumb print on the glass was hers or his. She wiped it off with a micro fiber cloth, and started to place out her food. She thought about putting on some music, but silence seemed a better companion. She pushed around the rice on her plate, and made a fractal pattern in the grains.

After she finished her dinner and washed the dishes, she put on the kettle and ran a hot bath. She remembered that she hadn't finished the article on Aerobic Nickel-Catalyzed Hydroxysulfonylation of Alkenes Using Sodium Sulfinates. Taking her cup of tea and the article to the bathroom she heard a strange sound that distracted her. She looked up at the smoke alarm, wondering if the steam from the bath had triggered it. She checked the alarm in the living room as well, when a second alert sounded coming from her bag. It was a soft ping, like a chirp of a bird. It was the phone.

She walked back to her couch to pick up the phone. It would be her parents; they were the only people who knew the number. They would be keen to hear about her date, and worried that she had not called before. She was right, there was a text from her mother, but there was a second message from an unknown number. She opened the text and broad a smile blossomed on her face. The text from her mother, her tea and bath were all forgotten.

Well well well... A mystery indeed! Who is this woman! What is she doing with OUR Sheldon! All will be revealed! But not too soon! Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. Its so great to hear from you guys and know Im not speaking to the void!