FIRST DATE

Happy Monday - first one in April.  How was everyone's Easter?  I know those of you on the eastern end of this country are in for more snow today.  Actually, my friend in Denver said they were expecting more too.  April was always a snowy month in Denver and I do remember some cold Easter Sunday's when we had to wear boots over our new Easter shoes - especially when it is so early in the month like this year.  Do you know how Easter Sunday is determined?  This is a bit of trivia that has stuck with me.  Easter occurs on the first Sunday after the first full moon of the spring equinox - so March 31st was the full moon and voila.  It's not an April Fool joke, it's true.

I managed to squeak in some time this week to write a story.  It is in two parts so no conclusion today. The name of the male character is a name out of my past.  He was a big crush for me my first year in college and he eventually broke my heart.

Charlie Gentry was every woman’s dream.  At least it seemed that way when you were on the outside looking in.  He was more than handsome with his six-foot frame, strawberry blonde hair and smoldering green eyes.  He was charming and personable as proven by his many awards from the community in which he lived.  So why was he still available?  It was a question I asked my friend, Gwen when she tried to arrange a meeting between us.  She had no answer.

Gwen had been trying to fix me up for months.  When I moved south to Taylorsville to be closer to Gwen and her family, it seemed her mission in life to get me married. I liked being single and being my own boss - I had a great job that allowed me to telecommute, my own home and time with Gwen’s children satisfied my maternal instincts without the parental responsibility – I saw no need to change my lifestyle.   She pestered and harassed until one day when I saw a picture of Charlie Gentry in the paper, I told her if she could fix me up with him I wouldn’t say no. His picture appeared in the paper many times and that day there was his face again and the story about how he sponsored new uniforms for the local Pop Warner football team and I said yes.

Gwen was nothing, if not intrepid, and the following weekend I was faced with my saying yes to a fix-up with Mr. Charles Gentry. We were to meet for lunch at a local restaurant – daytime and plenty of people around  - it seemed fairly safe to me.  It was, except for the fact that my hormones were raging that day, I was practically gaga over Charlie Gentry before lunch was over.  I don’t remember a time when one man had such an effect on me.  I practically turned into a blathering idiot, hanging on his every word.  I don’t think I ate one thing because I kept staring into those bedazzling green eyes and oh so kissable mouth.  

Considering what a fool I had made of myself, I was quite surprised that he asked to see me again the following week. I immediately said yes and counted the hours and minutes until the following Saturday.  He hadn’t given me a clue as to what we were going to do, so I dressed casually in jeans and oatmeal colored cashmere sweater.  When I opened the door, there he was also dressed in jeans and oatmeal colored cashmere sweater – the only difference his was a turtleneck and mine just a crew neck to accommodate the scarf I planned on wearing.  We laughed together and I relaxed a bit.

 The relaxation didn’t last long. Once in the car and on the way to wherever he was taking me, I asked him to tell me about himself.

“I did that last week, remember?”  ‘No, I hadn’t remembered I was too busy drooling. Note to self must pay better attention.’  Barely recovering, I told him I meant to ask him about his week.  I listened and tried to glean answers to the question I really asked – had no desire to look like more of a fool. I gathered from what he told me, he was some sort of engineer. I asked what I thought were intelligent questions and finally was able to change the subject.

He’d asked me if I liked barbecue and when I said yes he told me he knew this great place.  The place was a shack in BFE – the tables were a mixture of new and old, mostly old and covered in butcher paper.  The chairs were a conglomeration of whatever anyone else had thrown away – at least that’s what it looked like to me.  The one I sat in was so rickety I was afraid to move for fear of it collapsing underneath me.  An old lady, bent and weathered, who greeted Charlie by name, came to take our drink order.  I made a snarky comment and Charlie shot me an unpleasant look.  When I made another comment when our only choice was either beer or sweet tea, he asked if I’d rather we left.  I sat back and closed my mouth after that.  The drinks were delivered but I never saw a menu or had anyone return to take an order.  I mentioned this fact to Charlie and he told me to be patient.    My patience was about up when out came a huge platter of brisket, pulled pork and chicken along with a bowl of collard greens and fried potatoes.

“It’s about time,” I said in a voice loud enough for the server to hear.  Another scowl from Charlie.

The food was beyond delicious.  I didn’t talk much because I was too busy stuffing my face.  When I couldn’t eat another bite, I pushed my plate away.

“What did you think?’ he asked. “Was it worth the drive and the wait?”

“You’re damn right it was worth both.”

“Was it worth getting your butt spanked for being a brat?”

“What?”

“Was it worth getting your butt spanked for being a brat, he repeated?”

I was speechless and this time it wasn’t because I was gazing at that beautiful face or kissable mouth, I was totally present at the moment and no words came to mind – only disbelief.

“Well,” he asked. “I’ve asked you twice and you’re haven’t answered.  That’s downright rude.”

“Sorry. Actually no I’m not sorry.  It’s not a question I’ve ever been asked so excuse me if I don’t have an answer.  Frankly, speaking of rude, I think the question is downright rude and it answers one of the questions I’ve had about you since the beginning.”

“Oh really, pray tell, and what is that?”

“Why you’re still available - because no woman, or at least none I know of, would put up with that abuse.”

“Hardly what could be called abuse,  it’s a spanking and how many women have you asked that question?  I don’t think it’s one that comes up sitting around while you’re gossiping about lord knows what.”

“You’re certainly right about the latter.”

“I take it the answer is no then.”

“You’re damn right the answer is no and I will pay for my own meal so you don’t have to feel obligated or left out because I didn’t take you up on your most generous offer.”

He laughed then.  “I get a lot of women to pay for their meal that way,” he said with a smirk.

“You’re despicable and if we weren’t out in the middle of podunkville I would see about getting a cab but,  since we are,  take me home.”

“Is that an order because I don’t respond to orders,” he told me.

“Neither do I.”  I grabbed for my phone to search for an Uber or Lyft to get me out of there.

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.