zero?” This never made me look good, because shortly thereafter, my yelling would sound like:
“Susan!”, losing my breath by the second, “Susan, I’m stuck in these pants. Help me out!” Any woman can feel my pain, well, except Susan.
“Ok hon, be right there. First, let me grab a size 14. Those are great pants!” I wasn’t sure where she had located a mega-phone to make that announcement, but I was none too pleased about it. I needed a rebuttal and quick.
“It’s the baby fat! Boy is it hard to get back down that size 8!”, (a size that was a mere hypothetical fit in the past). If my memory serves me correctly, that was the last time we went shopping together.
My new strategy is brilliant. I drive to Target, find pants large enough to fit over the clothing I have on. If it zips, it fits. Viola!! As far as shirts, I love Oxford mens’ shirts. I get the sizes that have at least one x, and they are guaranteed to fit. I even found one of those swimsuits that have a little skirt attached to the bottom. It seems to resemble something from the roaring 20’s, which is fine as long as it covers an ass that has doubled since the baby. So far, I’m not pre-baby weight. Hopefully this pesky baby weight drops by the time I hit 80.
There are also the exercise suggestions. Susan tries to make it sound fun. “Hey it’s yoga tonight!” I stare at her thinking, “If I drug and tie her up, maybe she will forget about the class”. Going to yoga with Susan is the worst! I look like a statue in a garden, trying to break out to do down-dog, or some stupid name for a ridiculous stretch. I got stuck the last time and pulled my groin. She’s acting like I have forgotten the eight hours in the emergency room. I haven’t had a man touch me in those places since my only boyfriend in college.
Then it was dance classes on date night. Now, when I think about date night, the word “exercise” has no place. This is primarily my fault. There is this slight chance that when we first started going out, I may have mentioned how outdoorsy I am. I may be nit picky now, but in my mind, outdoors covers things like walking in a parking lot to the movies, or going to an outside concert. She took it as: I like to hike.
Ironic how our first date was a jaunt around a lake that rest in a flat part in the mountains. I hate nature! That sounds so ignorant, but I believe there is a reason why there is IMAX: there isn’t any car sickness, one doesn’t have to worry about being mauled by wild animals, etc. You get the point. I prefer a cool, dark theater with rocking seats. No buttered popcorn in the wilderness, is there? A Raisenette is nowhere insight. Just dirt and trees. Nature makes me claustrophobic. It doesn’t make any sense to me to be out there. But, it made me so thrilled we were going out, that I might have even sounded excited about the plans. In truth, I should have cleared up my earlier claim right then, but I was not going to throw a wrench in the date I really wanted. It went poorly.
I was anxious as I prepared to leave my art studio that I was renting out - and sleeping in. It was above the restaurant where I bussed tables and ate 99% of my meals. I felt like an alley cat. I got the leftovers for working the early shift every Sunday. At that time, I had sold three paintings and was barely making it. But when you do a craft like painting, and you just couldn’t imagine doing anything else - a starving artist wasn’t a fad for me. I would work until I died. And at that time, my finances would be what they were. I tell my boys that is what passion feels like. That being said, when I pulled up to her office and saw where she worked, we would not be hanging out at my place.
I was supposed to pick her up, and was a little skeptical of the off-brand scooter from China I drove. It had been experiencing some technical problems and had a top speed of 40, so I borrowed my friend’s vintage VW bus. When she pulled up in a new luxury car that dealership tags, I was happy I had borrowed the van. I’m not sure why, but when I said “hop in!”, she did. I’m not even sure why I said that at all. A new luxury car, or a 62 VW bus? For me, I would take the VW all day long, I just didn’t think that would be what Susan would choose. I was psyched when she seemed happy to join me. The stereo in her new automobile cost more than the than the scooter I owned, and the van I borrowed combined. What was genuinely considered cool to me, was a curiosity to her. It occurred to me that she had never dated poor.
I had such a crush on her that I was willing to be her good deed. Even if for one day. So off we trekked. I was pleased that she knew Bad Company, and we even sang. The impromptu of letting go made me so happy!
Clunk, pow, baloop, baloop, baloop. “Fuck, I think we have a flat tire.” I called Mat, the owner who told me there was a spare. While we waited for a tow truck to exchange sick rubber for healthy, we ate the peanut butter sandwiches I had packed. What was a financial necessity for me, was a novelty for her.
“Have you ever gone out with a woman before?” I was so shocked that I asked. I mean if all was smooth, no way. But after all, we were broken down. I really doubted there would be a second date, let alone a relationship. I decided I had nothing to lose. Sometimes you have one chance at great - always take it!
It seemed like her chewing slowed on purpose while she thought of her answer. I instantly wished I could retract, object, something. “Once.” She swallowed, and I instantly felt jealous. Foolish. This wasn’t going anywhere, who was I kidding? Me for one. I listened intently.
“I interned at her office in law school. She was a bit older than I was. I fell hard.” Those words hit my stomach like rocks. The way she spoke, as she remembered falling in-love with someone that wasn’t me, almost hurt.
“Did you go out for long?”, I asked. What was I doing? But I was so intrigued I continued, even though it felt like I was a “cutter” who sliced until bloody. A need few would understand. I stood before her bleeding metaphorically.
“It was more of a fling. She had just split up with someone. I was there, she was lonely...” Her voice trailed off and without knowing it, she instantly looked sad. “Anyway, after I went back to school, that was that. You’re my official second date with a woman. You?”
Ugh, I was just going to sound down right slutty. “A few more than you. Like, all but one boyfriend in college. I’ve always been gay. I just dated the guy because I didn’t know what I felt. He asked, I agreed. I didn’t fall head-over-heels like you did. I never have, actually.” Except you. That was what I was thinking, anyway.
The tow truck pulled up. We both seemed relieved. Way too early for that kind of conversation. But then again, the rules change when the date starts with a flat tire. The driver was a woman? We studied hard. The name was Terry, but it seemed like there was a bra. But that is confusing when a beard is also involved. The hands were that of a woman, but the walk, the voice, who knew?
We watched Terry work in silence. Looking at each other, knowing we were both thinking the same thing, trying not to laugh. I gave Terry my AAA card, signed, and a very husky “thank you” was returned.
“Alright!” I sounded far too cheerful. “We are on our way!” Our spirits lifted, we were off to the lake.
Oh sure, it was pretty. All six miles around it. I knew she didn’t smoke, so I didn’t either. But after awhile, I just couldn’t stand it. I told her I was going to use the facilities, and I sat in the bathroom inhaling like it was going to save me and instantly take me back to the van without having to take another step. I sat and in the haze, thinking about how all was going. I wished I hadn’t said “facilities.” How dorky sounding. Nerdy or not, it mattered not. By the time the jaunt was over, I looked like hell.
I had blisters, my shirt was torn when I lost my footing and rolled down a rocky ravine, and I had a scrape on my legs that I felt needed some type of medical attention. We didn’t hike for a long time after that.
5/14, 7:58PM: Blog Entry 26
...and that is how we started. Thank you for the question Wendy. Good luck and don’t worry. They are your family. A)They proba
bly already know, (judging by the attached picture) and B) They will love you the same. I promise. (I hope)
We did start to see each other, and finally, she fell in love with me, as I had been in love with her from that very first day. It was a wonderful feeling. To have my heart pound almost outside my body every time I saw her. The way she would smile at my jokes. When she called me an artistic genius.
She told me she loved me first (very unlike me to be reserved with my statements), but I just would rather admire quietly than to scare her away. That was when I was certain that there was a heaven. How else would somebody like her ever fall for somebody like me. Certainly the novelty would wear off and she would be gone, back to the civilized world she spent her work week in. I waited for it, braced myself, gave pep-talks in the mirror about how I would get over it. But can you ever get over your first love? Hadn’t she already?
But she didn’t fall out of love. In fact, I moved in after about a year. I was grateful that being a couple didn’t seem to embarrass her. She never whispered it, or pushed my hand away in public. I felt like the queen of the Universe. Nothing would ever change this - not a chance.
5/26, 5:45PM: