Sorry, Sir
Sure, there are plenty of new things to write about, but how about we step back to 2009 instead.
That was a funny day...
It's time that I finally start chronicling as promised and what better event to begin with than the accidental date this married woman went on with someone other than her husband. Yes, you will want to know these details.
So follow me, if you will, back in time to... well, to earlier today. The Florida sun was hot, the air was still and I was full stride into one of those constant problems every 5-foot-nothing girl experiences when needing to move an immovable object. The object in question is not of concern here, but let me point out that if it wasn't for that piece of junk, I would not have found myself at dinner with the near-stranger who helped me.
I really must stop myself here to interject that the man was very kind, and in fact incredibly helpful in moving my object from point A to point B. When he suggested dinner, I should have let the red flag in head keep waving instead of playing the too-sweet-to-hurt-someone's-feelings-since-afterall-they-did-help-me sucker that I really am. I figured I could keep the event casual, as I had made it very clear I was married and intended to stay that way. I mean, I was casually acquainted with this person before the object had to be moved, wasn't I? Why couldn't I let him finish talking about his kids and X-wife over dinner as thanks?
What I didn't quite realize is that when a late 40-something recent divorcee suggests dinner, it is going to be a date whether you like it or not. And so it begins:
His X-wife is a bitch, but his children are beautiful. He is pre-diabetic, but eats lots of candy he buys wholesale at Costco. It is not uncommon for him to take down a case of beers in a sitting. He feels as though he is still in his 20's. As an old school Italian, it is his beliefs that I should be prepared to put him, the man, before all others. He, the man, will always put his family first. And although I, the wife, will never be number one, he will make my life very comfortable as thanks for my devotion. I should not be surprised to come home and find that my bags have been packed and that there is an airline ticket with my name on it. The first question he asked me about myself was: "Are you a bitch?" The second question was: "What makes you really mad?" The most exciting place he has ever been to is Costa Rica, where there are lots of beautiful women and good fishing.
By the main course, I had been assured that he wants loads more children and that it was fortunate we had reconnected as I was obviously "hot, young and supple."
"Fertile."
For dessert, I explained again that I was married and truly hoped to stay that way.
I offered to help pay the bill, but I was rejected. I offered to at least pay the tip, but was shot down. Outside at the valet, I attempted to pay the $5 to get my car back and was told, with an index finger in my face, to "Never. Do. That. Again."
I replied with a startled, "Sorry, sir."
That was a funny day...
* * * *
It's time that I finally start chronicling as promised and what better event to begin with than the accidental date this married woman went on with someone other than her husband. Yes, you will want to know these details.
So follow me, if you will, back in time to... well, to earlier today. The Florida sun was hot, the air was still and I was full stride into one of those constant problems every 5-foot-nothing girl experiences when needing to move an immovable object. The object in question is not of concern here, but let me point out that if it wasn't for that piece of junk, I would not have found myself at dinner with the near-stranger who helped me.
I really must stop myself here to interject that the man was very kind, and in fact incredibly helpful in moving my object from point A to point B. When he suggested dinner, I should have let the red flag in head keep waving instead of playing the too-sweet-to-hurt-someone's-feelings-since-afterall-they-did-help-me sucker that I really am. I figured I could keep the event casual, as I had made it very clear I was married and intended to stay that way. I mean, I was casually acquainted with this person before the object had to be moved, wasn't I? Why couldn't I let him finish talking about his kids and X-wife over dinner as thanks?
What I didn't quite realize is that when a late 40-something recent divorcee suggests dinner, it is going to be a date whether you like it or not. And so it begins:
His X-wife is a bitch, but his children are beautiful. He is pre-diabetic, but eats lots of candy he buys wholesale at Costco. It is not uncommon for him to take down a case of beers in a sitting. He feels as though he is still in his 20's. As an old school Italian, it is his beliefs that I should be prepared to put him, the man, before all others. He, the man, will always put his family first. And although I, the wife, will never be number one, he will make my life very comfortable as thanks for my devotion. I should not be surprised to come home and find that my bags have been packed and that there is an airline ticket with my name on it. The first question he asked me about myself was: "Are you a bitch?" The second question was: "What makes you really mad?" The most exciting place he has ever been to is Costa Rica, where there are lots of beautiful women and good fishing.
By the main course, I had been assured that he wants loads more children and that it was fortunate we had reconnected as I was obviously "hot, young and supple."
"Fertile."
For dessert, I explained again that I was married and truly hoped to stay that way.
I offered to help pay the bill, but I was rejected. I offered to at least pay the tip, but was shot down. Outside at the valet, I attempted to pay the $5 to get my car back and was told, with an index finger in my face, to "Never. Do. That. Again."
I replied with a startled, "Sorry, sir."
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