How We Met

(Names have been changed to protect those I didn't ask prior to using them. Normally it wouldn't be a problem, but better be safe this way. I don't like lawsuits.)



She was a looker. Right from the Book Of Ralph I swear she was … lean legs, shaven, and a slight tan look to them. Well proportioned and toned, no sign of cellulite, dimples or crazy pores. Rounding up to the bottom of her shorts. Okay, ass is appearing firm in clothes, no obvious jiggle in the walk; not overly plump, but she does have hips so she’s a breeder. Straight back, nice long hair to the middle; posture is good, as is the side view of breasts. Yes, we are talking C’s or better, nice neckline, not showing any cleavage today, but that’s okay. Gorgeous face, nothing out of place or deformed. Yeah, she’s a 9 in the book. Wonder what she is doing here?

Here of course being the parking lot of the church my parents force me to attend. At 17, I had been “attending” since I was 15. I never cared or it, but hey had a pretty decent youth group, so I did a lot of the activities to get out of the homestead. This particular weekend, it was a trip to Casa Grande for an All-State Church of God Youth Volleyball tournament. Yee haw for sure. All I was certain about was I was out of the house for the whole day!

My buddy, George, nudges me. “See the new girl over there by Jennifer?”
“Of course. I have already checked her out. Who she with?”
“Jennifer. It’s here best friend from school. I guess her parents are out of town on a convention and she is staying with Jen until they get back.” He smiles at me. “So you know what that means?” The smile turns villainous.
“No. Why don’t you tell me?”
“You’re going to be around her a bit this weekend. Since Jen and I are going out, maybe you should be the good guy you are and help me get some time alone with Jen. You are my wingman, right?” That smile is getting more and more vicious looking.

I paused, and thought. George and I were same grade – different schools. We lived like 2 miles from each other and usually did a lot of hanging out together. We had hiked the Grand Canyon, rafted some rivers, and gone camping many times over the last couple summers. Recently he had started dating Jen, and I was usually a tag-along. ‘Well, she ain’t bad looking at all. What could it hurt?’

“Ok, G. I’ll try to help you out. But if she is a total brain dead, you are going to owe me.”

We mosey on over to the girls. The bus was getting ready to be loaded, and everyone was standing around. I put on my shades (80’s style Ray Bans knock-offs) and turned to the girls. We made brief introductions and I found out her name was Roseanne – Rose for short. Through info George had given me, we knew she was my age, and same grade. So here I was nervous for two reasons 1) she sure was pretty and 2) I wonder if she could hold a decent conversation about a normal topic.

The bus loaded up and Rose and I ended up sharing seats across from each other. George and Jen were seated behind Rose. I was my usual self as we rolled along the interstate. Cracking jokes, playing my radio/cassettes, being ‘cool’. There was quite a bit of ‘safe’ conversation going on between the four of us, and I learned she could hold a conversation, and actually had some of the same likes as I. It was turning into a not so bad thing to play wingman.

We arrived in Casa Grande, and ran a couple practice games before settling in to wait our turn. It came; we lost, and moved on to other things. We had a whole afternoon before heading home. George and Jen decided to disappear for lunch, so that left Rose and I looking for some common ground to talk about. Of course she shared she was with Jen for the week, which was spring break for them. There was a pause.

“Why don’t you take off your sunglasses?” she asked me.
“Because it is sunny out here.”
“ You have not taken them off since I met you this morning at the church. Not once. Not while playing or anything. I want to see your eyes.”

I am suddenly thinking, I got this girl liking me. This ain’t so bad after all! “ Nope. No can do. If I were to take them off, then you could see into my soul and that would just not suffice.”
“Why,” she smirks so nicely,” afraid I might see the REAL you?”
“Of course you would. Then I would probably have to do something evil like kill you so you don’t let anyone else know.”

She laughs and playfully reaches to take my sunglasses. I jump up and dodge away and we play this game for a bit. Then tiredly, sit back down and start discussing other topics. It was so easy talking to her, and her smiles were like day brighteners – another reason I kept the shades on.

Eventually, all things come to an end and we headed back to the bus. George and Jen had been looking for us for a couple hours, obviously not very hard. The girls sat together on the ride home, so George and I sat in the back.

“Get along ok?” he asks.
“Yeah pretty much. We got some things in common so it wasn’t too bad.”
“Cool. Jen and I are going to the movies this week.”
“And? So what?”
“Well, Rose is staying with Jen, and maybe you could ask Rose out to the movies with us.”
“I’ll ask to see if I can. You know how my parents are. I’ll call you.”

The next day was Sunday, so I got to see her again when she came with Jen. We didn’t get much time to talk, but I did get her phone number. Good thing I was attendance taker for class, and we always ask for the phone number of new persons to call and invite them back. Nothing was said about the movies, and she and Jen had to leave right after class.

Wednesday came around, and I got to see Rose again. This time she had driven herself and we were able to talk a bit after class. I mentioned the movie that George and Jen were going to the next night, and asked her if she would like to go. She agreed (with a pretty smile) and so we made plans for her to pick me up (as I had no car – thanks parents).

The next night was nice. We all met at the theater, and I paid for her ticket, but she refused to let me buy her snack food. “After all” she said, “this isn’t an actual date is it?”
I being shy said no of course not. The movie was “K-9” with Jim Belushi, and about ¾ of the way through, she held my hand. So much for it not being a date. After the movie, she dropped me off at home, and “Nice eyes. I finally got to see you without your dumb sunglasses.”

I had no idea when I would see her again.

Come Sunday, she was in class at our church. Seems her parents were back, and they let her decide which church she wanted to attend. Wednesday she was back again for class.
Both times we talked a bit, and she would sit with George and Jen in the row ahead of me (I always had to sit with my family). After that first week, I decided I would call her. What followed next is hard to remember, but I know we talked on the phone for an hour at a time, not saying a lot. We would meet at church and youth events. And by the end of summer we were dating.

Two years later, outside her college dorm, I proposed using my class ring until I got her an engagement ring. She said yes, and 7 months later we were married. That was just over 16 years ago from this date, and she hasn’t changed. She still has them sexy legs, firm ass, nice posture and pretty face. After four kids life hasn’t ravaged her, and at times she still turns to me and says,

“Take off them shades and let me see into your eyes.”

Them's two important things in my life ...

Many people around me – friends, co-workers, etc. – have been talking to me a lot in the last year. My wife has brought up the topic, and we have semi-seriously discussed it. I even almost called and got it. But I didn’t. Why? Because I am scared. Yeah, I know. It’s not that big a thing to get – but I am yellow-bellied when it comes to even thinking about it. Vasectomy.

I have four wonderful children that my wife and I are very happy to have brought into the world. Fortunately, between the two of us, we do live comfortably even with the costs so far in raising the kids. They have necessities they need and lots of extras, food, roof over their heads, clothing, etc, etc. Do I want more? I always answer with an emphatic “Hell no!” So why don’t I call the doc and have him do the snip-snip?

I get goose pimples just thinking about it. Snip. Snip. So … final. So easy and quick. Even sounds almost painless. And I have been assured it isn’t as painful as one would think. But each time I get serious about it, that thought runs through my head …

“d00d, that’s your balls they are cutting off.”

Remember when we were younger boys, I am thinking like 3-4 years of age, and the two most funniest things in the world were farts, and some unfortunate guy getting hit/kicked/damaged in the ‘nads. As we grew older, being like 1st grade for me, we actually made effort to get the other guy, before he got you. “What’s the capital of Thailand?” “Bangkok!” Whammy!!! We never heard about ruptures. We only knew it would hurt for a bit, and while you laid there groaning, holding your nuts, you did nothing but swore merciless revenge in the same kind of punishment to that guy that got you. And if you were the lucky one that got the other guy, you had like minutes of pure laughing freedom.

So now I am thinking, yeah, it’s not like getting hit there; they are not physically removing your testicles. It is simply a couple supply lines being cut and tied off to prevent them anxious and fertile soldiers from doing any possible adventures. Sounds like a good idea. What’s the pro’s about it?

- Don’t have to worry about safe sex to prevent pregnancy.
- It is not major surgery – usually out patient
- Insurance covers it
- Fairly painless procedure.

What are the con’s?
- No more children unless you adopt

So we see Pro’s outnumber the Con’s. But there are questions still – like, will I be like a dog and lose the urge to have sex? Not that I get it often as it is…. But still! Why do I have to do it? I know it is more of an operation for the wife to have it done, but why me?

I am going to have to do a lot more thinking about this thing. I know the Wife is going to be bringing it up in conversation soon. She usually does about every 3 months. I usually get her to drop the subject by saying one simple phrase….

“So if I ain’t gotta worry about getting you pregnant, then I could fuck around and not have to worry about that with any woman… hmmm, this is thinkable.”

Of course, she responds, “You do, you die.”

Yeah, gonna think about this one for awhile.

Typical Morning at my Home

I woke up. What for? Did I need to cough, or go pee? It's plenty dark yet, wonder what time it is.

I sit up on the edge of the bed, let out a little yawn and rub my hands across my face. 'Pee or what?' I ask myself. Hmmm, body heard - pee it is. I get up and stumble the few steps to the restroom doorway, flick out the hand along the wall for the light and wince as the single bulb comes on. Two steps forward - complete business - shake, shake. Turn around, be sure to get the light. Pause for the eyes to adjust and glance over towards the Wife's head for the clock. A nice bright 5:25 stares redly back at me. 'Sigh'. I sit back on the bed then decide it isn't worth sleeping over. I stretch out on my side and watch my wife.

She's so soft looking there in the early morning light that barely penetrates the drapes. Evidently she was warm and has kicked her blankets off, and I reach out gently to rub her leg softly.

" -neath the light of a neon moon. Ohhhhh if youuu looosee your one and only - " Damn! I can't reach the alarm. I let it play out at 3/4 volume for a minute, then reach over and nudge the Wife. A hand rises from the shadow of where she lays and flops on the snooze button. I know she has got 10 minutes until she gets up to make sure the daughter is up and getting ready for school. Which means I can nap for about 30 more before I take her to school.

I reach out again and softly rub my hand against her thigh. "Stop it." I freeze. I move my hand down towards her knee, and rub again. "I said stop it." Uh oh.

"Why hun? I just miss being able to cuddle with you, " which is technically true. I have been on the kids the past 4 nights about being in bed on time so Momma can come to bed. As it is, she doesn't come to bed until after I am asleep.

"You ain't wanting cuddling, and I want to rest as long as I can. You can't fool me with your ulterior motives." I glare at the lump on the other side of the bed. She has not once raised her face to the sky, or moved except the arm to shut the snooze. "If you're good, maybe tonight." What? A consolation prize? I don't need no steenkin' prize!

"Sorry, but by then that will be too late. Today is the last day of that sale down the street from work. You know, the one at Benji's Boob-a-rama ...." I let the voice fade and decide it is time to just be quiet.

A muffled sound. I swore it sounded at first like the first rumblings of a lioness' roar as it would build through the throat, but as you could tell, I hadn't watched enough of them nature shows to know better. "Ha. Ha. Do and die."

I rolled over to my back. Whatever happened to one of the most primal urges that help separate homo sapien from some of the lower class mammals? Has our generation just retarded those tendencies so that they are no longer necessary? I feel like I have lost part of actual being by not being able to get that growl -from-the-gut UGH! UGH!UGH every now and then! The feel of the fist as it pounds on chest of the muscular male!! Let that Bull Ape Yell ring free from the midst of your being - (insert favorite Tarzan yell)!!!

Aye, it has been thwarted; diverted; pushed to the wayside. And all she had to do was move one arm. Sigh. If I hurry, maybe I can still get 20 more minutes sleep. Then again, there's always a chance for tonight....

Library Card

Frankfort, Indiana boasts some older buildings in the “Courthouse Square” area. Many of the buildings are from the 1920’s or so, and some have been restored to keep that look. One such building located a couple blocks to the west of the courthouse, was the public library. This was a huge building on almost a complete block of land, and had lush green lawns with trees and benches scattered throughout. My 9th birthday was my first trip into the mysterious depths of this landmark. My Dad had given me an Adult library card, meaning complete access to everything available. For a 9 year old, it’s a ticket to the exotic world of adult literature.

My early visits consisted of shyly going up the huge curving stairway to the second floor, and veer right to the Juvenile book area. This was the best place for me to start, and I read plenty just sitting there in beanbags, or stretched out on the couch. Very rarely did anyone ever venture into my world in this section. Maybe once in a great while another youth (who surely did not have the Adult card) would come in and select a couple books then leave. The librarians would stop by once an hour to be sure I was fine, and if I needed any help. By four o’clock, I was usually ready to head home, and would take one or two books to check out for the next couple of days. Then I would be back, wondering about the Adult section.

I never was sure what the librarians would say if I were to just go straight to the adult areas. I imagined embarrassment if I were to be carded, or even rejected, and the card be taken away. Or worse, they compile a list of adult books I perused or checked-out and presented it to my Dad so he would be aware of the material I was reading. Would they monitor what I even looked up in the card catalog? What if they caught me with something “Mature” that kids shouldn’t be looking at? Would I be banned from the library? What would my Dad say? These worries clouded my mind every time I thought about using that access.

Finally the day came when I had no choice but to venture into the world of Adult Literature. I strolled into the library, nonchalantly was the best I could describe my steps. I placed the few books I had last checked out into the return bin, and took a quick glance around. I only saw the one librarian (there were usually two working at a time, and sometimes a third that was part-time) and she seemed busy checking in returns, or preparing to shelve books. Either way her attention seemed diverted. I walked on past her desk and headed immediately to the Fiction section. Paperbacks were there in front, where I could be seen from the desk, so I took my time appearing to browse through the selections, keeping a wary eye out for the librarian.

She glanced up in my direction. I froze. She got up and started walking over in my direction. What was I to do? I furtively looked for somewhere to run, but the only out I had was deeper into the library. I heard her steps across the tiled floor grow louder, then stop behind me. Here was the moment I had been dreading since I planned this venture.
“Is there anything I can help you find?” She asked me.

“No. I am just looking.” I replied, my voice cracking out of the dry throat.

“You usually read books on science fiction and fantasy in the juvenile section, don’t you?” Again with a question, and she remembered I regularly was upstairs. Was this a preparatory question prior to checking my library card?

“Yeah. But I have read most of what interests me there, so I came down here to find some more.” Geez! I sound like an idiot.

“Come over to this section,” she says as she turns and walks over a few rows of books. “This is the adult sci-fi area. These two shelving units listed alphabetically by author, and around on the other side you’ll find the paperbacks. Does that help?” A smile appears on her face as she folds her hands. I looked at her, and I swear I felt like I was being tested. Did I know the proper response to her encoded request for a pass phrase? Could it truly be this difficult?

“Yeah. I hadn’t gotten that far yet.” No shit, Sherlock. I think she knew how far you had gotten. You only have been in here five minutes. I stand there, waiting anxiously for he next step in this crazy dance.

“If you need any more help, you can ask me anytime.” Another smile. Then she turned and headed past me back to her desk. I followed her with my eyes, until I saw her sit down and once again started on whatever she had been doing. Wow! That was it!?! The Adult world was now mine to explore! Greedily I stepped over to the books and started browsing.

After several hours of browsing, and re-browsing, I had selected a few books. There are no comfy looking sitting arrangements in here though, just wooden tables and chairs. I head towards the stairway, when the other librarian appears heading towards me on the stairs.

“Finding ever thing okay?” What is up with the smiles?

“Yeah. I am just going upstairs for comfortable seating to read for awhile.” Quick, dodge the second attack!

“Okay. See you when you are ready to check-out.” She moves on past, and I run up the remaining steps.

Later that afternoon, I steadily walked to the check out counter and the librarian came over to stamp the cards and register my name. I casually handed over my card, the regular white one (no yellow for “kids only” books). She quickly checked out my selections, never once making a list of titles, or giving me any looks. I tossed them into the duffel bag and went out the door as fast as I could. I did it! Whoo! Adult books were now available to me!

Every trip I made back always had me downstairs in the adult areas. Be it Fiction, or sci-fi, westerns or whatever. The only time I got questioned was when I started reading Mack Bolan books, and that was eased over with a simple “Not as brutal as some of the westerns I have read”.
After a few years, I moved out of state, and gotten a library card elsewhere. Even when I took my daughter, years ago, to get her first card, they never once asked if she should have that access. But I remember this story every time I walk into a library, and always do a look around for a librarian, as she may prevent me from the Adult area.

Regular Day

The drinking had started early that day. By early, I meant when I awoke, mid-afternoon, fuzzy from the libations I had partaken of the night before. I tossed off the blanket haphazardly, barely registering the tinkling sound as the bottles on the coffee table fell against each other. It didn’t matter – they were empty. Hell, the way I felt nothing mattered. I stumbled to the bathroom to do the morning duties.

Within a matter of minutes, I was once again dressed to kill in the style if Me: T-shirt, denim shorts, Budweiser ball cap and sandals. Without this essential gear, I could not relax properly. I loaded the pockets with the usual small change, wallet, cell, keys, and lighter. The lighter was important. I had a bad habit of leaving them at the bar, causing me no end of fits when trying to smoke that last cigarette on the way home late at night. The other half of the time, I leave them in the car, so I know where they are, and the sun heats them up until they explode. I once actually saw the small fireball as I approached the car one summer day. I am surprised that the car has not caught fire yet.

‘What are the plans today?’ I ask myself. ‘Reading day or other? I think I’ll read today.’ I look out in the car to see if the current novel I am enjoying is still in there, or if I had taken it in. It’s there, cool. Nothing else to wait for, so I start down the road to Jimbo’s.

How do you define a good bar? I have spent years deciding what is most important to myself, and searching for the “perfect bar” which I know will never be found. Or worse, it will be found and going out of business/closed down/bought out the next day. I like the more “Little hole in the wall” places, where the crowd is usually gray/silver headed gentlemen, where the beer is priced decently, and they pour you a double when you order a shot. Where the bartender knows what everyone there drinks, and doesn’t have to ask. And most importantly, everyone leaves you alone unless you join their conversation. Perfect ambiance for reading the novel.

After a few hours (more like 6), a change in the bartender shift, two trips to the restroom, half a pack of cigarettes, and too many drinks later (I lost count around 8) it’s time to head out. I tab out, and go sit in the car wondering what am I doing now…. Home or another bar? Karaoke starts at 9 up the road…. But I am sort of tired. Home is straight down the road about 4 miles…. But this place is only a mile – just one mile – up the other road. New meaning to the phrase “Decisions, Decisions, Decisions”, eh?

Okay, home it is. I start the car and turn down the road towards the abode. I carefully thread the car into the drive, missing both the garbage can and the post for the carport. Shut down the engine, turn off the lights, and I sit there for a moment. Good night or bad night? Let’s see how fast I fall asleep and think about it in the morning. I get out of the car, stumble to the door, and enter the house. I lock the door and head to the couch, making a mental note to clean up the mess of bottles in the morning. I sort through the mess of empty Cheet-o’s bags, Jack Daniels bottles, ashtrays with the cigarette butts overflowing, and miscellaneous ashes that never made it to the ashtray. There it is, the fabled TV remote. Power is pressed and the large screen comes alive in bright colors on some infomercial for better abs by pretending to ski. Just four easy payments, and if you order now… Quickly I peruse through the available channels to discover there is nothing of interest with which to entertain myself. Off goes the television, and the overhead light. Damn! Will need to replace that bulb tomorrow. I lay back and light one up.

Inhale.

Exhale.

‘Yeah’, I say to myself. ‘Wasn’t a good day. Wasn’t a bad day. Just another day.’