Grandpa's Guide to Women Pt. 02

Later, I was walking to the library when I ran into one of Julie's sorority sisters.

"Ben! Wait up!" she said, trotting in my direction.

"Hi Bridget. How are you?" I said.

"I wanted to say how sorry I am about the way Julie behaved Saturday," Bridget said. "She's been getting non-stop grief from us sorority sisters. Before that happened, she'd spent a lot of time bragging to us about what a great boyfriend you are. Were. She knows she fucked up."

"Well, thanks for the kind words," I said. "I'm sure Julie has been eating a lot of shit for what she did. I feel bad that she humiliated me so much, but she humiliated herself a lot more. I hope people go easy on her."

"Really?" Bridget said, looking surprised. "That's . . . extremely charitable, Ben."

"Yeah, that's me. Extremely Charitable Ben."

"There's one thing I don't understand," Bridget said. "Julie claims you're willing to keep dating her. That can't be true, is it?"

Ah. And now I knew the reason Bridget flagged me down. She didn't want to express sympathy. She liked to gossip, and she wanted me to provide the dirt du jour. I couldn't think of a way to duck the question, so I decided to use it to my advantage. I'd tell Bridget what I wanted her to tell to every girl in the sorority.

"Things will not be the same, but I told Julie I am willing to date her again on the condition that we have an open relationship. The thing that made this whole mess so painful was that I believed we were supposed to be faithful to each other."

"So you are going to date her again? When are you going to see her?"

"Not right away," I said. "A couple of things have to happen first." I was thinking about those STD test results, but I didn't want to mention them because I had no interest in embarrassing Julie more than she'd embarrassed herself.

I had no reason to worry. "Julie said you want her to get tested for STDs."

Of course she did! "Well, I didn't want to say that because I don't want to invade her privacy."

That made Bridget laugh. "Ben, it's not easy to invade the privacy of a girl who flashed her tits to a room full of drunk frat boys."

"Yes. There's that. You make a good point."

Pretty soon I realized that I was following Grandpa's advice again. Without even being aware of it, I was putting on a show of confidence in front of Bridget, and she seemed to be responding. She'd expected me to be angry and frazzled. She seemed both surprised and impressed that I was so calm, so mature, and refused to criticize Julie. Grandpa Frank said I should always be ready to respond to a situation where a woman seemed to like me, so I figured out a way to ask for her number.

"Bridget, I had a very nice time when we all went to that comedy show together," I said. "I'd love it if we could do something like that again. If I see another opportunity to do that, could I give you a call and ask you to invite some of your friends?"

"Sure, Ben," she said. After we exchanged numbers Bridget surprised me.

"You know, there's a jazz pianist playing in the student center tonight," she said. "I hear she's pretty good. Would you like to see if we can get a group together for that?"

Ordinarily that would have sounded great, but I was already going to that show with Sonya. "I'm sorry, but I can't," I said. "I'm planning to see that show with someone. I want to get to know her a little better, so I'd rather not do that as part of a group. Maybe next time."

Bridget's eyes got big and happy. She knew she'd just heard some particularly juicy gossip.

There was no way I could have avoided telling her. Now, every girl in Julie and Bridget's sorority would soon learn that I was already following through on my promise to date other people. I wasn't happy about the fact that Julie would feel bad when she heard about it, but she emasculated me so thoroughly that I needed to salvage what was left of my manhood. This was a way to do that.

I felt great by the time Sonya and I walked to the student center and found a quiet table off to one side.

"I think this is probably a good opportunity for us to tell each other our life stories," I said. "You go first."

"My story is not very interesting," Sonya said. That turned out not to be true at all. She played several musical instruments including . . . wait for it . . . jazz piano! I'd picked a perfect first date! Wait till I tell Grandpa! This was an example of what he means when he says, "It's better to be lucky than good."

She was a National Merit Scholar. I like brainy girls, especially when they happen to be so cute. She had strawberry blond hair and a lovely face that was covered with freckles. I couldn't help but wonder if she had freckles on the parts of her body concealed by her clothes. She was wearing a very stylish outfit and her hair and makeup looked perfect. I wondered if she was always so put-together or if she went to a special effort for me.

I remembered the words of my Grandpa Frank. Most men talk about themselves too much, Ben. Women love it when a man listens to what they have to say. Get them to talk about themselves, and pay attention.

That's what I did. When Sonya asked questions about me, I answered them as concisely as I could, then turned the conversation back to her. She did 90 percent of the talking and I did 90 percent of the listening.

The pianist was very good. Things seemed to be going well, so I decided to take a chance. Following advice Grandpa gave me before my first date with Beth, I put my hand on the table right next to Sonya's hand.

If she pulls away, that means she doesn't want to hold hands, Grandpa said. But if she doesn't move, that means she's OK with it.

She didn't move, so I took her hand. I kept my expression relaxed. Grandpa said it's a good idea to act as though no sensible woman could possibly object to anything I did. Today it was holding hands without asking permission first. If things went well, we'd be doing more interesting things soon.

The performance went as well as it could, but something very unusual happened when it was almost over. Three girls from Julie's sorority came in and sat at an empty table. They all took a good look at me; I got the impression that the only reason they showed up so late was to see who I'd invited to the jazz concert.

You will not believe what they did. They took my picture! They pretended they were taking a photo of the pianist, but I could tell they were actually trying to get a shot of me and my date. I knew this meant they'd rush home to the sorority and show all the girls a picture proving I wasn't sitting at home moping over Julie's betrayal.

Good. Operation Manhood Retrieval was proceeding ahead of schedule.

A nice thing happened. I'd done such a good job getting Sonya to tell me about herself that she was happily talking away during the walk back to her sorority. I have no idea if her previous boyfriends were as interested in what she had to say, but it was pretty clear that she enjoyed being with a guy who didn't hog the conversation.

"Would you like to come in for a while?" Sonya said when we got to where she lived. Her sorority was in a house that had been a mansion a century ago. Rich people had fled this neighborhood decades ago, leaving behind ornate homes like the one where Sonya and her sorority sisters live today. It's located near Julie's sorority, and I realized I'd have to walk by on the way to my dorm.

The elegant old living room was very nice, with a mismatched collection of aging furniture that offered lots of comfortable places to sit and talk. There were a couple of girls there already. I thought that's where Sonya wanted to go, but instead she led me to a smaller room off to one side.

"The architect who designed this house was fairly famous," she said. "There's a nice framed blueprint hanging in the dining room. It labels this room as 'the parlor.' I'm not really sure what makes a room a parlor," Sonya said.

"I don't either," I said. "That sounds like a question for Mr. Google." I searched for the word parlor. The definition that fit best was "a sitting room in a private home."

"That sounds about right," Sonya said, sitting on a red velvet sofa and patting the spot next to her.

"Sit," she said.

"Sure," I said. "Would you also like me to fetch? Stay? Roll over?"

In the parlor, Sonya was sitting so close I was tempted to put my arm around her. But things were going so well I decided not to rush. I was pretty sure I'd made a good impression. I knew our first date was almost over, and I didn't want to do anything to mess it up in the short time left.

That was a good decision.

"Ben, I had a very nice time tonight," she said. "I'm very comfortable around you. It feels as though I've known you for a long time."

"I'm glad to hear that," I said. "I like you. A lot. I'd like to know you better."

"I'm not sure if I can explain this, but I'll try," she said. "The guys I tend to like most are the ones who treat me like an equal. I hate it when guys think women deserve to be treated like property. I prefer it when a guy treats me like just another one of the guys.

"But you don't treat me like a guy. When I'm with you, I feel like a girl. You are treating me like an equal, but not like another man. I've never felt that before. I like it."

"In the short time we've been talking, I've learned that you have many fine qualities," I said. "So far, the fact that you are so overpoweringly feminine may be my second favorite thing. Of course, my favorite thing is the fact that you are so overpoweringly smart. But that should go without saying. If I make you feel like a girl, it might be due to the fact that I can't stop thinking about that myself."

She smiled again. Sonya does that a lot. I like it.

"You have a nice way of expressing yourself," she said.

"Well, it's good to hear you think I have at least one nice quality," I said. "Maybe I should express the fact that over the last few hours I've spent a lot of time trying to think of a good idea for a second date."

"I'm sure we'll come up with something," she said. "The idea you had for tonight was very nice."

"I worked hard on it," I said. "You won't believe how much time it takes to read the weekly list of upcoming campus events."

Sonya laughed. I loved the way it sounded. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before we said goodbye. I kissed her hand, and she laughed again.

"Ben, you're like a character from the golden age of Hollywood."

"That's what I was going for," I said.

I had to walk past Julie's sorority on my way home. I walked briskly, but I saw a group of three girls in the window, watching as I passed. It seemed likely that Julie and all of her sorority sisters would soon be gossiping about me and Sonya going on a date.

Good.

...................................

Operation Manhood Retrieval. It should be complete soon. In Part 3, Sonya decides she likes Ben enough to keep him around.