November 06/2019
Early Winter Thoughts

First Date

Dear Morey,

Finally getting around to writing, and I know you heard about my situation so I wanted to clear the air before you chew my ass out again.
Yeah, I remember all the late nights, the scotch, the midnight swim in the Langford Hotel's pool when we swore all those bitter oaths to each other.
So what I'm asking is that you read my factual account before you make any judgement, ok?
Ok.
Here's how it went down:

Sylvia started to answer my question, then stopped and looked down at her napkin and made wet circles on it with the bottom of her glass. She sat kind of hunched up in the booth, leaning forward, auburn curls falling around her cheeks. She is drop-dead gorgeous, making it hard for me to concentrate. The clink of glasses and murmur of the Friday five-thirty crowd washed over us, broken by loud laughter at the bar, three guys jostling each other as they shared some joke. A cold, January breeze fanned our booth as someone held the front door of Harrigan's Pub open too long.

She looked up, her mouth pulled back a little, teeth clenched. "This is going to sound stupid, but it's the real reason-well one of them-that I met you here today."
I waited. While she hesitated, I took the last sip of my Glenfiddish and set my glass down.

She took a deep breath in and let it out through her nose. "Look, Mark, I came down here actually for two reasons; you are the only editor that doesn't yell profanity-including the F-word every day." She stopped.

"And the second reason?"

"Please don't laugh." Her lips tightened. "You are the only drunken man who didn't try to grope me when we kissed at the Christmas party."

I gave her a one-sided grin. "Maybe I wasn't drunk enough."

Her mouth eased back a little. "You were staggering and you almost fell over that little trash can."

"Yeah, I remember that damned can jumping out in front of me."

A small smile gave her dimples for a second and her shoulders came down. She tipped up her glass then held it tilted on the table and pulled out the slice of pineapple on a cocktail spear.

I leaned out of the booth, raised my hand and held up two fingers. Madge saw me from her station at the bar and waved. Two minutes later we had fresh drinks: A White Sangria with a pineapple slice for Sylvia, Glenfiddish on the rocks for me.

She twisted her glass and wiped the stem with her new napkin. "You know I do not date anyone from the office and I usually just have two max with the girls at the Lounge."
The Rodenburgh Lounge was in the ground floor of our building, Rodenburgh Publishing. Most of the female staff gathered there after work but very few of the men. The bartender was a self-declared homosexual and most of the men staff had an aversion of him touching their drink glasses or handling any additives. The Lounge was notorious for ladies after-hours office gossip.

I waited just a moment, then said; "I know that, and a little more."

"About me, like what?"

"You are recently divorced, no children, worked for Forester Publishing but so did-still does- your ex so you left and came over to Rodenburgh." I took a sip. "Not only do you not date Roddy guys, you don't date, period."

She leaned back a little. "What else, Mr. Swami?"

"You drive a new Volvo, buy most of your clothes at Menard's and Macy's."

Her eyes widened. "How did you know that?"

I leaned forward. "Because my ex bought all her clothes there, too, and I recognize the styles."

She looked at me for a moment, took a drink, then made more wet circles.
"What else about me?"

I took a drink and held on to my glass. "Now you're going to make me get into trouble."

"Maybe, I just want to hear it."

"To see if I'm right?"

"Kind of."

"Ok, here are my thoughts:
Number One, you are very cautious about all men, after just going through a nasty divorce.
Number Two, you see how the talk about all the "Office Affairs" gets around and you want to maintain your "Business Only" reputation.
Number Three, you are going to be very picky about anyone you get involve with, because of Number One and Two." I paused, then said, "You are an unpublished fiction author like me."

"Right, unpublished."
I could feel the glow from my second scotch and could see Sylvia's eyes change as she was half way through her second Sangria. On instinct I raised my hand again.

Madge was prompt. I took damn good care of her with large tips and it paid off.
Sylvia finished her drink as Madge was setting our glasses down so I polished off the scotch. What the hell, we could take cabs home, a couple hung out just down the street from Harrigan's making fares off people like us who stayed too long.

Sylvia twirled her glass around, pulled the spear up and took a bite of pineapple.
Her eyes lit up and she lifted her head and smiled. "Is that all about me?"

"No. I know Shirley Thomas must have told you about me-"

"She said you are a conceited flirt, just out for a one night stand."

"And?"

"You are a sex fiend who has tried to date and seduce every girl at the office, even married ladies." Sylvia's smile widened. "You have no morals, divorced and do not ever want to marry again, and you are a cheapskate."

I laughed. "I plead guilty to all of the above, except for being a cheapskate."

She laughed, one "Ha, why not?"

"I took Shirley on an "all expenses paid" vacation to Cancun, made her car payment one month when she blew all her money in Vegas, and bought her that pearl necklace she doesn't wear anymore."

"Wow."

"We broke up when she went back to her ex for six months and then wanted to resume when that didn't work out."

"Quite a different story from you."

"Yes, and so who are you going to believe--and that reminds me, you are being invited to join the Yolo Solo Girls Party, don't go unless you want to be hit on by the girls."

"What?"

"Yolo Girls is a lesbian association. They hit on young divorcées, hoping that they are lonely enough, desperate enough, horny enough to make the change."

"Oh, are you sure?"

"Yes. Robbie Collins, who invited you, was rolled over about a year ago."

"Rolled over?"

"Actually, raped and cuddled, brain washed against men and is now a recruiter for Yolo."

"Shit."
"Ah, finally you are becoming less Miss Business, more human."

"Excuse me, but I was supposed to go over there tomorrow night."

"Still going?"

"Not only no, but hell no!"

"Great. Would you let me buy us dinner next door at Logan's?"

She looked down at the table, then directly into my eyes. "All right, but I'm not going home with you, Mark."

"I wouldn't want you to, we don't know each other that well yet."

The Porter House steaks were done perfectly, medium rare for hers and blood rare for mine. We shared a bottle of Australian Merlot over the steaks, overstuffed baked potatoes and tender asparagus tips. Desert was a raspberry sorbet, "Just the right touch!" Sylvia said.

In the cab in front of Sylvia's apartment, she opened the cab door, then turned back. "Please don't kiss me, I am very happy right now after a perfect evening, and I thank you!" She started to scoot out, then turned back again and said, "Oh shit!" She kissed me hard. "Pay the cabby while I find my keys."

The cabby was grinning and shaking his head as I handed him a large tip through his window.

I can't talk about the rapture of that night, except to say that now, a year later, the bright glow is still there. I got past the Writers Block and my first novel is being published at-no lees than Rodenburgh!

So yeah, I broke my promise you-and myself-and I am the proverbial "Happy as a Clam."

Hey Buddy, forgive, forget, and come to see in September, Sylvia is due 9-11, no reflection or foreboding on the date. A boy, probably eight pounds, named after you, Buddy!
Mark