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“The competition starts at 9:00 am Saturday so yes," she wrote, "I’ll be there sometime Friday afternoon.”

“Have you made plane reservations yet?” I asked.

“No. I figured I have plenty of time, so thought I’d wait a while.”

Not quite sure what I was going to tell my girlfriend, “I think I’ll call as soon as we’re through talking, then for hotel reservations, too.”

“Okay, why don’t you make them, then maybe... Write back and I’ll see if I can land at about the same time so we can go to the hotel together.”

“Good idea. I’ll talk to you later, Barb.”

“Yes, Mitchie, I’m looking forward to meeting you.... Bye.”

“Bye, Barb.”

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Cyber Affair 2: Preparation

My girlfriend Helen and I have been together...

My girlfriend Helen and I have been very limitedly together for almost eight years and I’ve patiently... I’ve very patiently waited for her life to change so our lives can change; actually for ‘our’ life together to begin.  But that hasn’t happened, and this man that she lives with, this man that for the previous fourteen years had been her boyfriend, this man that had purposely changed from a productive, viable human-being to a fall-down drunk that, due to his alcohol induced progressive incapability’s, had begun to demand more and more of Helen’s attention, emotion and time, and she had, on countless  occasions – out of guilt for the years that I’ve waited and for keeping me home – Helen had told me  that I should get away on my own for a few days. So...

Emails going and coming...

“Barbara,” I wrote, “I’m set at the Allerton and I’ve made a reservation with “United” for the eighteenth leaving LAX at 8:45 AM that’ll get me into O’Hare at 2:10 Chicago time. Why don’t you see if we can coordinate.”

“Thanks, Mitch.” Barbara wrote back, “I’ll call the airline right now.”

Twenty minutes later my computer piped up with, “You have mail!”

“I have a “United flight out of Kennedy landing at O’Hare at 1:40,” she had written, “so I’ll wait for you, and if for some reason I’m not there, you wait for me. Okay?”

“Yeah, Barb, no problem with that,” I wrote back, “except I have no idea what you look like.”

Knowing they gave no clue as to how she actually looked now, “I sent you pictures,” she wrote.

“Oh, come on! Those are terrible and they could as well have been taken when you were fifteen.”

Truly one was taken when she was twelve and the other at age sixteen. “It’s okay, Mitchie, I know what you look like.”

True, I had forwarded three pictures of myself: one taken when I was twenty-two and two taken within the last three or four years.

Barbara, on the other hand, after telling me that she absolutely hates having pictures taken of herself, after much coaxing on my part, had recently attached two old pictures of herself: one very small, over exposed and the other out of focus, both of which she said were taken years ago.

For a fifty year old woman, what in the hell does “taken years ago” mean?

So why the reluctance in letting me know what she looks like, So what, I’ve thought since our online ‘attachment’ had begun, does Barbara really look like?  and the mental picture that I’ve conjured was not too flattering…

But “hope springs eternal”.

Strange, isn’t it? Falling in love with a lady that I’ve never actually seen.

Falling in love with a lady knowing that, at the most, this weekend will be all we’ll ever have. And, possibly misreading her intentions, not even knowing if this weekend will go, romantically/sexually, as I hoped.

And then again, depending on who or ‘what’ was going to meet me — As far as I knew, her reluctance to let me know what she presently looks like could mean that Barbara  might be an obese, three hundred pound mound of flesh — and if this were the case, knowing myself  —  remember I’ve said that I am a bit of a shallow male  — quite possibly upon seeing Barbara I might not want it to go anyplace beyond ‘plutonic’ which, though I would hate hurting her feelings, depending on how she envisioned this weekend, romantically/ sexually, might make for a rather strained seventy-two hours.

Optimistically hoping for the best though, today’s date being April 21, 2009, gave me two months to sharpen up…

So, wanting to shed at least twenty pounds, I went on an immediate crash diet.

And, okay, our ‘romantic/sexual’ weekend might be all wishful thinking  — if she’s not an obese three hundred pound mound of flesh —  but I’m an old guy and need ‘em, so, the first week in June I called Kaiser and ordered a fresh supply of both, “Cialis” — so, I’m ready, God willing, at any time  —  and 100 milligram “Viagra” as a back up.

Liking my hair a bit on the long side, but not wanting to appear shabby, thinking, so it won’t look too fresh, I also got a haircut during the last week of April.                                                           

On that same day, “Baby,” I said to Helen while on our evening dog walk, “I’m going kind of stir crazy.”

Having an idea what I meant, Helen looked at me.

“I’d love it if we could get away together...”

Said sadly, yet sternly, “You know I can’t now, Mitchell!”

“Yeah, I know...” Haltingly, hating to lie, “You mind if I take a weekend?”

“No, of course not! I’ve told you, I want you to... You thinking of driving to your brother’s?”

“No. I don’t want to drive to San Francisco and back. Actually, I just feel like laying around and doing nothing, so I’m thinking of Mexico.”

“A three day cruise?”

Knowing I’m triply safe here because, first of all she wouldn’t leave the drunk for a three day weekend, secondly, she does not like cruising and being born in Southern California and, having been there many times, Mexico is no big deal.

“Yeah, But I thought I’d to talk to you before I make a reservation.”

“It’s a good idea, Mitch.” Helen said sincerely, “I’m glad you’re going”

Feeling bad deceiving her, “It’s okay with you then? You’re sure?” I asked.

“Yes, of course! You know I want you to.”

To be continued

©February2- 2012 / Mark M Lichterman