A Tale of Two Loves Pt. 01

"Well, Matt, I'll say goodnight...And we have to stop meeting like this," she joked.

"You're right about that. By the way, here's my number," I said as I handed her a card. "If you ever have occasion to be rescued again, I'm your guy."

She laughed, took the card, and after we arranged for me to reimburse her, we said our goodnights and each headed home. I immediately jumped in the shower to clean up. I threw my bloody and torn shirt away; and as I hadn't had dinner, I ate a late-night snack - a bag of chocolate donuts, which I washed down with a quart of milk; then I hit the sack.

III. TRISH - A NEW FRIEND

A couple weeks later, I stopped in at my pub for a cold one (I was welcome; the staff had no beef with me. They never filed charges against me or Sully, and the drunk and disorderly was dismissed in due course). I got a seat at the bar, and as I was about half way through my first beer, a man and woman, two stools down, got kind of loud, having a tiff. Shortly, the man stormed out. The woman shook her head and knocked back her drink. We made eye contact.

"My ex. He's not happy with the terms of our impending divorce settlement."

"They rarely are," I replied.

"Speaking from experience?"

"Not exactly. Both my divorces were pretty amicable, but I've seen some nasty ones."

"You were married more than once."

"Yep, long story."

I looked the woman over as we chatted. She was attractive - long, brown hair, brown eyes, a pretty face, and appeared to have a very nice figure.

"I see your drink's empty. Can I offer you a refill," I ventured.

She smiled, "Sure, if you're not married. That's why we're getting divorced. My husband strayed."

"Gotcha; sorry to hear that. And no, I'm not married."

"Okay," she answered and scooted down to join me, "Gin and tonic."

I ordered her drink and got another beer.

"I'm Trish."

"Matt; happy to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise. Thanks for the drink. I don't like drinking alone. This is a first for me."

"Yeah, I haven't seen you in here before," I said, to make conversation.

"Never been. In fact, I've never been to a bar by myself. I just stopped here with my friend from work to decompress, but she had to leave. It's been a long week. My husband, ex-husband to be, and I work at the same business, and it's been pretty tense."

"I can imagine. So, you said your husband 'strayed'. I'm surprised. You seem like a nice person, and you're quite attractive," I continued, being polite, and sincere. She did seem nice; and she was certainly not hard on the eyes.

"Oh, but he did," she sighed, "and thank you. Yes, and he went younger, quite a bit younger. And the kicker is, she's very pretty. I feel like an old maid, now, yesterday's leftovers."

"Trish, you're anything but. And you look young, yourself. How young could he have gone?"

"She's twenty-six!"

"Well, I can't imagine you're much older than that - thirtyish at most."

"That's sweet, Matt. It is Matt, right?" I nodded and she continued, "But I'm almost 40 and have a 20-year-old son in college."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Yeah, me too," she laughed, "but I am, and I do. I'm dreading getting older and being single. I can't compete with all those young beauties out there."

"In my opinion, you have nothing to worry about."

We chatted over a couple more drinks, then Trish said she was going to call it a night and catch a cab.

I asked, "Oh, you don't have your car here?"

"No, I came here with my rideshare, Charlotte, but she left early - babysitter problem. Then my husband called and wanted to 'talk', which meant bitch...and you know the rest."

"Well, Trish, it was nice meeting you, and not being forward, but I could give you a ride home...no funny business."

"Mmm, well, that's a nice offer, Matt. And you seem very nice, but..."

"Jim here can vouch for me. I'm no axe murderer."

Jim, the bartender, overhead me, "Yeah, he's okay...when he's not punching people out and tearing the place up."

I shook my head, "I didn't tear the place up, and that only happened once...at least here."

Trish laughed, "Well, okay. Sure; I appreciate it."

I escorted her to my car, helped her get seated, then put my top up.

"Nice car," she commented when I got in.

"Thanks."

"If you were older, I'd say it was a substitute for...well you know."

"Ouch?"

"I'm sorry, just kidding, and I did say 'if' you were older. So, how old are you?"

"I'm forty, and don't say I look younger; I know better. And don't say I look older, or you'll hurt my feelings," I kidded.

"No, you look good for your age - pretty strong, pretty fit."

"Thanks. I try to keep in shape - eating and drinking habits to the contrary."

She laughed, and as I got up to speed, we quieted down as the noise level in the car increased.

We pulled into her subdivision in the southeast part of town, and I pulled up in front of her house, a nice-looking, moderately upscale, tract home. I got out to head around the car.

"I got it," she said.

"Handle doesn't work on the inside," I replied, opened the door and helped her out.

"Thank you. It was nice to meet you, and I would invite you in for coffee, but..." she hesitated.

I guided her to her front door, then offered her my hand and we shook, "No worries; you don't know me. Don't give it a thought. Pleasure meeting and chatting with you, Trish," I replied as I headed back to get in my car.

When I opened my door, I noticed she was still standing at her front door, "Everything okay?"

"Oh, yes. I um...I guess I'm being silly. I'm sorry, but if you would like to come in for coffee, I was enjoying your company."

"Sure, I would like that," I replied, and headed back.

Her home was nicely appointed, with a feminine touch, but not overdone. I followed her into the kitchen, where she got her Keurig fired up. While we waited, we chatted some more.

"So, you said that you were married more than once, but that it was a long story?" Trish started.

"Yeah, twice - my first marriage, we met in college and got married 'in a fever' as they say. Within a year we realized we had made a mistake. We really didn't get along all that well. The sex was great; we'd fight, have sex, fight...You get the idea. My second wife was a different story. We were in love, got along okay, but didn't share a lot in common - she had her circle of friends, her activities, her likes and dislikes; and I had mine. In the end, love wasn't strong enough to overcome our differences and we called it quits after six years."

"No children?"

"Nope. Never got to the point of considering parenthood in either relationship."

"How long have you been single?" she asked.

"About seven years now."

"That's a long time. Are you soured on marriage?"

"No, not at all. I just haven't met the right woman, and I'm determined not to make the mistakes I made in the past. The last time was too painful. Besides, I'm having a hard time finding a woman who will put up with me."

She laughed, "I don't believe that, unless you're hiding your true self."

"Well, I try not to show the whole me all at once. That can be off-putting for some ladies."

We chatted a little more, then I took the opportunity to say goodnight before I felt like I was overstaying my welcome.

"Well, I'm going to call it a night, Trish. It's been a pleasure meeting and chatting with you." I handed her my card, "Here's my number. Call me if you ever feel like it. And I think your husband is a fool."

We walked to the door and she saw me out.

"Goodnight, Matt. Thank you for the ride...and for being a gentleman."

"You're welcome. Thanks for the coffee and the conversation."

When I got home, I felt a little melancholy. I'm used to and comfortable with being alone. But I do miss having female company. For the last few months, other than a couple one-night stands, I haven't had a woman in my life - been going through a dry spell; and before that, my last involvement with the opposite sex consisted of a failed, short-term relationship. Visiting with Trish had been enjoyable, and reminded me of what my life was lacking.

IV. ANGIE - A FRIEND IN NEED

Tuesday of the next week, around nine p.m., I got a call from Angie.

"Hi Angie, how are you?"

"Hi Matt, I'm fine. Well, not fine, actually. I'm broke down on the interstate. My car overheated; there's steam coming out from under the hood."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at exit 167, headed towards town. I'm parked on the off ramp."

"Okay, it will take me about...thirty minutes to get there, maybe less. I'll call my auto club and get a tow coming. Stay in your car with the doors locked, and your flashers on."

"Thanks. I'm sorry to call so late, but I'm new here and don't know anybody else..."

"Angie, no worries. I dragged you out at midnight, remember. Just hang tight."

I immediately jumped in the car and headed down to the interstate, then turned west towards the city and exited at 167, immediately spotting Angie's car on the shoulder of the off ramp. When I arrived, I grabbed a flashlight, went up to Angie's window and let her know it was me.

"Thank goodness you're here. I was getting worried."

"Sorry, I live out a ways. Pop the hood and I'll have a look."

I couldn't find any leaks - the hoses looked good and I couldn't see anything at the radiator. I figured a bad radiator cap or water pump. Everything was dry at this point so it was hard to tell.

Angie asked about the cost of the tow and what I thought the repairs were going to cost.

"The tow is free, and the repairs can be from a few dollars to several hundred depending on what it is. My shop will take good care of you and they won't cheat you."

The tow truck arrived shortly, and I directed him to take the car to my preferred garage, then called my personal mechanic - I have his cell. He's been working on my car for years, and we have a pretty good relationship (If you have a 1961 C-1 Corvette, you better have a good relationship with a mechanic). He said he'd meet the tow truck driver and secure Angie's car for the night. I had him and the driver exchange phone numbers, and gave Johnny the phone number for Angie and vice versa. Then I took her home.

She lives in an older part of town, in a neighborhood featuring older, craftsman-style houses. While the small house we pulled up to was fairly old, it was in good repair with a small, well-maintained yard. Angie invited me in, and I readily accepted.

"Would you like something to drink? I was going to have a hot tea, but I have coffee, some sodas..."

"Tea is fine."

"Well, give me a minute, I've been holding it a while and have to use the bathroom."

"I can make the tea if you show me where the stuff is."

"It's looseleaf..."

"I can handle that. Strong, weak, or in the middle?"

"I usually make it strong," she answered as she showed me where things were.

I got the waterpot going and the diffuser loaded. While I waited, I looked around the small place, went to the back, flipped the outside light on and looked at the rear yard. It was surprisingly deep with a few shrubs along the fence lines and a large oak at the back with a small table and two chairs under it.

I killed the light and returned to the kitchen. After the waterpot came to a boil, I poured the water in the teapot and let it steep. When Angie returned, she had obviously freshened up, and had brushed her long blond hair out - she looked lovely. She was almost as tall as me, even in the running shoes she was wearing.

"Thank you, I've got it. Go ahead and have a seat," she offered, and poured our teas.

After she sat and took a sip, she commented that it was perfect.

"I have skills," I replied.

She laughed, "You mean besides bashing people?"

"Why is everybody always saying that. I hardly ever bash anyone."

She laughed again, "Hardly ever?"

"Well, except for supermarkets and bars, I rarely do."

We settled in, enjoyed our tea and pleasant conversation. Angie was sweet and engaging, with a great sense of humor, not to mention quite good-looking. I liked her and was more than a little attracted to her.

"So, your card says you're a venture capital investor. That's a pretty risky occupation, isn't it?"

"Yes it is, but if you perform your due diligence and stick to an intelligent, calculated investment strategy, you can do quite well," I explained.

"What little I know; it takes a lot of capital to do that. So you have a lot of money?" she asked, quite directly.

"Enough, why? You looking for a rich husband?"

She laughed, "No, I'm not a gold digger, if that's what you're asking. I just wouldn't have figured you for having that kind of money."

"Not a beer-swilling thug like me who gets in fights?"

"No. That's not what I meant at all," she quickly replied, a touch defensively.

"Sorry, I was just kidding," I corrected.

"No, what I meant was, you're very unpretentious, down to earth. The kind of people I've known with that kind of money, were usually pretty arrogant, or at least, a little aloof, self-important."

"Well, my parents were work-a-day folks and I grew up appreciating every little penny, and learning to value people for their character, not their money. All of that kind of stuck."

Angie surprised me, placing her hand on mine, "You're a decent man, Matt, rescuer of damsels, basher of bullies."

"I'll have to add those to my business card."

She laughed then remarked, "You have big hands."

"Yeah and big feet, too." I stuck a foot out.

"Yes you do, and you know what they say..."

"Yeah, but don't believe everything you hear," I replied.

She grinned, "Being modest?"

"No, I don't have that particular failing."

We finished our teas, I thanked her, and said goodnight.

"Thank you, for again rescuing me. I guess now I owe you a favor all over again," she remarked as we reached the door.

"Okay, let me take you to dinner," I floated.

"How would that be me doing you a favor?"

"Hmm, you're right. Then you take me to dinner."

"Are you asking me on a date, Matt?"

"Sure."

"Well, I accept, but we're agreed, my treat. You can choose where and when. Oh, actually it needs to be a Saturday. My weeks are pretty slammed right now; and Friday nights I'm bushed."

"Well then, how about steak, and this Saturday, say I pick you up at six?"

She smiled and shook my hand, "Sounds like a plan...and a date."

I headed home, pretty much on cloud nine.

V. RAINING WOMEN

Two days later, on Thursday, I got a call from a number I didn't recognize. I don't get that many calls, and most the ones I get are spammers - I answer all of them. I love to screw with them. I keep them on the line for an interminable amount of time, showing interest, asking a bunch of inane questions; then I tell them I'm on welfare, or that their cause or their product sucks and hang up. Anyway, I answered the call.

"Hello, what are you selling?"

There was a pause, then, "Oh, um, well, I guess I'm selling myself," a woman's voice answered.

"Okay, how fat are you and how many moles do you have on your body?"

"So if I'm fat and have moles all over my body, you're not interested?"

"Oh, no, I'm interested. I just want to know how dark of glasses to wear."

"You're terrible. This is Trish, from the bar."

"Hi Trish. Sorry, thought you were a spammer."

"So you think I'm fat?" she asked, playfully.

"Oh, not that fat," I kidded. "What's up; how are you?"

"I'm fine. And I was calling because...well...I...wanted to see if you wanted to get together," she said in a rush after faltering.

"I'd love too."

"Oh, um, good. How about dinner...tomorrow, if you're free?"

"I'm available, but I'm not free," I quipped.

"Oh, so now I have to pay you?"

"Sure, the price is the pleasure of your company."

She laughed, "I guess it's a date."

We agreed on when, and that I would pick her up, then said our goodbyes. And yes, I was very aware that I now had two dates in a row, two nights in a row, with two different, but equally beautiful women - go figure. I'd gone months without a meaningful encounter with the opposite sex and suddenly it's raining women. I guess my drought was over.

VI. TRISH - FIRST DATE

When I met Trish at the bar, she was wearing a non-descript pantsuit and had her hair pulled back - attractive, though not stunning. But when I went to pick her up, she met me at the door wearing a slinky, sleeveless, form-fitting, shimmery, gray dress that stopped just above the knees and showed every delightful curve of her body. Trish is very well put together - her dress did nothing to hide that fact - her large bosom and the rest of her curvy shape were nicely displayed. She has a moderately narrow waist with just the slightest tummy, and full, very shapely hips. She is medium height at about 5'-6" and probably about 135 pounds, overall quite attractive. She was wearing her long, wavy, dark-brown hair down, hanging to her decolletage in front, and nicely framing her slightly round, very pretty face. With her deep-brown eyes and dark eyebrows, she has a striking, sultry look. Her eyes are quite mesmerizing, with thick, long eyelashes. Her, medium-sized, nicely-shaped nose leads to an average-sized mouth with full lips. She has small wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and slight furrows in her forehead, just above her nose - the kinds of things I think you get from raising a child and having a crappy husband, but they only added character to her pretty face.

I guess I hadn't paid that close of attention before, but I was now. She noticed me staring.

"Is this okay? Do I look alright?" she asked, a little self-consciously.

"You look lovely, sexy as hell!" I replied.

She blushed, "I wasn't sure how to dress. I haven't been on a first date in over twenty years."

"Well, you nailed it. I'll be the envy of every man in the restaurant."

"You silver-tongued devil," she kidded, "but thank you very much. I really appreciate that."

I helped her into my car, and asked if she would like the top up or down.

"Up on the way, if we could. Down on the way home, is fine...my hair, you know."

"Got it," I smiled, and put the top up.

When we were seated in the restaurant, an upper-midrange Italian place that is my go-to for pasta and such, I asked what she would like to drink.

"Um, if you don't mind, I need a little liquid reinforcement; I'm so nervous I'm about to have an anxiety attack."

"Trish, you can relax. I'm tickled to be here with you, and if you didn't notice, half the guys in here about whacked their necks out of joint tracking you to our table. If anybody should be nervous, it should be me. I'm the one who looks like I'm with a woman way out of my league. I can tell you that's what all those guys are thinking."

Trish blushed down to her decolletage, "Thank you, and you are a silver-tongued devil. But I still need that drink."

"Gin and tonic, right?"

"You remember, thanks."

I ordered our drinks, a bloody Mary for me, making them both doubles. After ordering our food, we sipped our drinks and chatted. She wanted to know my story, so I gave her an abbreviated bio, starting with my background growing up in Camden.

"Okay, you know quite a bit about me, but all I know about you is that you're getting divorced, you have a son, and you're beautiful."

"Stop it. You're really starting to embarrass me. I'm beginning to think you don't know what a beautiful woman looks like."

"Lookin' at one." I parried.

She kidded, "Well, stop looking at the other table and pay attention to me."

I laughed, "You win!"

"Okay, well, I'm a CPA as is my husband, ex-husband to be. We both work at the same company as tax accountants, which is uncomfortable and awkward, but I'm looking for different employment. Don and I got married while we were both in college, and I got pregnant right away. I quit school, but went back after my son started grade school. I like to keep active; I like outdoor sports, including tennis; and I love to go to the mountains and go hiking and camping. I'm devastated by my husband's infidelity and our divorce, and I..."