Tempted (10 page)

Aside from the shmucks, some other interesting characters have been vying for center stage
–
all online connections, naturally.
 
There’s Stuart, an adorable twenty-something Londoner who, with his brother, owns the bookshop his
deceased parents founded.
 
He’
s an
idealist and a sweetiepie who habitually saves
his ha’pennies to come and visit me
with marital intent
.
 
What’s with all these guys and their marriage proposals?
 
Are decent women really so hard to capture?
 
I think not.
 
Each week I talk to a variety of women on my show, most of whom are kind, open and yearning to have someone to love and call their own.

On the other end of the spectrum from Stuart is Ed, an older hipster who line dances and bird watches and genuinely seems to enjoy the bejeebers out of life.
 
He is very fond of posting ‘affirmations’ on my Facebook wall and has a real knack for choosing the ones that have absolutely nothing to do with me and run counter to how I think
–
thereby aggravating me instead of making me smile
,
as he intends.

That sums up the list of my would-be suitors at present, except for Geronimo, of course.
 
There’s always Geronimo.
 
The more I flat-out tell him I am not interested and never will be, and that the whole idea of being intimate with him gives me the willies, the more he smiles and nods knowingly
and does that old school brush-of-the-
nose indicating
that things are right on track
with some sort of secret scheme.

With board meetings for the ballet company over for the season, I now have Monday nights available and have been spending them on Facebook in search of interesting
topics
for my Wednesday shows.
 
They have been dull and uninspired lately, and so I look to others in my cyber, social circles for new and refreshing content, and for a peek at what ‘real’ life is like in the 21st century.

I have especially enjoyed perusing the page of Dr. Alexander Armstrong, the rock starrish writer, poet, and all around fun guy I met by way of April a little bit ago.
 
Turns out
,
April knows no more about him than I do.
 
They came across one another on someone else’s page
,
and when they found they had a few mutual Facebook friends they decided to do the FB friend thing.
 
With her crammed schedule, she rarely has time to play online
, and I’
m left to ‘lol’ and ‘xoxo’ all by my lonesome.

Dr. Armstrong has become a breath of fresh air for me.
 
I often visit his page along with buddies B&J
–
I’ve been spending so much time with Messrs. Ben and Jerry that they’ve become initialized.
 
Alex is always good for inspiring insight, a gentle smile and sometimes an outright belly laugh.
 
His last update, posted in the wee hours of my time zone, was just the ticket for me this morning, and the inspiration I needed to get out of bed and into the woods:

Enjoy
ing the morning’s zen, I smile at
realizing my headache is gone.
 
Nothing like fresh air and growing things to make you feel alive and vital.
 
Thinking back on Alex’s post
,
I realize I have been hanging over an abyss of oblivion for months
–
settling for crumbs of attention from men who have chosen others over me
–
men who are not there to grasp my hand and pull me up to safety, because they are already holding hands with someone else.
 
Some
her
else.
 
All of this ends now.

It’s time to get back home and go about my day.
 
I think I’ll break routine and do something different today.
 
It’s time for defiance.
 
It’s time for the dawn.

The city has never looked so beautiful.
 
The lights twinkling on the water appear more like fae beings than the cast-off illumination of municipal street lamps designed to keep traffic accidents to a minimu
m.
 
I love the city at night, s
ipping cafe au lait, nibbling mille feuille (Napoleons, to the uninitiated), and ogling the sophisticated styles.
 
There reall
y is nothing like Paris in the s
pringtime.
 
David rests a loving hand on mine and gives it an appreciative squeeze.
 
When I look into his classically handsome face, his eyes are warm and full of emotion.
 
He slowly leans in to kiss me, never taking his eyes off of mine.
 
As his mouth nears
,
he speaks low, “Close your eyes.”

I do.
 
When I open them
,
I am a mass of confusion.
 
Where is David?
 
What am I doing here?
 
I look around my bedroom, concerned and bewildered.
 

Why a dream about David?
 
Why now?

It’s a Saturday in June and I get out of bed just in time to make it to tai chi.
 
My participation is no longer merely based on the fact that the activity is my tradition.
 
Rather, the exercise has become an important part of my life because it connects the mind and spirit with the body.
 
 

My whole routine has changed over the last several weeks.
 
Dinner at Il Fornaio and the Steam Donkey have been replaced with either eating at home or acting on a whim.
 
Life is quieter than it’s been in ages, and yet I find myself restless much of the time.
 
It’s becoming tiresome.
 
I’ve tried to ferret out the reason for this ennui and turned to the chakra shack for guidance.
 
Turns out they’re on spring
break in Ft. Lauderdale.
 
I look
to the me
nage
rie for their take.
 
My cat, Jasper, indicates that what I need is one of his tongue baths.
 
It helps a little.
 
Bulldog pup Persephone seems to be of the mind that if I give her more treats and rub her tummy, somehow
I
will feel better.
 
Daphne, my adorable box turtle, advises me to take things slowly.
 
Meanwhile, my quartet of parakeets suggests I sing.
 
Perhaps they’re right.
 
I should be singing praises of gratitude and looking for the joy and beauty in everything.
 
As I listen to my birds’ sweet voices
,
I could swear they are crooning “Love is a Many Splendored Thing
,
” in perfect four-part harmony.
 
Clearly, I have come to the right place for counsel.
 
The menagerie has been stellar.
 
Treats for all!
 
“No, Persephone, the other pets’ treats are not for you.”

These days
,
I am almost always alone.
 
I’
ve been going out more often, visiting the city, attending fun, silly community festivals, going to the theater more, but it’s always just me, unencumbered except by my thoughts.
 
Ironically, attention from the male quadrant is at an all-time high.
 
Bret is in hot pursuit, sending flowers, lovey-dovey texts and
is
supposedly unable to eat or breathe without me.
 
So, has he separated from his dear, unwitting wife?
 
Not a bit of it.

David has been contacting m
e more, often in my dreams.
 
I’
m gratefully relieved that I have at last (fingers crossed) gotten over him.
 
I’m able to hear about his life without pining to be part of it.
 
I’m able to listen to his zany stories without feeling pangs of jealousy for all we’ll never do together.
 
I’m even able to be sincerely happy for him and gorgeous Giselle, and for the presumably incredible relationship they share.
 
I don’t know how or when I lost the pain and melancholy surrounding him, but I give dual credit to the chakra
shack and the menagerie for cur
ing me of David.

Geronimo is acting even more bizarrely than usual.
 
He has started purchasing things for
our
home.
 
Were I ever to be interested in him romantically, his choices on my behalf would be a deal-breaker.
 
His idea of my taste is something out of an 80’s comedy.
 
He seems to think I would favor a peach and teal color scheme with lots of frills and ruffles.
 
And chotchkies
–
tons of chotchkies.
 
I’m waiting for the kewpie dolls to make an appearance and oh
...
oh!
 
I nearly forgot!
 
He sent away for a pricey Precious Moments bride and groom figurine set as a wedding cake topper.
 
He’s told me he takes it out occasionally in enthusiastic anticipation of the day, then carefully re-wraps the pair in tissue and replaces them in their original box and bag
–
unfortunately, without intent to return them for a refund.

He has also come up with the specific date on which we are to be married, a few months hence.
 
He hasn’t told me when exactly, but whenever it is, I plan to be out of town.
 
He even gave me a ring
– to give to him –
for me to place on his finger during the wedding ceremony!
 
Through it all
,
I have become increasingly shrewish,
remind
ing him that while I care about him very much, it’s solely as a friend.
 
And because we are ‘friends’ I discuss other men with him, knowing it’s rude, but trying to burst his LaLa-Land bubble.
 
I eventually tell him in no uncertain terms that I will never in this lifetime
,
or any other
,
be with him romantically, especially as a married couple.
 
He laughs uproariously and simply repeats his mantra
,
“patience
,
” with contented assurance.