The New Sense

Tuesday, April 30, 2002

Finally! He showed up this afternoon. I'll give him some credit for looking sheepish, mind you. And it wasn't just the look — he absolutely reeked of sheep! He was wearing a woollen sweater which mustn't have been washed for weeks.
After last night's patheticness I got out of bed this morning with a new resolve to shape up, be strong and move on. I was feeling so positive I could have made myself an infomercial ("Order your Sarco Self-Esteemifier now and get, not one, not two, but three doses of Extra-strength Resolve and a copy of Gloria Gaynor's 'I Will Survive'.")
But seeing B— made it all dissolve. He was trying really hard not to shiver as he sat at the bar. I got him a coffee and asked him how he'd been. He smiled, knowing that the tense of the question ("How have you been?") was usually reserved for people one hasn't seen for at least several months. He smiled because he knew that it actually
had been several months in dating land since we slept together.
"Oh, fine," he said, and I didn't believe either word. The first one made light of the question. He's not stupid, though; he knows that girls aren't happy when guys sleep with them for the first time and then disappear for ten days. The second word was, as far as I could tell by his smell and appearance, the exact opposite of the truth.
I summed up these thoughts by answering, "Uh-huh…"
"So, er, I've been a bit busy…and…I…"
"Uh-huh…"
"…well…I…was afraid to see you."
"Uh. Huh?"
"I don't mean for emotional reasons. I mean, maybe, a bit, but not really. No, I was worried someone was watching me and I didn't want to get you involved."
Oh, great, he's either paranoid or on the lam. Smells like a sheep and he's on the lam…
"But I think I was wrong, so I came to apologise," he said, looking down at the bar.
Okay… paranoid, but thoughtful. A girl could do worse. I already have.
"Don't worry — I've had worse done to me."
I looked over at Olga, who was pretending to read the paper. She turned to face B— and smiled. You could just about see through the decades to the woman who looks like Isabella Rossellini holding a baby in a forty-year-old photo behind the bar.
"You should have something to eat, my dear," she said to him. "A nice Irish stew should warm you up."
He smiled at her, looked at me and nodded. I went to reheat the stew and saw Olga out of the corner of my eye stand up, approach him, and rub his back between his shoulders as she said something to him. Then she left, throwing a mischievous grin in my direction.
B— looked like he was trying really hard to not wolf down the stew as I stood and watched him. We didn't say anything. Then two middle-aged guys I've never seen before sat down at the bar and ordered pints. I could tell they were in it for the long haul, so I knew right away that there was a limit to how serious a personal discussion I could have with B—.
He picked up Olga's discarded paper, drank his Guinness and we chatted a bit about current events. This WorldCom guy has quit. What a crook! B— made a good point — the Enron and WorldCom scandals have done more to hurt the US economy than Bin Laden over the last year. Do they realise this?
After he finished his beer he took my hand across the bar, kissed it and promised he'd see me very soon. Then he left. I felt pretty good after that.

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posted by Sara