Well, I told you I’d relate my adventures in Bachelorhood if I had any. So, in service to that promise, I shall tell you that I got to spend time with an attractive woman on Monday. It wasn’t a date or anything because this particular “attractive woman” is much too young for me — but I did get out of the house, which is good. Does it qualify as an adventure? Well, let me set it down for you, just as it happened. You tell me if it’s an adventure.
Obviously, I’m not going to give you her name. Hell, I’m not even giving you my name! So, I’ll invent a name — a really, really hot name and pretend it’s her name. Sound OK to you?
So, let me tell you about this girl named Agnes…
Agnes started to drift onto the scene way back when my ex was in the middle of it. Actually, my ex met Agnes before I did. They had a business project to work on together and, well, Agnes kept coming around the house and every time she did I had to ask my ex to introduce us because I kept forgetting her name.
For some reason, though, Agnes didn’t seem to have any trouble remembering mine,.
Anyway, by the time I’d received a few months of these “introductions”, Agnes and my ex were chummy enough with each other that they started sharing their intimate personal struggles. These struggles — and it’s not like a was eavesdropping. I was in the other room, for heaven’s sake, and they both were speaking loudly — mostly revolved around Agnes griping to my ex about what a total jerk her boyfriend was.
My ex considered herself an expert on “jerk boyfriends” so she had plenty to say to Agnes. Mostly, she shared the “true life experiences” of being my wife. (I’m sure she would have been disappointed if I weren’t listening). The more my ex talked, it seemed, the better Agnes felt about her boyfriend.
One evening Agnes came over to the house while my wife was out. “Wasn’t tonight the night we were supposed to get together?”, “Sorry, she’s out.”, “Musta got the date wrong.” Blah Blah Blah.
Agnes asked if she could come in and retrieve some papers, or a book, or maybe she left her jacket. I forget. She wasn’t too fast about looking for it, though, seeing as she spent a lot of time complimenting me on the sweater I was wearing, and telling me that my job sounds really interesting, and what was I drinking.” Blah Blah Blah.
“I’ll get you something if you’re thirsty.” Actually, I was feeling that I had no choice but to offer her a drink. “Do you like Coke?”
“Yeah. Coke is great. I love Coke. Say, do you ever put a little rum in your Coke? Makes it kind of special, I think.”
Simple answer to her question is that I never add “a little rum” to my Coke, but for some reason I did that night and I added rum to her Coke as well and then she asked me more questions about my work and I answered her questions and about an hour later she left. Poor girl! She forgot the papers she came in to get.
So, enough about that. Let’s talk about smoking.
When we were first dating, my ex told me she had “no problem” with my smoking. But not in the house. And not in the car. And, “just to make it easy on both of us, why don’t you do your smoking while we’re apart”? It was like that. Would I have preferred being with a smoker? Sure, but my ex never took me up on my repeated suggestion that she give it a try, “just to see if you like it” and we were finding more and more things we have in common and no couple agree on everything and, sure, she thought it would be a great idea if we got married.
“Just one little thing, hon, you’ll stop smoking. For me.”
And, from the time we became engaged, I never asked her to release me from my promise — and I never got around to asking her whether she noticed I wasn’t actually keeping my promise. The topic was not up for discussion; and that, right there, is good advice from the marriage guru about how to make things fit when they just don’t fit.
You might think I’ll have some bad stuff to say about my ex but the truth of the matter is that she was a little firecracker in the bedroom. She was enthusiastic and available and liked to tell me I was the sexiest guy in the world and wouldn’t you think my sex life was perfect? and it was, except I could never get myself to get worked up without fantasizing that my ex was smoking cigarettes with me. Really. I had this pretend world I had to go to in order to get cranked up for a woman who was doing everything she could to crank me up. Weird huh? I had the perfect sex life but I was never satisfied.
Well, when we were together I had nothing to complain about but for the fact that my appreciation for smoking makes me think there’s something missing in sex if cigarettes aren’t involved.
One thing I can tell you is that Agnes didn’t smoke. I notice that in a woman. Doesn’t matter if she’s attractive or plain, if she’s married or single, if she’s too old for me or too young; if she smokes I notice, and if she doesn’t smoke I notice that too. My ex didn’t smoke and neither did Agnes — and as far as either of them was saying I didn’t smoke either.
Time passes. Little by little, my ex slips out of center stage; but even as she does, Agnes remains in the picture. I guess Agnes really needed to talk about what a jerk her boyfriend was because she started telling me the stories she used to tell my ex. Meantime, it became increasingly obvious to me that my ex wasn’t coming back and that I wasn’t getting out and that I was eventually going to have to come up with some sort of strategy for finding female companionship and … crap! … I certainly didn’t want to create an on-line dating profile.
Eventually it occurs to me that, after so many years married, I’d need practice before I could go out again. And then I start to think maybe I could find a “practice date” to practice dating on, and as I’m working all that out in my mind Agnes tells me she’s worried I’ll stop eating now that I had no wife to feed me and she knew this great restaurant near her house and blah blah blah. Then, suddenly, I got a really great idea. Agnes could be my practice date!
So, I agree to let her show me the “great restaurant” and we figure out a day that’s good for both of us and, then when the day came around and I spent that morning wondering what I’d have to talk about with a girl half my age and I had a smoke out on the bench in the park which got me thinking that, after I got through practicing on Agnes, I really I ought to scout around and look for a smoker to practice dating with.
So, the time comes around and I get to the restaurant first and hang out until Agnes shows up, and when she does I do the gentlemanly thing and tell her she looks nice and — Damn! — she does look nice. Then she surprises me and gives me a big hug and I notice she smells pretty nice too and then I look at her again and wonder why I’m just now realizing how perky and firm her tits are and how they remind me of my ex’s tits or, more precisely, the tits my ex had twenty five years ago.
We get to our table and we talk for a while and when the waitress comes around we realize we hadn’t opened our menus so we ask her to come back later and then we get to talking some more and the whole evening goes like this — an hour goes by and we’re still eating and talking and another hour goes by and we’re done eating but we’re still talking and for the life of me I can’t see how the conversation is going as well as it is because I didn’t expect I’d have anything to say to such a young girl and I certainly didn’t expect to be out this late and by the time I get the check I’m chuckling to myself because if I were still with my ex we’d already be in bed and then Agnes asks me if I’d ever been to such and such bar that’s really small but they have no cover and there’s this really funky blues band that plays on Mondays…
… and then we’re at the bar and the music really is good and after a while Agnes tells me she has to “go outside for a little while” and when she comes back she gets right up into my face to talk to me because the music is loud and I’m thinking that I’m liking the way her breath smells and then a little more time goes by and she has to “go outside for a little while” again and I’m thinking, “Agnes is smoking a cigarette” and I say something to her when she comes back and she laughs and says, “the secret is out!”
By now it really is late and I’m sleepy and I’ve been drinking and I tell her I’ve got to go and she says she’ll walk me out and — did I tell you I’d been drinking? — I tell her I’m a “secret smoker” too and maybe we could get coffee some morning and go out and smoke cigarettes together.
And that was four days ago and for four days I’ve been thinking about how much fun I’d have lighting a cigarette for Agnes and wondering why I’m starting to obsess about this woman who’s way too young for me…