Starting Line - Day 4
Jane returned, looking even better than before.
“I’m so sorry Dave. It was Frank telling me about another client party this Saturday. Now, what were you saying before I was so rudely to interrupt you? You were telling me about your Grandpa.”
She looked me directly in the eyes and smiled. I could have melted right there, and probably would have, except something outside the window caught my attention.
“That’s Bob. He works down on two. He runs 5 miles everyday.”
I had met Bob once, but didn’t recognize him in his running gear. Damn, he looked fit. The tight running outfit he had on seem to just flow around his body. Even the white head band almost looked ironed as it kept his groomed hair perfectly arranged.
“Nice looking guy,” I muttered.
“Yeah. Too bad he’s gay.”
I laughed, actually laughing way too hard to fit the level of humor. If I had been in a normal state of mind, I would have realized my laugh was based on a potential competitor being eliminated. Of course, I was no where near normal right then, so I just launched back into the story of my Grandpa. And Jane actually listened.
Thirty minutes later, after we had shifted through various topics, Jane pointed to the window.
“Looks like Bob made it back.”
I followed her slender hand as it pointed out the window.
There was Bob. His running suit, so fresh and sparkly before was completely drenched with sweat. His pressed head band was stained and down around his neck. His hair, so GQ before, was pointing in all directions. And his face, so chiseled before, was blotched and puffy.
It hit me right there and then – like a hammer swung at a rusty, old car. Bob looked great at the starting line. But here, only five years, I mean five miles later, he looked terrible.
I looked at Jane, looking as pretty now as when lunch began, and then down at the floor, truly thinking I might see a starting line. There wasn’t one there, of course, but actually it was there – I just couldn’t see it. But I could feel it.
Thinking quickly, I looked at watch and said, “Oh no, I’m late. I was suppose to be home at 2:00. My wife wanted me home to help pick out curtains for our bedroom. She is so sweet in that way. Most wives would just pick out whatever they liked and not care what their husband wanted. But not Mary. She cares about what I want.
“Lunch was really fun, Jane. Next time, lets invite Jerry and Jake. Sorry I have to leave so quickly.”
I threw down two twenties, which was more than enough to cover the lunches and tip and hustled out of the restaurant. I didn’t go back to the office, instead went directly to my car which was parked across the street. I called my boss from my cell phone and told her I was taking the afternoon off. The engine purred on the first try and I quickly entered the traffic heading home.
I should have felt bad about leaving Jane so quickly. And using some of the best guy-tricks so quickly. Best way to stop a relationship with a woman is to mention your wife (in a good way), your bedroom with your wife in it, and your home, again with your wife in it. I used all three. Plus I added that our next lunch should include other people. Message delivered and hopefully all previous messages cancelled.
It usually takes me 45 minutes to get home from work. But traffic was light this early in the afternoon and I drove pretty fast, so I made it in twenty-five. I started to call Mary and tell her I was coming home, but decided to surprise her.
I made one quick stop at the neighborhood grocery store and bought the first bunch of flowers I could find. I felt completely good about what had just happened. Guys deal with guilt quickly and I decided that if it took me being that close to the wrong line to get me back on the right path, that’s okay.
As I turned left onto our street, something was wrong. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I could feel it. I was three houses away from our house when I finally identified what was wrong. There was a car pulled around in back of the house. We have a rear entry garage, but I could still see the silver rear fender poke out the side of the house.
I drove slowly into the driveway and stopped, but left the car running and the transmission in drive. I knew what it had to be. I wasn’t the only one in the marriage that felt the need for outside entertainment. Obviously, I had stumbled upon Mary’s Jane.
The world stopped, just stopped, as I sat there – flowers on the passenger seat, tears flowing down my face.
-- continued –
“I’m so sorry Dave. It was Frank telling me about another client party this Saturday. Now, what were you saying before I was so rudely to interrupt you? You were telling me about your Grandpa.”
She looked me directly in the eyes and smiled. I could have melted right there, and probably would have, except something outside the window caught my attention.
“That’s Bob. He works down on two. He runs 5 miles everyday.”
I had met Bob once, but didn’t recognize him in his running gear. Damn, he looked fit. The tight running outfit he had on seem to just flow around his body. Even the white head band almost looked ironed as it kept his groomed hair perfectly arranged.
“Nice looking guy,” I muttered.
“Yeah. Too bad he’s gay.”
I laughed, actually laughing way too hard to fit the level of humor. If I had been in a normal state of mind, I would have realized my laugh was based on a potential competitor being eliminated. Of course, I was no where near normal right then, so I just launched back into the story of my Grandpa. And Jane actually listened.
Thirty minutes later, after we had shifted through various topics, Jane pointed to the window.
“Looks like Bob made it back.”
I followed her slender hand as it pointed out the window.
There was Bob. His running suit, so fresh and sparkly before was completely drenched with sweat. His pressed head band was stained and down around his neck. His hair, so GQ before, was pointing in all directions. And his face, so chiseled before, was blotched and puffy.
It hit me right there and then – like a hammer swung at a rusty, old car. Bob looked great at the starting line. But here, only five years, I mean five miles later, he looked terrible.
I looked at Jane, looking as pretty now as when lunch began, and then down at the floor, truly thinking I might see a starting line. There wasn’t one there, of course, but actually it was there – I just couldn’t see it. But I could feel it.
Thinking quickly, I looked at watch and said, “Oh no, I’m late. I was suppose to be home at 2:00. My wife wanted me home to help pick out curtains for our bedroom. She is so sweet in that way. Most wives would just pick out whatever they liked and not care what their husband wanted. But not Mary. She cares about what I want.
“Lunch was really fun, Jane. Next time, lets invite Jerry and Jake. Sorry I have to leave so quickly.”
I threw down two twenties, which was more than enough to cover the lunches and tip and hustled out of the restaurant. I didn’t go back to the office, instead went directly to my car which was parked across the street. I called my boss from my cell phone and told her I was taking the afternoon off. The engine purred on the first try and I quickly entered the traffic heading home.
I should have felt bad about leaving Jane so quickly. And using some of the best guy-tricks so quickly. Best way to stop a relationship with a woman is to mention your wife (in a good way), your bedroom with your wife in it, and your home, again with your wife in it. I used all three. Plus I added that our next lunch should include other people. Message delivered and hopefully all previous messages cancelled.
It usually takes me 45 minutes to get home from work. But traffic was light this early in the afternoon and I drove pretty fast, so I made it in twenty-five. I started to call Mary and tell her I was coming home, but decided to surprise her.
I made one quick stop at the neighborhood grocery store and bought the first bunch of flowers I could find. I felt completely good about what had just happened. Guys deal with guilt quickly and I decided that if it took me being that close to the wrong line to get me back on the right path, that’s okay.
As I turned left onto our street, something was wrong. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I could feel it. I was three houses away from our house when I finally identified what was wrong. There was a car pulled around in back of the house. We have a rear entry garage, but I could still see the silver rear fender poke out the side of the house.
I drove slowly into the driveway and stopped, but left the car running and the transmission in drive. I knew what it had to be. I wasn’t the only one in the marriage that felt the need for outside entertainment. Obviously, I had stumbled upon Mary’s Jane.
The world stopped, just stopped, as I sat there – flowers on the passenger seat, tears flowing down my face.
-- continued –
posted by Jimmie C. | 8:16 AM
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