Thursday
Oct142010

Another blog update

Having realized that her previous updates probably aren't accurate, Melina revised the Key to Characters page again.

Thursday
Oct142010

Blog update

Due to recent changes in personal relationships, Melina recently updated the Key to Characters page.

Wednesday
Oct132010

Motobabble

Anyone who owns a motorcycle knows that there's nothing worse than getting together with other bike owners. They will talk about their motorcycles for hours. This is known as motobabble.

I've just participated in a serious timewaster of a conversation with someone in IT. We discussed our bikes, where we like to ride, what mods we're doing next (I want some new rearsets), and apparel choices ad nauseum.

I'm just cheerful as Cycle Gear just called - my ankle boots have arrived. Huzzah!

 

Wednesday
Oct132010

uh-oh, part two

Anyone who happened upon my previous blog post probably assumed I would never see Ian again. But the truth is, as usual, stranger than fiction - not that I'm complaining, as you'll soon learn.

Ian came by my house unexpectedly Saturday afternoon with a SITREP. He was able to do this as his wife had departed for a week or so Up North.  Seems he had been able to convince the wife that a) we were just talking, and b) he would not call me any more. Not that he had any intentions of sticking to b).

This didn't mean we didn't have a conversation about his situation. Even though I may appear a dedicated homewrecker, I really don't want to make anyone unduly unhappy. This includes women I've never met.

And although I think adultery is a symptom that someone is gradually realizing that their matrimonial promises are near-unworkable in the long run, I prefer that others discover the realities of their domestic gulag on their own. I am only interested in offering sympathy, kindness, and passion: things that are sadly absent from most marriages.

But back to Ian and Saturday. We ended up sticking to our original plan, which was the SMU/Tulsa game. We had chosen seating on the visitors' side, since there was the possibility he'd be recognized by Highland Park lacrosse players had we sat on the home team side, and he discreetly held my hand. Then we walked back from the stadium to the complex of restaurants near the local rail station. The weather was perfect: cool and clear.

We went to the Irish pub. Ian is from good Celtic stock, thankfully. We shared a single drink at the bar, then found a dark corner and ordered dinner. But most of it ended up as dinner for Boris and my other porch cats as we ended up decamping to my place. Somewhere along the line, dinner ceased to be a priority.

I don't know why or what caused me to see Ian differently that evening. It was like he had finally discovered how to transfer his desire for me, to me. He even looked different; his eyes were bluer.

Even though I'd been waiting for this time - the right time - in hindsight, I wish it hadn't taken so long for things to ignite. He was thorough and slow and perceptive. He had some delightful lacrosse-related scars and rough builder's hands. He was even stronger than I'd initially observed (a while back he repaired my front door - solid oak - with no visible effort). At one point, he picked me up as if I were half my real weight.

We reconvened later in the weekend at his place, where he shed some of his initial caution.

More later.

Thursday
Oct072010

uh-oh

Today was another day with no work but no real worries, and more idyllic weather. I spent the morning cleaning house, then headed north to Cycle Gear to try to find some motorcycle boots.

It's been a problem finding any that fit me as I am plagued with long, skinny feet.  Few manufacturers  make women's motorcycle boots, and those that do usually make 1 style for every 20 men's styles. I was looking for some plain ankle boots for warm weather, but nothing was in stock. I ended up special ordering.

While in Cycle Gear, my cell phone rang. The caller ID said Private Caller; these irritate me, but since my number could be on a lost cat's ID tag, I had to answer. But there was nobody on the other end.

A few minutes later, Ian called.

"Did you get a blocked call a few minutes ago?" he said.

I said yes, but they hadn't said anything.

"I think that was my wife," he said.

It eventuated that it really was his wife.

Earlier today, she had taken a look at their cell phone bill and wondered who the hell Ian was calling so often. When he fessed up (sort of - I doubt he mentioned the flirtation factor), she promptly went jihad, and didn't believe that we hadn't been fucking our brains out the last few months. But then I suppose a couple of snog sessions combined with some coffee/lunch dates are equivalent to adultery, especially if you're Jimmy Carter.

I don't know what will happen now, and neither does Ian.  His only response was to repeat the verbal shrug-phrase "it is what it is", and that he would talk to me again when he could. I hope he won't be made to suffer unduly, but it seems marriage and suffering always go together, especially when the honeymoon is over.

The situation makes me feel really sad. All flirtation aside, Ian was genuinely helpful and sweet, and his sense of humor was beginning to charm me. He does a really good Jack Nicholson imitation.