An ongoing romance
Today, July14th 2011 is my 58th birthday. Wow!, what a day this was. I want the world to know just how special it was.Most of my memorable birthdays were in my childhood. Like my eleventh birthday, I got a brand new bike. It was hidden under the bed. My Dad often did that knowing it would build the suspense of receiving a gift. That always made it more fun. Or, my twelfth birthday , when Dad gave me a .22 caliber bolt action rifle. The rifle was a great gift. It made me feel that Dad believed I would be safe and responsible with a firearm. The bolt action was Dads way of assuring that I went slow and actually learned to shoot. He knew I was still a kid and if I had a semi-automatic rifle, I would simply spray bullets everywhere and not really learn patience and accuracy. It also taught me to conserve resources. He let me buy my own ammuition. He always supervised my target practice and always let me know that he was proud of me. There were other memorable birthdays throughout the years. However, today was my most memorable and special birthday of my life, ever. I will forever refer to this years birthday as the year of the “Birthday Babe” I hope that sounds intriquing and it is! I would love to give you all the details but I know that someday my kids will read this. I can just hear them now saying;” Eeeyyuuu Dad!!” What really matters is that the “Birthday Babe” knows just how special and wonderful she made this day. It was fantastic!
It started with an early morning phone call. I was already awake, expecting the call. She said she was on the way and my heart pounded out of my chest. Not only am I hot for this woman but I have never had anyone offer themselves, for my birthday, to spend one whole day with me doing only the things that I enjoy, never! I was very flattered! My friend is no ordinary woman. She is very attractive, accomplished, intelligent and educated. She knows me better than anyone else on earth and we have so many interests and philosophies in common. There is literally nothing we can't share together, except maybe dental floss.There are no secrets between us and no reasons to have them. We have the perfect friendship, and more! Again, lack of detail here is intended to keep my kids from trying to poke out their “ Mind's eye”. They only think of me as their Dad at a given age. They know little else about me exept what they see every other weekend.
The big moment arrives, I hear a knock at the door. Her travel time was short so without much time to dress I am opening the door in jeans and no shirt. I've lost weight since I last saw her and she seems to approve. She sets down the shopping bag in her hand and we throw ourselves into an embrace. We hold that embrace for a long time allowing the pain of the lost years to leave our hearts, minds and bodies. We end the embrace and look into each others eyes for a few seconds. Lost in remembrance, it seems like an hour. Suddenly, we snap back into the moment and into the present.We finish each others sentences as we decide to go to breakfast, the favorite meal of the day for both of us.
Any meal I share with Elise is an event. The normally shy princess of worldly causes would, on most occasions, be sharing a table with local leaders promoting education for women, feeding homeless children, and ending cruelty to animals. I'm sure she is appropriately reserved at those meals. When she and I share a table, it is so very obvious to everyone how we feel about each other. Holding hands across the table, grazing at will from each others plates, our connection is there for everyone to see. We laugh hysterically, being as quiet as one can be in convulsive laughter. We are often asked what we are celebrating and our answer is always in unison”Being together!” We spend enough time apart that our time together can only be described as unbelievably precious.
Out of the restaurant, onto the sidewalk We are in an upscale retail area of one of our favorite cities, a place we have shopped many times before. She announces that my money is no good today because it's my birthday. I politely object but she wins most arguments, especially about money. She is not wealthy but well supported by the foundation that employs her. She completes each mission the foundation sends her on and she is able to enjoy life without going into overdrive with her finances. Besides, the majority of people she helps are dirt poor. How could she in good conscience, partake of extravagance. Today she will make an exception for me. I'm a lucky guy!
When extravagance is the order of the day, she loves to shop at Agent Provocatuer, a very upscale UK merchant of lingerie, shoes and accessories with only a handful of locations around the world. Their items are extreemly well crafted with materials of exquiste quality. The selection is enormous with each “range” of clothing and acessories named for one of their eye popping models. Anything purchased from Agent Provocatuer will likely last a lifetime because of its quality or at least a lifetime in the mind for seductive design and sensual appearance. I stop in my tracks at one the elegant and tasteful window displays. I am frozen and silent, my pulse is full. I can hear my heart in my head. Elise is nothing if not perceptive. And she knows my taste in clothing. She says “Wait right here!” She knows that if I go inside with her I will drag her all over the store begging her to try on this and try on that. She also knows she must be on a plane this afternoon and there is no time for this and that. Our precious moments are on a meter. The meter is running. Yet, I am as important to her as third world children. I'm just not as important as abused animals. They are innocent and defenseless. She respects me for being self-sufficient no matter how difficult that may be. She loves that I have served and helped so many people as a Paramedic and that by becoming a nurse I will resume my mission to help and serve people. My mission is here, hers is all around the world, I love that about her.
Quite unlike many women she returns in a flash with a small box. She ignores me as I ask, “What's in the box?” “ You'll see!” she says and away we go to my car. The suspense is killing me just like when I was eleven. Only this is no bike hidden under a bed by my Dad. This is a beautiful wordly woman who is keeping me in suspense with something sexy in a small white box! If I had heart disease, this would be my last day on earth. This thing, in this box, is undoubetly the most alluring gift of my life and it's not even for me. It's only for me to see. And I don't even know when that will be.
We jump into the car and we crash into each other, making out like teenagers who just left the prom. Passing cars honk at us as our public display is there for the aware. And of course, we find that hillarious. Laughing as we speed away we hold hands as we make our way back to my place. I'm sweating, my mind is racing. My thoughts are unpublishable in this forum. I know that this is one of those moments out of a special day that people are referring to when they say;”Life is too short!” I'm ever aware that life is too short and I intend to make the most of these moments and this day.!
Arriving at my place, I jump from the car and run in leaving the door to the building open for Elise. She walks slowly toward the door, keeping the suspense alive. I open my door and go straight to the mirror to wipe off her lipstick from my face and neck. I hear my door close behind Elise. We are alone and we have this adorable box. I know better than to ask again; “What's in the box?” Such a question would be a clear sign of impatience, unworthy of a stallward public servant. Such a question, if repeated, would imply a sense of self-entitelement. I waited silently, with one eyebrow raised for the answer. Over forty minutes have passed since we rushed away from Agent Provacatuer. That is more than enough time for me to fill in the blank a thousand times. I raise the other eyebrow while lowering the first one That makes her laugh. I 've learned that the best thing to give a woman is a smile. She won't answer yet, of course. At least, she now walks into the bathroom closing the door slowly and silently. She leaves me to suffer from my own obvious delerium.
After more time than I could possibly stand, the door opens. She emerged wearing very sexy garments that I had seen before. Still not knowiing what the surprise is, I search her delectable image for something new. Just then, she transitions from the carpeted bathroom into the tiled hallway and suddenly there is a resounding “Click” from each short stride and sexy footstep. She is wearing the most amazing shoes I have ever seen in my life. The problem I notice suddenly is that she is unnacustomed to such footware. She is wobbly at best and my heart and brain fall for her all over again. She knows what I like. And even though she rarely wears heels, the shoes are what she chose as my gift, at least to see. I love the gesture and her unselfish choice. She has chosen to be vulnerable and wobbly just for me.
“Happy birthday to me!”, I said to myself, as I rushed to her side to keep her from falling down like some beauuty queen in one of those You Tube videos. She appreciates that I am a gentleman who has come to her rescue! I appreciate the miles out of her way that she has traveled and that she sacrificed one whole day for me just to celebrate my big day and give such a wonderful gift.
We spent the balance of our time, before her departure, fullfiling each other in every way we could possibly think of. We made requests of each other which will remain in our privacy.Each request was a gift granted in itself. Her gift of the shoes was as much about knowing someone and caring about them as anything else. Her service to mankind is what keeps her in my heart and soul. Everthing else is icing on the cake. There is no doubt that she is the cake. Do we love each other? That's private! Would we ever marry? That's private too! We left again for a quick but very satisfying meal. She paid for dinner, again pointing out that it was my birthday.
Before her cab ride to the airport, she placed the shoes in the box and handed it to me. I would find out later that she had secretly placed in the box, three books that she knew I would enjoy. One was a medical book of historical importance to Oncology, about Henrietta Lacks, AKA Hellen Lane. This was an extreemely thoughtful gift too. The shoes are kept in the bottom of my closet. Whenever she returns to me she can try them out again. I don't care if she ever walks well in those shoes. She makes the shoes sexy just by wearing them. She doesn't need to walk.
My purpose in writing about this special day is like everything else in my life, it's for my kids. It's for them to know that they should consider life too short now and act accordingly. That there are no short cuts or handouts unless you accept the penalty for those short cuts and handouts later. That the best lives are spent in esteem for a few and in service to all. And that little things mean a lot when shared between truthful people.
I may be gone when my children come to these realizations. All I want is that they will let a small sincere smile cross their faces when that realization comes.