I guess this is a fitting 100th posting. I hope it will clear up some of the confusion. At the very least I hope you find my attempt at catharsis entertaining and worth your time. The quotes are to the best of my recollection. All the major themes and events happened; however, the names and some other specific details have been omitted, altered, or deleted to protect the innocent and the guilty.
Once again I thank everyone for all the comments, they have been most helpful.
0700 hrs 2-20-2010 Texas
I checked my crackberry this morning and no messages. All is good. At approximately 0830 hrs my son reminds me that he needs the table saw for his Eagle Scout project.
"What's keeping you from using it?"
"You loaned it to Mr. Doe before Christmas, remember?"
"Oh..." Aaawkward
In the past my dealings with the Doe family has been somewhat minimal, mostly centered on the union of our kids activities & Christmas Card exchange. I'd forgotten that the Money Pit had "volunteered" the table saw's services to "Bob" (Jane's Dad) last year. This is too weird, sigh. I Call up Mr. Doe and he insists on bringing the saw over within the hour. As we hang up the light on my crackberry is blinking, it's a message from his daughter. Grrreat...
Having just gotten off the phone with her father I feel, well weird. What are the odds! Its like what happens to the unlucky protagonist in a Martin Scorsese flick; it's as if a conspiracy of fate has turned against me. I put the phone in my pocket and start to mull the possibilities, pacing about. Which of course, catches the attention of my son, "What's wrong Dad?"
I have to stop and think about how to answer that, "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies..."
He stares intently, having lived his entire life with me he knows I'm upset about something, and this concerns him.
"I haven't done anything, have I?"
"Nooo, not yet..." I reply.
"This isn't going to affect my party tonight, will it?"
"Only if you keep bothering me..."
Her chirps up, "Well then, I'm going to get things ready for tonight..."
He a good boy.
I go to my bedroom to open the message on my crackberry. It's measured and well written. Jane apologies for being forward, acknowledges it wasn't right, and it's completely understandable how I misinterpreted her intentions. She asks that I meet her for lunch today (2/19) at a restaurant near her work.
In retrospect, I see how her wording was carefully chosen, even precise in a subtle way. But I wasn't in the mood for subtlety just then because, for some reason known only to God and the Cats, the fact that her Father's truck would be pulling up my drive way at any moment put a pretty big damper on my ability to decipher her rhetoric. Keeping to my plan, I quickly replied that there were no hard feelings but that I didn't feel such a meeting would be appropriate and wished her a good life. Concise and final, it helped me feel better.
Mr. Doe's truck pulled up shortly thereafter and we unloaded the saw. I decided to see what intel I could get by casually stating I overheard Jane telling girls that she was financially strapped last Saturday.
He sat on his bumper, sighed, shook his head, looked up and said, "Hunter, if you go to the dictionary and look up the term 'High Maintenance' you'll find a picture of my daughter..."
Turns out that even though his income is down there's enough to pay the bills. But that doesn't matter because a long time ago he and his wife set up a (trust?) fund to finance their kids education. So there's enough money for Jane, her siblings, and his eventual grandchildren go to college. Yes, it doesn't give her everything she wants, but her necessities are met.
My first thought was, this is interesting... but I couldn't dwell on Jane's inconsistencies because it turns her Dad's an old Sea dog like me. So before you know it Bob and I are sitting in my garage swigging Gator Aide, swapping sea stories. Eventually we become convinced that if the world could see our true Genius, and elect us benevolent dictators all the world's problems would be solved. Suddenly our male bonding was interrupted when my son enters our domain with a panicked look and the phone in his hand.
"Uh, Dad. Money Pit's on the phone and she's upset.."
Before I can take the phone from his had my eldest's voice emanates from above, "I AM NOT UPSET! I'M MAD!"
I point to myself. He nods yes, and before I can lift the receiver to my my ear Bob's truck is pulling out the driveway and the boy is nowhere to be seen. I will face her wrath alone, and of all varied, contorted, multitude of possibilities, I have only the vaguest of fears as to what's gotten into her.
"WHY WON'T YOU HELP JANE?!?"
"Jesus H. Cornelius Christ, girl, what in the'l are you talking about?"
Indignantly she rants on, "Jane called and told me how blew her off when she asked for your help! YOU WILL NOT....."
Confused I stutter, "Wait, what? Jane told you what?"
"...YOU WILL NOT....."
I mute the handset, hold the phone at my side, and mutter something about the female dogs at the local kennel. My eldest is a strange combination of me and my wife's family. There are times when we've crossed swords and I feel like I'm up against me, except that the mini-me has a higher voice and is pretty. Then there's the Tasmanian Devil, her Uncle has one too. But this is bad, really bad... Obviously Jane has gotten the Taz on the phone to get me to lunch.
"DADDY ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!?"
"Sweetheart, all of Collin County is listening to you..."
Thinking as fast as I can, I rule out telling the Taz that her BFF has put the moves on dear old Dad to get him to pay some bills. Even though my daughter really has her war paint on, she would un-hesitatingly believe me. However, just flipping the conflict over the fence to my daughter just isn't fair to her. In retrospect, it's easy to understand why she's so upset. My daughter sees my refusal to help Jane as uncharacteristic of what believes I should be. Both my girls see me as St. George and it's my Damn job to slay any and all dragons. I'll have to man-up and deal with being outmaneuvered by Jane.
"Okay, sweetheart, I'll see what I can do..."
"Really Daddy?..." The Taz has left the building, and my princess has returned.
My children as so spoiled they'd smell on ice.
I'm looking forward to lunch with the same dread I had for Obama's inauguration.
A side bar is needed here to understand what I'm going through. I have a very strong clothing fetish. A lady in a nice dress wearing closed-toed stiletto pumps is the sexiest thing there is to me. Let me illustrate how strong this fetish is me by explaining that I still have the dresses my wife wore when we conceived our three children. And yes, this can be a problem with attractive conservatively dressed women in the workplace, but I deal with it.
Now back to the narrative...
As I walk up to the cafe, she sees me and waives me over. Immediately the little sailor starts another insurgency against the big head and reason. Jane is gawd-almighty-damned gorgeous standing there in her suit jacket, button-up blouse, skirt that comes to just above her knees, and patent black stiletto pumps. She couldn't have been sexier if she were standing there naked, and if the little sailor hadn't been tucked under he would have fired a full salvo as I stood there. Instead I got one of the biggest dick cramps ever.
As Jane guided me to my table I excused myself to the men's room which, thankfully, was empty. Once inside I straightened the sailor out with some measure of relief. I then put my back to the wall, came to attention, and commenced to hit my head against it, HARD. Please understand how frustrated I was, it seemed I was losing all control as fated conspired against all my weaknesses. My self-flagellation released the sexual tension enough to ease my erection. A bit more in control, I washed my face, took two Advil I keep in my jacket, and returned to our table.
Out of frame.
Sorry, but I'm not up to writing about the lunch. Word has crashed on me once tonight and frankly I just don't want to deal with it. If you need to, click the quote link and come back, we'll wait.
(cue Jeopardy theme)
She was very mature and professional steering the conversation to work, school, & people we knew. I kept my feet wrapped under my chair, out of range.
Originally Posted by DFK Hunter
Okay, now for the post game show...
EPOLOGUE #1: The Ballerina Diva Gets a Clue
That afternoon my younger daughter (Jr in HS) asked me point blank if I was having an affair with Jane! It turns out she saw Jane kiss me the Saturday before (2/13) and deduced it was Jane I met for lunch today (2/20). (I seldom leave the house for Saturday lunch dates and the short notice resulted in a poor cover story). The Diva has known for some time about Jane's crush.
"How come you never told me about this?"
She looks at me like I'm from outer space, and shrugs her shoulders.
The Ballerina Diva also related that she could tell when Jane had broken-up with a boyfriend because she (Jane) would contact her (Diva) for info about me (myself and I). I asked if her older sister knew about Jane's crush but she didn't think so. I then decided to press my luck.
"How would you feel if I were to marry Jane?"
She shudders with disgust, "OMG, Dad, that's-just-too-weird. As far as I'm concerned you and Mom only had sex four times, your honeymoon and for each of us. But, ewww... The thought of you having sex with someone I actually know, its' just , ewww."
I smiled, "Well, you "actually" knew your mother didn't you?"
<GLARE>
My best guess is that Jane's crush is (was?) an emotional crutch she developed and used to get through stressing times like break-ups and school. Sometimes these crutches develop a life of their own that carries on beyond its usefulness. I know, I have one myself.
And besides, I'd like to believe that a make believe fantasy world centered on myself was better for Jane than drug habit.
EPOLOGUE #2: The Invasion of the Wii Snatchers
Just before son's party started he came up to me and blurted,
"Dad, you're not going to marry Jane, are you?"
(Good Gawd-Almighty-Damn, does everybody know about this but me?) "No, of course not, whatever gave you that idea?"
"I overheard you in the kitchen talking to Diva..."
I put my arm around my grandfather's only male progeny, looked him straight (well, ever so slightly up) in the eye, and advised him, "Son, you should know by now that whenever I'm talking to one of your sisters one-on-one you should close your ears, go to your room, drop to to your knees, and thank the Good Lord above for giving you a penis."
(I laughed harder than he did.)
"Well, you can't marry her anyway.""
"A little too weird, eh?"
"Yeah, that too, But I'm going to marry her..."
Give him credit. He's got good taste.
EPOLOGUE #2.1: Just for Neotek:
When the party got into full swing there were 14 9th graders in my house. Nine or 10 boys, the rest girls. Loud, but not too unruly. They tag-teamed multiplayers on the Wii, but when it wasn't their turn the Wii snatchers became restless and searched for entertainment. At one moment a girl walks buy carrying the purr-monster. He sees me and thrusts his front paws out toward me and starts to mew, but yawns instead. But his eyes never left me as they walked away...
Later the Ballerina Diva called me over to the laundry room, "Dad, Dad, you gotta see this..."
The cats were hiding under some dirty shirts in the laundry hamper.
Originally Posted by DFK Hunter
One thing I should make clear, she is NOT, I repeat , NOT suffering financially. She only said that to give credence to the SD ploy to get me to fall in love with her. 
Rrrright.... Maybe I do need to post the prequel. 
Originally Posted by DFW5Traveler
Yes, they hid in the laundry hamper... :hkitty:
