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My Date With The Cable Lady

 

 

The cable company made an appointment for that week to send a representative out to my condo to sign the papers for cable service. So I was not surprised when the security intercom rang and the voice announced itself as being from the cable company. What did surprise me was the very feminine sound of that voice.

We sat at my glass kitchen table. She was going through the cable channel options. I was thinking about what an interesting situation this was. She was good looking and well spoken. Tall-ish, long blonde hair pulled into a bun. Early thirties. Couldn’t see what kind of body she had past the heavy cable turtleneck sweater, but it seemed to be slender. And full. Long neck. I wondered what her story was that she would go into strange guys’ apartments like this every night.

Without thinking about my motivations, or hers, and fresh from my successful contact with Trish, I asked, “Would you like to go see a show with me this weekend?” Sometimes I surprise myself. Like what I just did. I wouldn’t blame her if she just stood up and walked out of my condo. Or maybe stood up and slapped me and walked out of my condo. But inside I was feeling like a little kid with a new toy. Not that I would know what to do with this toy, but the answer would be “nothing” if I didn’t try.

She stopped in the middle of the form she was filling out and looked at me. Piercing blue eyes. A faint smile at the corners of her mouth as she tried to figure out whether this was a good idea or not. I could only grin. A huge naive grin that I was sure was a giveaway that I was a sicko pervert. But I couldn’t control it.

“OK. Call me tomorrow after noontime.” She turned back to the forms, writing her home number on the top. “Now, do you want the Sports Channel?”

Why did I pick the Christmas sing-along? I thought as we walked into the Shubert Theater.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

She was a good sport, but neither of us did much singing. At intermission, we went out and walked four or five New Haven blocks, smoking half a dozen cigarettes apiece. When her coat was opened, I could see that she was not hiding her good form tonight. I was feeling confusion. I was at a place that was not interesting to either of us. With a person that surely I was not allowed to be with. And I had no idea where I was driving this bus.

And I was happy.

We went back into the Christmas performance. Later I could not remember if we talked about anything at all. I did hold her arm as we walked. It felt good but illegal.

I glanced at the faces of passersby to see if someone was noticing that I was, or had recently been, a married man.

I drove her back home in my minivan (not a “player’s vehicle” she told me), to her house in Belmont that she shared with a roommate named “Pink.” Pink worked nights, but that’s all the details I was going to get. She had cats, and a house full of overstuffed furniture. As she gave me the tour of the house, and we wound up in the bedroom, I wondered why a beautiful woman would show a man she barely knew into her bedroom.

The amusing part was, I really did not understand. I was too busy noticing that we both had the same model of GE alarm clock on our respective nightstands to consciously think about the possibilities right there at my fingertips. I still do not know to this day if I would have done that one differently.

We talked awhile in the living room. She had no sibs, and her folks were still in Sweden. She was 33 and had been here for 5 years. No college, but she spoke well. Unable to go forward tonight, I knew I could only leave. As I got up, I felt a conscious, overwhelming sadness at not being physically close to anyone for a very long time.

Without any shame, I hung my head and I pathetically asked her for a hug, which she freely gave in full measure, pressing her tall body against all of me, thighs, hips, full boobs, and she rested her mouth in my neck, below my ear. She held me, maybe she felt sorry for me.

Then, not knowing what to do, I turned and left. I think “pathetic” is one of the steps to happiness.

We saw each other once more. I tried to call her several times in the next few weeks. She answered sometimes, and we talked briefly. I knew it was probably a lost cause. I was beginning to feel the depths of my inability to function in a normal setting. I felt uninteresting and unable to carry on a conversation.

The one good thing was that I did feel like I was moving, trying to learn. There was forward motion.

That was about the time I started dedicating more time to online dating, and I got introduced to “Parents Without Partners.” Each one was a portal to new experiences.

 

William Kenly

from “The Dogs of Divorce”

 

 

 

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Originally posted 2013-08-29 15:28:15. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

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