The Relationship Tester

I got another "Eureka" moment.

"OK; but let's take it slow -- and I really need to know that you're serious about being sorry. I need to know that you're serious enough to embarrass yourself, Roger."

"I'll do anything," he excitedly replied.

"Friday night I want you to wear a pink long sleeve shirt with rolled up sleeves, shorts, and a fanny pack and meet me at a bar called 'Flower Power.'"

"What -- that's bizarre; I don't have a pink shirt or fanny pack," he retorted.

"I guess that you don't really want to show me that you're sorry, so goodbye; and don't call again," I said, although I did not terminate the call.

"No...no...wait...wait," he anxiously barked. "If that's what I need to do to get between your sweet loins again, I'll do it," he chimed, almost making me barf. "Where's this 'Flower Power' bar? I've never heard of it."

"I used to go there a lot right after college; it's a sweet place," I gushed. "It's on the corner of 33rd and Forest; know where that is?"

"Uh sure, I can find it. Want me to pick you up?"

"No...no. I'll be coming from someplace else. Let's meet there -- 9 p. m."

"Great, Amy...I'm so pleased..." he started to say. I sweetly interrupted him with "Bye-now, and sweet dreams."

In fact, I had never been in 'Flower Power,' but a restaurant that I used to frequent was three doors down from it. It's a gay bar. Even though I didn't let Gloria have him thrown in jail, I thought that Roger had gotten off too easy, and after his call I was more than pissed.

I called up Kevin, asked him to get a protective order against Roger precluding him from contacting me in any way. I asked that he be served with the protective order once he left 'Flower Power' on Friday night. I told Kevin what I had planned. I thought Kevin might have a coronary on the other end of the phone he was laughing so hard.

To make things more interesting, about quarter to nine on Friday night on a prepaid cell I called 'Flower Power,' and asked to talk to the manager. When he got on the line I told him "I hope that this isn't a false alarm, but a loudmouthed homophobic guy I know is bragging that he's going to go to your fine establishment tonight to 'kick some queer ass' as he delicately put it."

"What's his name, and what does he look like?" the manager growled.

"His first name is Roger; I don't know his last name. He's about six feet two inches tall, has wavy blond hair, is wearing a pink shirt with rolled up sleeves, and shorts. I don't think that he has a gun in his fanny pack, but I don't really know for sure," I replied, using all of my will power to refrain from laughing.

Kevin excitedly reported to me on Saturday that Roger was served with the protective order in the ambulance on his way to the hospital about 9:30 on Friday night. "Shouldn't we go out to celebrate?" he asked.

"Not too subtle are you, Kevin. Do all Wallace men have a thing for me?"

"Just Chester and me, as far as I know," he chuckled.

"The day that the final divorce decree is entered deliver a copy to me and we'll go out on the town to celebrate that night."

"Sounds like a plan," Kevin chuckled again.

From the time that I met Kevin until that conversation I had really grown fond of him. He used any excuse that he could to talk to or meet with me, and I not only never shot him down, I encouraged him. Not only was he a super stud, but he was probably the nicest, most charitable, secure guy I had ever met. I couldn't see any possibility that he would morph into the jealous type like Bryce had.

The night that Kevin delivered the divorce decree to me we didn't just go out on the town; we spent from 11:00 p.m. until 4 p.m. the next day in his bed trying to locate all of each other's' erogenous zones -- that is when we weren't trying to screw each other to death. It was an order of magnitude better than any other sex I'd had before. The only reason that we quit at 4 p. m. was because Kevin coerced me -- by wantonly tickling me -- to agree to go with his parents to a party that night.

When Kevin and I showed up at the party holding hands and with a "just fucked" look, Chester -- and his wife/Kevin's mother who actually never was jealous of me; we were actually friends -- got big smiles on their faces. I thought that Chester would hurt Kevin's back and shoulders he pounded them with such glee, and he lifted me off the ground with his bear hug.

It was really funny, but at that party I had no angst about moving too fast with Kevin, despite my experience after my whirlwind courtship with Bryce. "I'll just roll with the waves," was my attitude.

About three months later, after rendering me almost comatose with one of his patented energetic sex sessions, Kevin produced a ring, seemingly from the ether.

"Are you sure -- I'm a divorced woman," I mumbled in reply with a diabolical grin on my face.

"No I'm not sure, and I barely like you -- or I like you bare -- I can't remember which," he grinned, "but my parents will disown me if I don't marry you so you have to say yes," he replied with his own grin getting more diabolical.

"Screw me again and then maybe I'll give you my answer," I chirped.

*****************

That was seven happy, loving, wonderful years, and two kids, ago. I was smart enough to say "Yes!"