Contented Bliss

Hello, peeps. Yes, I've been actually having a life and not blogging about one. Lynn and I have been in a serious state of canoodling for the past week. Yes, a week. About 1/3 of the time of our last romantic encounter. And I must say it is probably the happiest I can remember being. We have been inseparable. Doing everything together - including showering. And the sex is amazing. OK, this is probably TMI and will gross you out, but I so love the taste of a woman. Heidi was fun. But she was very conservative when in comes to sex. Her idea of getting wild was doing it with a candle lit. Nothing but the missionary position for her. And seriously - nothing oral, at all. She said she didn't like it. I told her that was probably because she never had it done well. She agreed, but was never adventurous enough to try it with me. I really missed it. Lynn is - well - amazing and adventurous and - wow.

Tonight we parted, briefly, so I could go home - wash clothes and get another weeks worth. Later (after the last dryer load) I'll be headed back to her apartment in Los Gatos.

I have the key to her apartment again.

Maybe I'll get a drawer or two.

Sigh. (of contentment)

I did go paddling with paddle girl on Sunday morning. This was the only time I paddled in the last week. And I simply cannot keep up with her if I don't some extra mileage in during the week. Need to do something about that.

Anyway, she asked about my love life and I gave her the reader's digest version as we shared a thermos of french roast on the dock after our paddle. College buddy, to drinking buddy, to bed buddy, to cheating bitch, back to bed buddy again (new readers, go read here, here, and here, that's the gist of it).

"Do you trust her?" she asked

"Naw." I replied. "But I lover her."

"She's a lucky girl." She shook her head, "Men are weird."

Exchange of the left items

“So you’re flower guy?” asked the receptionist at Heidi’s office. I had let her know that I was here to drop off some things for Heidi and pick up a box that she left for me. My flight for Tokyo leaves at 11:30. I asked for the Limo to pick me up at 9:30. I stopped by Heidi’s office a bit before 9 to exchange stuff. Once done I needed to race back home and get driven to SFO. As long as traffic cooperates I might not be late.

“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s me.”

“What’d you do?”

“I was bad.” I made a face.

“No really, what’d you do? No one ever sent that many flowers. I mean guys have ended up divorced and not put in that much of an effort.” I was kinda shocked that Ms. Receptionist was being so nosey. But I’m neither a customer nor an employee – or anyone else of note. I’m just someone’s ex-boyfriend – and the subject of some office gossip.

“It was…” I shook my head, “nothing.”

“Word is you cheated on her.” Receptionists rule the rumor mill. She was baiting me. I know I should have taken the high road and walked away. But I hated the thought of leaving my good name undefended.

“I had dinner with an old girlfriend.”

“That’s it?” She was disappointed.

“That’s it.” I shrugged.

She looked at me sideways. “So why all the drama?”

“’Cause I really didn’t want to let Heidi get away. But it wasn’t meant to be. Let me get out of your way.” I motioned for the box with my name on it. I left a Crate and Barrel bag with all the things that Heidi had left at my house – there wasn’t much. I did need to get home soon, but I needed to ask. I knew I shouldn’t – but I had to. “What happened between Lynn and Tim? How did it end?” She had to know.

She perked up. “Well,” she looked both ways – but it was early and no one was around. “Tim started dating (office-slut) about 2 weeks before they broke up. (Office-slut) works in marketing for (manager-dude). Anyway, Lynn’s friend (snoopy) was in the women’s locker room taking a shower after her jog at lunchtime. There’s one other shower stall occupied, but there are two sets of feet – and one has hairy ankles – if you know what I mean. Anyway, after a few minutes, (office-slut) is calling out ‘Oh, Tim, Oh, Tim.’ It happens.” She tried to look nonchalant – but it was clear that she lived for this stuff. “So, (snoopy) tells Lynn what she heard. Lynn goes ballistic. She runs all over campus looking for him. She confronts him in the cafeteria. (Cookie), the cafeteria manager almost called security. Folks thought that she was going to Bobbitize him right there.” She paused, “Why the smirk?”

WTF I thought. I’ll throw her a bone, she may come in useful someday. “Lynn was the old girlfriend I had dinner with.” Her eyes went wide with surprise and delight. “Have a nice day.” I said and walked out to my car.

Big Sur

So Heidi and I headed out on the big road trip. One room reserved, king bed, no pajamas. The anticipation was exquisite. Damn, it’s been a while. Last time was the one night stand with Helen, about 6 months ago.

On the drive down, she asked me how many partners I’d had in the last decade. At first I thought this was none of her business. But she (and I) came of age in the late 80s when it was thought that AIDS would spread like wildfire through the heterosexual community. It was prudent to ask about your partner’s history. Today I think it’s just nosey. I answered (and, no I’m not blogging it). She reacted with surprise. Hmm. OK I showed you mine, now you show me yours.

All I can say is “whoa”. Heidi, you little slut, you. No, I did not say that out loud. Let’s just say she had more partners than I did. Like, a lot more. Way more than 10 times as many. I’m jealous. OK, now I’m really wondering why she didn’t jump my bones.

We stayed at Carmel Valley Ranch. It was heavenly. I had stayed there on my big driving trip last fall. It was nice to be able to share it with someone. I really wanted to stay at the Post Ranch Inn (one day), but just having spent all my money on an outrageous car, I felt it best to be mildly frugal. We had dinner at the hotel restaurant, and had just the right amount of wine.

And then… well, you know. It was wonderful and we drifted to sleep in each others arms. I woke up after a couple of hours of sleep, well, um, in an extreme state of erectitude. I gently caressed her. She waved me away and rolled over. I gave her a gentle kiss on the back of her neck. She seemed to really like that. She stirred a bit. “No, no, no, no, Rich, don’t try, you can’t, not this soon.” She said sleepily. “Twice in one night only happens in porno movies. And they use mirrors or something to do that.” Then she felt my, um, arousaledness. “Whoa – you can.” Waking up quickly, she giggled and rolled on top of me.

Oh, found out – she’s not a natural blonde. Not that that’s not a problem.

One more thing, large breasts are worth every bit of fuss that men make over them. Seriously. That was one fun weekend. I’d give you more details, but it’d just get x-rated real fast.

We were packing up to leave the hotel. Heidi was checking the drawers in the dresser. She found the TV in a cabinet. “Hey look, the room has a TV! You know, I’ve never stayed in a hotel and not used the TV before” she said.

“That is a tragedy.” I replied.

That Hurts

I wanted to scream. I was in a meeting with Kristen and some of the engineers. We were discussing a problem that we had run into with the lesser supported browsers and an esoteric XML directive. It was 6:15 and things weren’t looking like they were going to wrap up soon. I had dinner reservations for 8:00 at the Fog City Diner in San Francisco with my ex-fiance, Sarah.

One of the persistent problems that Sarah and I had was that she felt that I held work to be more important than her. I don’t think this was true. To be successful, we need to be accommodating to work from time to time. It seems to me an unsolvable paradox – women want men who are successful, but they don’t want them to work too hard at it. At least not so hard that it impacts them. The reality is that if you want to be professionally successful it takes sacrifices – and sometimes this will impact your family and loved ones. Anyway, the point of all of this is that Sarah would be really put out if I were to call and say I’m in a meeting, can we dine at 9? It just wouldn’t be a good idea.

At 6:25, 5 minutes after I felt was the latest time that I could leave I begged out of the meeting – saying that I had an appointment that I needed to get to. I braced myself for the tirade from Kristen about putting in the effort needed. She just said, “OK, Rich. We’re almost done here. We’ll e-mail you what we come up with. See you tomorrow.” Maybe my offering of a bottle of wine to the marketing goddess was viewed favorably. I didn’t stop to question my good luck – and ran for the truck.

It was peak rush hour time in San Jose and I needed to make it up to the City in about an hour. My plan was back streets to 280 and then go as fast as traffic would permit (80?) until I got into SF where I would probably hit the tail end of their rush hour traffic. I reached 280 in about 20 minutes and drove between 80 and 90 all the way up the peninsula. Sarah was staying at the Le Meridien.

I got to the hotel in record time. It was 7:40 – the restaurant was a 10 minute walk away, I wouldn’t be late – well not more than a minute or two – we could always take a taxi. I pulled into the hotel valet parking area, and parking was sold out. Shit. There is a public lot on Clay st, but this would take at least 5 minutes. I broke out the cell phone, and called Sarah.

“Hi, it’s Rich.”

“Hi”

“Hey, I’m just outside the hotel, but the lot is full – hotel guests only. I’m going to pull into the lot under the Embarcadero center. I should be there in 10 minutes.”

“OK, I’m in the lobby. I’ll see you in a few.”

I pulled into the lot and drove down towards hell, winding down the circular ramps through the parking lot. I grabbed the first space I saw. I ran for the exit stairs and climbed them 3 at a time. Winded, I came out on Battery Street, and ran for the hotel. I checked my watch – it was 7:40. I ran across Battery St and leapt for the sidewalk, and painfully missed. The front and side of my right foot landed just on the edge of the curb - the rest of the foot meeting air and falling. My ankle hit the street before my foot and down I went. The pain was intense.

I stood up, checking my ankle, it was bleeding slightly and my sock was badly torn, but I was late. I limped into the lobby. It was 17 minutes before the hour as I entered the lobby. There she was – wearing a beautiful white and lavender cocktail dress – sitting in an overstuffed leather chair. She rose and walked toward me. “You’re limping.” She said.

“Hi. You look beautiful.” I realized that in my rush I left her rose in the truck. She always loved pink roses and I didn’t want to come empty handed – but I bought just one as I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to win her over again.

“Thank you. Hey – you look great too. That’s a new look for you. Nice.” I was wearing the best new clothes from my makeover. Fortunately, the fall didn’t ruin the pants.

“You like it? Joe gave me a makeover.”

“You mean like ‘Queer Eye’?”

“Yeah.”

“What was the occasion?”

"Oh, uhm, I think he got tired of seeing me so shaggy.”

She raised an eyebrow. Man, I never could lie to her – but I wasn’t going to tell her about Lynn. She always seemed a bit jealous about my relationship with her. They had met. This would not be a good thing.

“We better get going. We’ll be late for dinner.”

With the hurt foot – I suggested a taxi even though it was only about 8 blocks to the restaurant. We got a booth by the window with a view of the cable cars going up and down the embarcadero. I ordered the mac and cheese and ahi appetizers and a bottle of wine.

“Why are you in town? What’s the occasion?” I asked

“Oh, I’m on my way up to Seattle. I’ve got a job interview there.” She told me a bit about the company and the job.

“When did you go back to Hawaii?”

“About 6 months ago. I got a temporary job with the state. I’ve been staying with my folks.”

“Why’d you leave California?”

“Oh, the job wasn’t working out. I needed a break. Needed to spend some time sitting on Ala Moana beach."

“I guess those are good enough reasons.” Maybe I should go back for a 6 month break.

“So, you wanted to know why?” She asked after lull in our conversation.

Well, no not really – it hurt, but it was drowned out by the pain of being dumped by Lynn. I was over her now. Frankly the reason doesn’t matter to me anymore. “Well, no you don’t have to go into it. You did what you needed to, and it looks like you’re doing great.” I hoped this would discourage her from going into it.

She plowed on, ignoring my answer. “Rich, you really didn’t want to marry me, did you?” She wasn’t really asking, it was more of an accusation.

I tried really hard not to roll my eyes. Not again. “Yes, I was really ready to marry you.”

“I wish I could believe you. I really do. But I don’t. It really seemed like you were going to marry me because I pushed you into it. I mean, it was so easy to get you to do things. All I had to do was to ask and smile. You’d even do things that I know you didn’t want to do. You never complained. Do you remember that day we drove Karen all over the place?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You wanted to go to that party down in Santa Cruz with Jason and his friends – you missed it just because I asked you to drive her around.”

“She needed help, and she was your friend.”

“And my brother’s graduation party. You spent hours cleaning up after that.”

“Well, he wasn’t in any shape to help. You know, I’d have done anything for you. Not because I’m a pushover – it’s because I loved you. That’s what the whole marriage thing is supposed to be about.”

“You didn’t want to get married. Not at first. You always avoided the subject. You were dragging your feet like crazy.”

“I did want to get married. I mean guys don’t see marriage the same way as women. Look at any magazine store – there are 50 different bride’s magazines for sale, and only one groom’s magazine – for the guy who is such a wimp that he feels compelled to read it with his finance. Of course, you’ll find 50 porn magazines for men. It’s like weddings are porn for women.”

She laughed at that. “I just wore you down. You were just doing it for me. I didn’t want you to marry me just because I nagged you into it. I needed to be wanted – to really be desired. You weren’t giving me that. I just couldn’t get married to someone who didn’t want to. Rich, your heart wasn’t in it. I could tell.”

OK from now on I am going to scream and yell so folks know what I mean. Although at some level she’s right, she was dragging me into it – but isn’t that the way it is with all guys?

“Let me ask you something” She said “would you have sex with a girl who didn’t want to have sex, but was just giving in to you? You nagged her enough that she finally gave in. Would you?”

“There are a lot of guys who would.” I’m pretty sure that’s a common tactic.

“No, would you?” She put an emphasis on the word “you”.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“I know you wouldn’t. That’s one of the reasons I love you.” She paused. “But it’s the same thing. I couldn’t marry you just because I henpecked you into it. I felt so bad about forcing you into it and then backing out. I was so embarrassed.” She held a hand over her face. "I mean I was pushing so hard to get everything done -- and then I took a breath, and wondered why I was pushing so hard. Then I panicked."

“Wow. Is that why you wouldn’t answer my calls?”

“Yeah.”

“You really thought that I was dumb enough to marry you just because you nagged me? You think I would commit myself for life just because I got henpecked?” Wow, what a tragedy. I couldn’t believe it.

“Well, like I said, it was so easy to get you to do things. You’re so pushable.”

“It’s the blond hair right?”

She laughed. “No. I’d think you’re dumb even if you were bald.”

I don’t know if it’s the blond hair or not, but she always did think of me as a bit dim. Maybe this was the way things should have worked out.

“Why didn’t you tell me this? “ WTF, I’m supposed to read your mind?

“If I told you, you would have fixed it. I mean if I asked you to serenade me in my apartment from the parking lot you would have done it. If I asked you to send me a dozen roses to my office everyday for 2 weeks you would have done it. If I asked you to carry me away like at the end of “An Officer and a Gentleman” you would have barged through security picked me up and carried me out of the building. And it is wonderful that you would do those things, but…” she looked away “but I needed you to do them without being asked. It needed to come from your heart. I don’t want a guy who is willing to accept a ‘yes’. I need a guy who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. When I called off the wedding, you didn’t really try to get me back. You knew where I lived, you knew where I worked. You knew a lot of my friends. Rich, when we started out, you did all these crazy and creative things to get me to notice you. Do you remember when you sprinkled pink rose petals all over my office?”

“Yeah. Do you how hard it was to convince the security staff that I wasn’t stalking you?”

She laughed. “I think so.”

“Come to think of it, if you didn’t find me charming – that could have been seen as creepy and stalker like.”

“But, Rich, you were this wildly romantic and spontaneous guy. You could have been the one who doesn’t take no for an answer. And I wanted you to be that guy. It wouldn’t have surprised me to drive down (highway) 237 and see a billboard that said ‘Sarah, don’t leave me’ or to come out and find my car covered with a thousand ‘I love you’ stickers.”

“So you called off the wedding to see if I would chase you?”

“Rich, I know guys don’t really want to get married. But there are guys who know that someone is really right for them – and they show it. In the beginning you made me feel so special, and in the end – you didn’t, not at all. I didn’t call off the wedding to see if you would chase me. I called it off because the magic that we had was gone. And I didn’t want to live the rest of my life with guy who doesn’t make me feel special. Even if you would do anything I asked. Even though I do love you. Even though you are a great guy. I didn’t expect you to chase me. But I would have loved it if you did. I don’t know if that would have brought back the magic or not. If it didn’t I wouldn’t have married you anyway.” She let out a heavy sigh. “Rich, I need - and I deserve a guy that makes me feel special and who knows he really wants me. I know I’ll need to drag him to the altar. But he’ll be worth it.”

“That will be one lucky guy.” I smiled at her. “We couldn’t have had this conversation a year ago, could we?”

“No, we couldn’t. It would have been a mess.”

“God, you are so smart when it comes to matters of the heart. I seem to fumble through relationships. How did you get it all figured out so well?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised…”

Dinner was wonderful. We lingered over it until almost 11. We walked back to the hotel. On the way I ran (well, OK limped) down to the truck and got her rose. We went to the hotel bar for a nightcap. Sarah doesn’t really hold her liquor well – a glass of wine usually does her in. After a cognac she would be loopy.

After a drink we took the elevator up to her floor and I walked her back to her room. We stopped in front of it. “Thanks for calling me. I had a wonderful time tonight.” I leaned in to give her a gentlemanly kiss good night.

She leaned back momentarily and said “So have I, so far, anyway.” Then she leaned in to kiss me. She gave me a good hug and a real kiss. “Wow, you’ve been working out.” She said rubbing my shoulders. “You want to come in for a minute?”

What!?!? “Where are we going with this? Are we getting back together?”

“Why do we have to go anywhere? We are two consenting adults, we’re both currently unattached…”

“How do you know I’m unattached?”

“Oh, I have my spies…” she smiled at me.

I guess I was looking trepidatious, because she said, “You really don’t want to do this, do you?”

Nope, this is a really bad idea. “Well… I… “ I searched for the right words.

“Oh shit, Rich, I haven’t had sex for more than 6 months. Come on.”

Wow, you really know how to charm a guy. I wonder if a line like that would ever work on a girl? Someone try it and let me know. In her defense, she probably had had a bit too much to drink. And she is really cute when she does.

But I thought if I went through that door someone, somehow, would get hurt. It would probably be me, and it would probably hurt more than getting my balls caught in a vise. I also couldn’t help thinking that I was taking advantage of her in a weakened condition. If I did go through that door, it might be something that she would regret in the morning. But as any regular reader of my blog knows, I am both weak and stupid – especially where women are concerned.

I took the card key from her as she smiled and sniffed her rose. I opened the door and held it for her. I followed her in. She dropped her purse and the flower on the table in the entryway. She led me over to the bed. She turned off the room light and turned to kiss me. The smell of her hair and the taste of her lips brought back a rush of memories. Life with her was so good. And she was such a kind person when compared to Lynn. I started to kick myself for not getting that billboard off 237.

She started to unbutton my shirt. As she got to the belt line she pulled it from my pants and ran her fingers over my stomach. “Wow, you’re really been working out!” She ran her fingers over my stomach again, not sensually, but clinically, as a physician might. “You’ve got abs! You never told me this.” She turned on the light and leaned down for a good look. “Wow” she said slowly. I started to feel naked.

Since the breakup, I have been paddling my kayak between 20 and 22 miles per week. Each mile takes me about 1000 strokes. Each stroke, if performed correctly, involves the arms placing the paddle in the water, followed by a twist of the torso to move the paddle backwards, with a pull forward with the shoulder opposite the paddle in the water. This, effectively, is a short abdominal crunch. I’ve been doing at least 20,000 of these a week. It really is a good overall workout for the upper body. My muscles protested a lot in the beginning, but now they have built up quite a bit. At the same time, I have lost my appetite. I just have had no desire to eat. With the high calorie burn, and the low calorie intake I am down to about 3 ounces of body fat. My weight is up to almost 140 lbs, from a low of 132. I’m still heroin addict thin, but I do have some real muscle definition for the first time in my life. Anyway, what Sarah remembered as a nice soft underbelly is now a hard and well defined set of abdominals.

“I’ve been exercising quite a bit lately – mostly paddling my kayak.”

“It shows.” She undid my belt and let my trousers drop. I kicked off my shoes and stepped out of my pants, and went to remove my socks – one of which was torn and well crusted with dried blood. I excused myself to the bathroom – I turned off the light on my way.

I pulled the torn and bloody sock off. The ankle had been aching, but when I washed the blood off I could see that it was purple and swollen. It was really pretty gross. I'd post a picture of it, but it's too gross for the internet. This is going to take a while to heal. I’m glad I’m not a runner.

When I returned, I saw that Sarah had hung up her dress in the closet and was in the bed under the covers. I climbed in and relearned all of the curves of her body. It was a wonderful evening – but bittersweet, as I knew that she would be flying off to Seattle on Sunday night. I drifted happily off to sleep with my arm around her, her hand resting on my newly fascinating abs.

-----------

I woke as the light started to stream in the window. I was struck by a single disturbing thought. If she hadn’t had sex in over 6 months – it means she had someone after me. Sarah is not the kind of girl to hop into bed on the first date (at least she didn’t with me) that means she was seeing someone really soon after she dumped me. It took me almost 9 months to find someone.

I rolled over. I just didn’t want to think about this. She was an available consenting adult – I had no claim over her. It was none of my business. I just hated the thought that there might have been another guy that helped her make up her mind as she considered running from the altar. This was going to bug me for a while. I was left wondering if she gave me the whole story.

Later that morning – not able to sleep myself –I was watching her sleep. Why the hell did I ever let her get away? I thought seriously about what she had said last night. The magic had gone, but doesn’t every relationship fade a bit with time? Perhaps, but you should always make your partner feel special. I guess this is the lesson that life is trying to pound (oh so painfully) into my head. OK, I get it. I’ll be on my best behavior from here on out. Just make the pain go away –and bring me Tiffany the underwear model.

After, I’m not sure how long, she opened her eyes. She was facing me and she smiled this big grin. “Hey” I said.

“Hey, you. You’re a wonderful sight to wake up to.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” OK from here it gets syrupy and just too sweet – I’ll spare you so you don’t blow chunks on your keyboard. After few minutes she lifts up the sheets to look at my abs.

“That is sooo cool. I can’t believe you have abs. I’ve got to tell Laurel.”

“You tell your girlfriends about my body?”

“Well, no, not usually. But you never had anything worth mentioning before.”

“You rat!” I laughed and swung a pillow at her.

She pulled up the sheet again. “Wow” she said slowly again.

This was so good for my ego. Of course, blogging about it so much is kind of like bragging. So, enough said, she likes my stomach.

I got up and called Wayne (my boss) and told him I would be out sick today. Next I phoned room service and ordered a huge breakfast. I was really hungry. After it arrived we sat at the little rolling table in front of the window and enjoyed hot coffee and a big mess of breakfast with a view of the bay. Sarah looked at me incredulously “You can eat like that and stay thin? Life isn’t fair.”

“No, I’ve been on a special diet lately.”

“Oh, what one?”

“Oh, uhm, low fat – kind of a cardiac thing. Not getting any younger you know.”

“I haven’t seen any low fat eating.”

“Well, you’re here. That’s worth celebrating, right?”

I looked at her seriously. “Any regrets?” I asked.

She looked pensively out the window. Oh crap. I knew it. “Yeah” she said.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I knew this was a bad idea. I just…”

“I have plenty of regrets – “ she interrupted “just, not about last night.” She laughed at me. I was so relieved.

We spent the day shopping and sight seeing like the old days. San Francisco is such a romantic city. We lunched at the restaurant in Nordstrom’s in Union Square. Sarah really enjoys shopping and Union Square is a target rich environment.

As it got later in the afternoon, I told her that I needed to go home to get some fresh clothes.

“So,” she asked me “you had a change of clothes, bathroom stuff, and condoms in your truck when you came to see me. Were you planning on getting lucky?” It was clear that she did not think that this was an appropriate plan.

“You know, after you dumped me, I did some alcohol abuse. OK, a lot of alcohol abuse. I ended up getting drunk a lot to dull the pain. But I didn’t want to drink and drive, so I started carrying a change of clothes in the truck in case I had one or two too many somewhere. I usually ended up drinking at Maurizio’s place or with Jim and Lynn – they would just put me up for the night. It was just more convenient to keep a fresh set of clothes in the truck. It just became a habit. Now if I’m out paddling with a friend, I can clean up and be social instead of having to run home.”

She crossed her arms, “and the condoms?” She raised an eyebrow in an accusing way.

“Well, ahhh, you dumped me, remember? I was an unattached consenting adult. Once or twice an opportunity came up. It’s always good to be prepared.”

“Huh” she said. “Once or twice.”

“Hey, last night you said you hadn’t had sex in 6 months. If my math is right I’m not the only one who was playing the field. So when exactly did you hook up with your new boy friend?”

“Don’t we need to go down to Mountain View to get you some fresh clothes?”

I love the way she blatantly changes the subject whenever she doesn’t want to answer a question. I laughed at her. At that moment I realized that she went back to Hawaii about 6 months ago – the same time she last had sex.

“Let’s see, he was dangerous, exciting – a bit of a bad boy”

“How did you know?” she asked with genuine puzzlement.

“And he hurt you, it ended badly.”

“How…” she was stunned.

“A lucky guess. A little deduction. I just figured he would be a pretty good contrast to me. I’m safe, rather predictable – dull as you once said. I’m the nice polite boy that you mom wants you to marry. Since you left me at the altar, I figured you would probably run off with someone exciting and wild. Someone who made your heart race.”

“He turned out to be kind of a jerk – but there never was a dull moment. Ho boy.” She sighed. “You’re pretty smart – for a blond guy.”

We went down to Mountain View. I gave her the nickel tour of my rented home. As we went through the kitchen she noticed the wine rack and commented how much she liked it. It was the same one that I had bought as a house warming gift for Lynn. After she tossed me out – I bought one of my own. It actually really bothers me now, as it just reminds me of her – but it is really cool looking.

Sarah wanted me to barbecue her a chicken for dinner. Of all the things that I cook – she always liked a simple grilled chicken the best. Some olive oil, salt and pepper on the outside, and garlic cloves, sprigs of fresh thyme, and some lemon slices inside. I slowly grill it over indirect heat from a mesquite charcoal fire. Good basic food. We ate it out on the back deck with some sticky white rice (it’s a Hawaii thing).

I packed some clothes and we went back up to the city and spent the night in her hotel room. As we were getting ready for bed, I realized that last night we had used a condom that she had brought – I reminded her of this. She blushed – which was unusual for her. “Were you planning on getting lucky?”

She sheepishly grinned. “Yeah.”

“So why were you accusing me of plotting evil just because I came prepared?”

“It’s a woman’s prerogative.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I never said it was.” And she kissed me.

Saturday, after we had breakfast in the hotel restaurant we went out playing tourist in San Francisco – riding the cable cars, wandering though fisherman’s wharf and pier39. We dined at Kuleto’s and had a wonderful time – one of our favorite restaurants. You can’t get a seat there on a Saturday night without a reservation weeks in advance – we sat in the bar and had dinner. I couldn’t help being confused about where all of this was going. Was this just a wonderful weekend or was there more to it? It was weird, since I really had gotten over her (at least I thought so) – but she never left my heart. I felt myself falling all over again. It was so easy to love her.

Later that night, as we were tangled up in each other, she sighed and said “Rich, you’re like an old pair of jeans – so comfortable, so familiar, so easy.” I’m pretty sure that she meant this as a compliment, and not an insult. But, you know, I really want some woman to see me as the sexy red dress – not the comfy old jeans that get tossed on the floor and left behind. I’m comfortable. I’m safe. Just once – I want to be dangerous, I want to be thrilling. I want to make her knees tremble and her heart race. Honestly, I don’t think I have done that to anyone in my life.

“Thanks” I replied to her compliment. “This has been such a perfect weekend.” I waited for a response, but none came. “When can we do it again?”

“I don’t know, Rich.”

“Will you answer my calls? Will you reply to my e-mails?”

“Yes. I will.” She answered. I hugged her tight.

--------------------------

On Sunday afternoon I drove her to the Oakland airport. With a heavy heart I waited while she checked in for her flight. We walked to the security line. She put her arms around me and leaned back so that she could see my face. “Rich, you’re going to be OK, you know that.” She was smiling. She was happy. I was trying so hard not to cry.

“Thanks, I know.” I blinked. I did not want her to see how sad I was. I was not going to cry. “Thanks for a wonderful weekend.”

“Thanks for everything, Rich. I had a great time.”

I’m not going to cry.

“Any magic?”

She looked up, considering the question. She frowned slightly and nodded, “I think there’s a little magic going on here.”

I’m not going to cry.

“Will you take my calls, will you reply to my e-mails?”

“I will. I promise.” She kissed me lightly and turned away. I smiled.

I did not cry.

I waved at her as she lugged her bag up onto the X-ray conveyor belt. I turned away so there was no way that she could see my face - and then I cried like a baby.

Oh, shit. This really hurts. I am so fucking not over her.

Another Date

“You know, she doesn’t seem that happy. Not like when you two were together.” I was sharing a plate of carpaccio with Linda. Linda was one of the secretaries at my previous employer. She’s really nice. She is a single mother of a 10 year old son and lives with her mother in south San Jose. She was pretty close to Lynn when they worked together. She was referring to Lynn.

Just to keep from being alone, I have been asking out just about every woman that I know. On evenings that I’m not working I’ll take someone of the female persuasion out to dinner. I’m a bit embarrassed to say it’s like an ego thing. Seeing how many women I can take out. But it’s just dinner, and I usually dine at pretty good establishments – so you can’t really call it a great accomplishment. I’m not leading them on, it’s just a dinner. I only take a gentlemanly and polite peck of a goodnight kiss at the end of the evening. Soon, what’s left over of my severance package will be gone and I’ll need to start watching my money a bit better. Anyway, I’ve taken out the lady from payroll, and purchasing, 3 from accounting, and 1 from support, and a secretary. Just for the record, all these women are single, available, and not from my current workplace.

Linda was telling me about the party at Liz’s. Tim was there with Lynn. “Lynn was a lot more reserved than usual, and she wasn’t smiling a lot. You two were a great couple. You both had these silly grins on your faces all the time when you were together – well, after you had sex.”

“She told you when we…”

“Oh, Rich, It was so obvious.”

“I miss her.”

“I was talking with her. You know, it’s weird. Didn’t you get upset when she started sleeping with Tim?”

I almost dropped my fork. “I’ve never been more upset in my life.”

“She seemed to think that you didn’t care that much.”

“Cause I didn’t hurt her, or break anything, or throw a tantrum?”

“I don’t know. I guess she expected more of a reaction.”

“Well, Jim certainly would have given that to her. You know, she asked me if I wanted to hit her after I had found out. Isn’t that weird?”

“Maybe she was abused at some time back. Did you react? I mean in a way that she could tell?”

“Yeah, I did.” I nodded slowly “She knows I was devastated.”

“Jim really treated her badly. I don’t know why she was with him for so long. Once we were out at a concert and he reached down her dress and grabbed her breast – right there in public. It was disgusting. She should have slapped him.”

“Well, he treated her badly in public. You never know what went on in private. I certainly can’t understand it. She told me that she didn’t cheat on him – well until we got together. But by that time she had already decided to leave him.” I took a long sip of wine. “She couldn’t bring herself to cheat on him. But she could so easily cheat on me. I don’t get it. Anyway, a bunch of guys gave her plenty of opportunities to stray while she was with Jim, and she turned them all down.” (including me, although I didn’t say that out loud). I sat silent for a while. “Did you know that he hit her?”

“Who, Jim?”

“Yeah. That’s when he decided to leave him.”

“At least she had the sense to get out once it got physical.” She though about this, I don’t think she hadn’t learned that Jim had hit Lynn. “But there’s a lot more to abuse than a fist, you know.” She added.

We moved on the nicer topics. It was easy to have a good conversation with Linda. This actually turned out to be one of the better dates I had been on in a while.

Driving back to Linda’s house the conversation had turned back to Lynn. “She wanted me to share her. You know, I get her half the time and Tim gets her the other half. I was almost ready to do it. But in the end I just couldn’t.”

“Wow, I’d like to have two men.”

“Yeah I know,” I said dismissively. “But what if you loved one of them?”

She thought about this. “Nah, probably not. But if it was just sex, now that’s another story.” She grinned widely. I explained how I tried to get back at Tim, and how Lynn wouldn’t let me.

We were parked in front of her house. “Rich, you’re a really sweet guy. You know, it’s her loss – not yours.” That comment is really starting to piss me off. I’ve lost and I hurt. As best I can tell, she doesn’t. It’s like I should just stop hurting because she’s done something dumb. She has done something dumb – I am better than Tim (at least I think so). But it still hurts - a lot.

“Thanks.” I said swallowing my anger and smiling at her.

“So, Rich, did you ask me out tonight so that you could have sex with me?”

This was a question that I really didn’t want to answer. What’s the right answer? I know that a sincere and non threatening advance is always flattering. But having her think that I was after her could change our relationship. On the other hand, “no” is only good if she doesn’t want it. “Hell hath no fury,” after all. I searched her eyes for the answer and came up blank. I couldn’t read her. How bad would “maybe” sound? Pretty bad, huh?

“Linda, you are wonderful. I don’t want to say anything that might possibly offend you. Can I take the 5^th on that?”

The truth is that I did not want to have sex with her (I hope to god she never reads this.) Not that I don’t find her attractive – I do. It’s just not what I want now. I really want Lynn. While it would be fun and distracting to have a roll in the hay with Linda, it seems like the resulting complications would be more trouble than it’s worth. It would end with one of us hurt – and I can’t handle that now.

Anyway, Linda beamed at my reply. Whatever she wanted to hear, it seems like this was the right answer. “Thanks, Rich” and she kissed me on the cheek.

I walked her to her door and gave her a kiss goodnight. For the first time since high school I worried about her mother peeking through the front curtains.

Driving home I was feeling even more alone than usual.

Jason has a Girlfriend

I was shocked, shocked I tell you! I came home from work last night to a dark house. Which is not all that unusual. As often as not my housemates are off to bed before I arrive home. I opened the door to the kitchen, got a beer out of the fridge and walked toward the living room. I was planning on channel surfing a bit before heading off to bed. But as I walked into the living room I was faced with a posterior. A woman’s posterior. A woman’s naked posterior. The front half of the woman was under a large blanket which was spread out on the floor. The top half of my housemate, Jason, was poking out the far side of the blanket. They were engaged in some, ah, amorous activity. Use your imagination.

I was shocked. Not at seeing the naked bottom half of a woman. I actually kinda liked that – it was rather shapely. I was shocked that Jason had gotten so far with a girl. It’s not that Jason is a bad guy or anything. But you need to understand, this is a house inhabited by three programmers (OK, nerds). So far, since I moved in about a year ago, there has been only one girlfriend that any of us had and I only had her for a few weeks. Way to go Jason. Judging from what little I saw of her, she was quite a catch.

I quietly retreated to my bedroom.

-------------------

This morning I got up early, as has been my habit and went paddling on the bay. When I got home to take a shower before work I met the top half of Amanda – which was every bit as attractive as the bottom half. She was in the dining room reading the paper. I knew that Jason had been going out with her for a while, but I didn’t know they were so serious (OK, perhaps they’re not serious – but their relationship has seriously advanced). I made a pot of coffee and poured us both a cup.

We chatted about nothing much in particular. I learned that she was living in an apartment in Sunnyvale, she likes country western music, and she is the receptionist at a computer company in Cupertino (no, not the really famous one). She has two cats named Ginger and Mary Anne. That was all of her life story that I got before Jason came out of his bedroom all dressed up and (sniff sniff) smelling good – in a masculine sort of way. They greeted each other with the silliest grins – OK, at some level I’m jealous - and then they headed off for work.

I want a girlfriend, too. Not just any girlfriend – I want my Lynn back. Damn it.

Lost Weekend

Last week I was feeling particularly sorry for myself. On Friday after work, I took my packed up weekend bag and drove north. I planned to go north to Mendocino. There is a nice motel perched over the harbor there just off California's highway 1. It is a good place for the mind and soul. I found it on my trip up the coast last November.

Instead, I found myself traveling to Napa. The truck just headed that way. Less good for the body and soul, but I needed to get numb, to get the pain out of my mind.

I found a vacancy at the Hilton Garden Inn right in downtown Napa. I’m sure I could get better rates by planning ahead, but this was a bit of a spontaneous change of destination. The traffic was pretty light getting there. I checked in at about 8. I promptly went down to the hotel bar and drank a bottle of wine for dinner. I have no appetite. I sat at the bar and watched folks come and go.

All couples.

I’ve been dumped before. But I’ve never been hurt like this before. God, where did I go wrong? What have I done to deserve this? OK, gentle reader, I won’t go over that again and again. But it keeps playing in my head. I was so close. Why am I the chopped liver boy?

OK. ‘Nuff whining. I know it gets tiresome.

Once the bottle was gone I went up stars to take a shower and go to sleep. After tossing and turning for a couple of hours I went back downstairs and had a couple of whiskeys (no minibar in the room). I don’t know that it helped all that much. I finally got to sleep at about 3:00 a.m. I woke about 7, and stared out the window trying to understand what happened. I spent most of the morning hungover and in a sleep deprivation fog. I ate a small breakfast and then drove north for a while. Up route 29 to Calistoga and then beyond. Driving is a bit calming.

I found myself way the heck north of Napa. There was a park – I can’t remember the name – but it had a big grassy area overlooking a valley. I sat there for a while and stared off into space. Will I ever get over this? Will I ever be the same? Probably not.

The sun was getting low in the sky. I got back in the truck and drove south. I hadn’t abused any alcohol yet today, and I wanted to start off doing it well. I drove to L’auberge du Soleil, a really great restaurant North of Napa, with a great bar that overlooks the valley. I thought it might do me some good.

I walked in and asked for a seat at the bar. The bartender asked me if I was expecting someone. I said yes, but not for a while and asked for the wine list. I ordered a bottle of the cheapest merlot on the list. Of course, here cheapest isn’t all that cheap. I’m going to run out of money if this goes on for much longer. I don’t even care. I’ll sit under a bridge and drink thunderbird.

After a while I noticed an attractive lady arrive at the bar. Again, in this romantic couples oriented place, the bartender asked her if she was alone. She said she was. She was two seats down from me. I told her, in the most joking voice that I could muster, that sitting alone here was frowned upon.

At this, her chin wrinkled and a tear welled up in her eye her. She quickly regained her composure and asked “Well, what’s your excuse?” Rather hostilely.

“Sorry”, I said, “I’ve had a bad year so far. That was inexcusable of me – quite insensitive.” I continued to apologize profusely. The pain has turned me into a jerk. I offered her a glass of my merlot. The bartender immediately produced a glass. I poured her one.

“Thanks, don’t worry about it. I’m OK. It’s just.. I mean…” she stammered “Oh, hell. It’s my husband.” She downed half the glass. “This”, she paused and her eyes welled up again, “is our 20^th wedding anniversary and he is with his mistress.”

Wow. OK. This was not what I was expecting. At all.

“His company” she said - a tear rolled down her cheek. “It consumes him. It means more to him to spend time running that damn business than to be with me on our 20^th and last anniversary.” She spat out the word “last”

Again, wow. Not what I was expecting. I looked at the bartender. She was wide eyed and rapt. I guess even for a barkeep this is pretty unusual stuff.

I looked back at her and held out my hand and said “Hi, I’m Rich,” giving her the most winning smile that I could manage.

She laughed and sobbed at the same time and held out her hand and said “I’m Helen. I didn’t mean in unload on you like that. ‘Rich’ as in Richard? That’s cute”

“Hi Helen.”

“So what’s your story? Why are you here alone and cranky?”

“Well, it’s a very long story.”

“I’ve got nothing but time. And I already dumped on you.”

“Don’t say ‘dumped’, please” I gave her the whole story – from Sarah to Lynn. It felt good to talk it out.

It turned out that she had planned this trip with her husband to Napa from the east coast for their 20^th anniversary. Her husband, a compulsive work-a-holic was in the throes of, well, business, and decided to stay home (and I thought I make stupid decisions when it comes to women). She was so pissed that she decided to go anyway. The kids are old enough to take care of themselves, they have enough money to live well, and this was to be their together time.

In the middle of trading stories we moved to the patio, where 2 heater lamps were immediately lit, fresh water produced and clean wine glasses brought out. This place really has good service. I made a mental note to tip well.

The evening was winding down, we had found that misery loves company and connected in some way. She mentioned that she had a hot tub on her patio, and it seemed a waste not to take advantage of it. I immediately agreed – it was getting cold and I love hot tubs. I decided to get another bottle of the cheapest, well, most inexpensive (nothing is cheap at this place) Merlot to take back to her room. She asked the waiter for an alternate selection – she has really good taste. She picked up my check and signed it to her room. I protested, but was incredibly grateful, as this dinner probably cost more than my hotel room for the weekend.

We giggled and stumbled up to her room – which was a cottage, probably bigger then any apartment I have ever lived in. It was amazing. She went into the bedroom and asked me to get some glasses and pour some wine and meet her on the patio. She came out in a one piece bathing suit, and said “I bet you don’t have trunks” she frowned.

“No, I hadn’t planned on swimming this trip. I’m not really shy – but I don’t want to offend you.” I inhaled expectantly.

“Let me check and see if I have anything. I may have some shorts that will fit you.” She went back into the bedroom. “You are probably a bit skinnier than I am.” She came out with a pair of unisex athletic shorts. “Here, you can wear these.”

I really thought she had lured me up here to sleep with me. Silly me. Overly optimistic, perhaps. What’d I miss? Anyway, the hot tub with some good company and good wine was soothing enough for my broken soul.

I poured the wine and set it outside near the hot tub on the patio. The view and setting were spectacular. This place must be really expensive. I changed into her shorts. (OK, no jokes about getting into her pants – that’s too easy.) The shorts were serviceable but loose. I pulled on the rich terrycloth robe provided by the hotel and went out to hot tub.

The water was warm and wonderful, and I was quite drunk. I was starting to worry about the sleeping arrangements. I could always sleep in the truck, but I bet the hotel frowns on that sort of thing, probably more than it does for single folks in the bar. I’m betting that security trolls the parking lots more than once a night. I really didn’t want to spend the money that it would cost to get a room here. Maybe she'd let me sleep on her couch.

We drank and talked some more. Another bottle was dead. She asked if I wanted any more. I told her that it was up to her. I was enjoying her company more than I enjoyed anything in the last – it seems like forever, but it was only – four weeks. She proposed some brandy. I got up to get it, but she told me to sit down. She went in to get it.

The lights went out and she returned with two brandy snifters. When she pulled off her robe I saw she had left the bathing suit behind. She gave me a long kiss, and ran her hand down my side. My eyes are pretty good in the dark. I’m not sure what she was so shy about.

We went back to the bedroom and made love. And for the first time since, well, you know, I fell blissfully to sleep - with my arms wrapped around her.

I woke at about 4 in the morning. Still half drunk, but with the pain intruding again. I went to the living room (this place is really huge) to stare out the window. How can this hurt so much? This on top of that the pangs from “Our lady of perpetual guilt” (yeah, I was raised catholic) were starting to sink in. I think I hit 5 of the seven deadlies tonight. Maybe six. I took two whiskey miniatures from the bar (not a mini bar – this was a real bar), poured them into a highball and drained it in two swallows.

Helen came out from the bedroom after about 15 minutes. “Hey, are you OK?” she asked quietly.

“No, but I’m better than I have been in weeks. Thank you. Thank you so much”

She rubbed my back. “No, Thank you. I’m a little better too.”

We made love again, and then I slept to about 10:00 a.m.

----------------------------

I woke when I heard the shower running. I went into the bathroom. She was in the glassed in shower stall. “Aaagh” she screamed. “What are you doing?” She frantically covered herself.

“You are really beautiful.” I said. I wasn’t lying and I wasn’t drunk.

“For an old lady. Out!” She ordered.

I ducked out behind the door. “For anyone” I yelled.

I dressed and went to the truck to retrieve my clean clothes and bathroom stuff.

-----------------------------

After a nice Sunday brunch in the hotel restaurant, we decided to check me out of my hotel and do some wine tasting. I walked her out to my truck. “You drive a truck?” she asked, incredulous.

“Well, yeah. What did you think?”

“I didn’t think MetroSexuals drove trucks. You listen to Jazz, not country. Your fingernails are manicured, aren’t they?”

“Uh, yeah, but it was a special occasion. They’re not usually.” I think that was the first time I was accused of being a ‘metro-sexual’ – at least to my face.

“I had you pegged for a Lexus, not a BMW – you’re too laid back. You’re young, so maybe the entry model.”

“You’re right, actually, I would like to drive one.” I told her about my hit and run episode and the reason for buying the behemoth truck. I know the luxury cars are probably safer, but mass has significant advantages in a crash.

“Let’s take my car” she said. It turned out to be a rented Jaguar (Hertz, prestige collection). It was really nice. She drove.

We went back to my hotel and I checked out. Then we went to visit a few wineries. We ended at Sterling in Calistoga. I really like that winery – the wines are pretty good (although, they could be better, given their resources) but the tasting room in awesome. Sarah and I used to go there a lot.

After that we went back to her hotel and made love one last time in the late afternoon, and had a room service dinner (which was really good). It was 8 and I needed to leave. “Let’s stay in touch” I said. OK, yeah, I have issues on letting go.

She gave me a crooked smile. “Oh Rich, it would never work out”

Why do people keep telling me this? “Why not?” I asked.

“Beside the fact that you are almost 20 years younger than me, and we live on different coasts?”

OK, if you want to go with the obvious. “It’s closer to ten, and I travel a lot.” She gave me a skeptical look. “It’s not the sex – it’s you.” I said. “We don’t have to have an affair – I just want to hear from you from time to time. You made me laugh at a time when I forgot how to do that”

“Rich, it would be a really bad idea.”

“You’re not leaving him, are you?”

“Well, it’s not like he cheated on me.” Ouch. Pangs of guilt? Perhaps. I didn’t mean to complicate her life. We talk for a bit more and then we kissed and hugged one last time.

I left her my e-mail address and phone numbers. She didn’t reciprocate. I have a sad feeling that I will never hear from her again.

Hey, I think I just got dumped again -- although you really can’t get dumped by a one nighter.

This year sucks.

I really needed Helen – I was lucky to find her.

It was such a long drive home. I was dead tired, but I knew I won’t sleep well that night.