Saturday looked much as it has done for the past few months: Woke up and made pancakes and scrambled eggs for Becca and Christiansson, enjoyed the warmth of the water on my hands as I washed dishes and reveled inwardly at the sense of serenity I felt in the cosiness of my own home. I smiled wryly as I considered that next Saturday will be my last one in this house. Becca and I have decided to move out just that little bit earlier than we had originally planned. We will both be staying at different friends' homes. I will have to find my serenity in my car, or at Mike and Jane's, or Guy's or at Esteban's place from now on and for the immediate future. One day I'll have my 28 or 29 footer - a little sailing boat that Christiansson and I can hang out on. Oh, what a debacle this whole thing is. We should be celebrating our nineteenth anniversary on December 5th.
Before work (my moonlighting job at an upscale local restaurant), Christiansson and I went to a park close to where we live. We shot a few hoops and threw a football around. What a beautiful, sunny day it was, with touch of cool, light breeze - unforgettable moments. I noticed a pretty blonde woman who was walking around and picking up litter. I was impressed by her noble display of concern for the appearance of her neighborhood, so I hailed her over to where Christiansson and I were standing. I introduced myself and Christiansson to Jessica and we struck up an interesting conversation in which we agreed that it was of mutual interest to perhaps meet again with the view to exploring a purely platonic relationship. She has been divorced for a year and a half, has a five year old child and seems to have a great deal of understanding of my situation. I gave her my number and told her to call me if she ever fancies a chat.
After work at the restaurant, I shared a couple of beers with a few of my colleagues and one of them, bizarrely also named Jessica, soon became inebriated, at which point, after flirting outrageously (she is married) with two young strangers, got in my face for the better part of ten or fifteen minutes, her cheeks brushing mine and her spit flying into my face as she delivered a diatribe on how I need to stop being sorry for myself and focus on being the great dad that she knows I am.
Holy cow, there was chemistry between us. I found myself deperately fighting off the tension between my thighs (think "semi") as she stared at me with her pretty blue eyes dancing in and out of my personal space, and her little paintbrush ponytail jogging back and forth.
I told her that if she were single, I'd probably hang out with her.
She said, "Yeah, but you know what? I wouldn't hang out with you, because you are going to be a great dad and you are a great dad, and that's what you've got to be. You have to stop being a selfish bastard and not make this all about you anymore, because in the three months I have known you at the restaurant, all I have heard you go on about is how bad things are going because your wife is leaving you. It's time to man up and suck it up!" Her cheek brushed by mine again. I could feel that dull throbbing between my thighs again. Oh crap...
No, no, no, she's married. Stop this... I can't feel anything for her. I won't feel anything for her. But she's making me feel again. I don't believe it - I'm actually feeling a touch of excitement here!
I left the bar at 0200 - closing time. Jessica kissed me on the lips, quickly, but almost with a sense of deep fondness - that's how it felt to me. I did not reciprocate. Instead I stood still for a moment, bemused, and enchanted with the realization that I am going to be okay. Then I walked to my car. I'm going to survive.
Guess I still have what it takes...
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