Many mundane details

At some point, I need to find a way to tell New Fella that when he doesn't call when he says he will, it drives me wonky. And I need to say it without sounding like an insecure weenie. Even though I am one.

Last night, we had a great end-of-day conversation. He was tired, but he told me about his day and evening, and was in a good enough mood to be a smart ass about it. He loves being a smart ass. Then, he asked about my day. When I said it was good and didn't elaborate much, he pushed for details. "No meetings?" he asked. No, no meetings, but I did have one instructor who was sure the system had done something to her. He asked for more details, again. "What was it the system was supposed to have done to her?" He asks questions. We have give-and-take. I like that.

"I'll call you in the morning and we'll see about getting together, all right?" All right, even though I planned to do the calling.

And I did. I left a message at 10:15, letting him know that the kids and I were going to lunch in a c0uple of hours, and he was welcome to join us. He has not met my son yet. By noon, I was in a foul mood, and I do mean foul. The kids and I were headed out for our lunch. I almost left my son at home because he wouldn't stop texting and just get ready to go. My nerves were about it explode.

12:15, my phone rings.

He's yawning. Sounds tired. Here it comes, I think. He's gonna back out of the whole day.

"We're just getting up and around." They slept late. He's running several errands with his son. "What are you up to?"

We're leaving the driveway and trying to decide where lunch is. "Who is 'we'?" he asks. I tell him and say they are welcome to join us. He thinks for a moment. "No, why don't I get my stuff done and we'll get together later." I ask, and "later" means about 4:00. Fits with my schedule, too.

4:00 comes and I call to see if I'm supposed to meet him somewhere or at his place. No answer on the cell, so I try the home phone. I don't often call the home phone, but I'm sick of his cell phone today. Daughter answers. I say "Hi" to her and start to say it's me, but she hollers over me. "Hi, baby girl!" I needed a friendly greeting like that.

She hands me off to her dad. He's yawning again. "How are you?" I ask.
"Pooped. But I got a lot done. You?"
"Fine. Got a lot done, too. Should I head that way? Or....?"
"Yeah, that's fine. I don't feel like going anywhere, but we can hang out here."

Fine by me. He is still determined that I should see the "American Pie" trilogy, so I figure we'll do that.

I get there and daughter is in the front yard with the neighbors. She waves enthusiastically at me. We go inside and New Fella is in His Chair, a white leather recliner opposite the TV. He talks to daughter for a moment, then turns to me with a big grin. "Hi! How are you?" I have a momentary urge to kiss him, but he's never seemed big on that in front of daughter. I probably should have anyhow. (sigh - I love seeing my missed opportunities in hindsight. I wish I'd quit missing them.)

He doesn't get up. A black and white cat is cozied up in his lap - a situation that seems to confound him. "Why does your cat want to sit on me?" he asks daughter.

"I don't get why you can't just put her on the floor if you don't like it."

"But she looks comfortable." I have to laugh. Big softie.

We chat and watch football for awhile. My alma mater is getting a thorough public flogging. Lovely. He pops in the movie. Dang, those are raunchy movies! But effing hysterical, too. We seem to have a wide variety of cinematic tastes we can share.

Usually, when I'm at his house, the first time he heads for the kitchen, the conversations goes like:
"Can I get you something to drink?"
"Sure, what do you have?"
"Coke, Diet Coke, Sierra Mist...."
"Diet Coke, please."
"With ice?"
"Please."

I haven't mentioned it before, but New Fella has a daily ritual of getting a HUGE fountain drink cup of half Coca Cola and half Diet Coca Cola. Yesterday, he had two of these cups sitting on the kitchen counter, fairly full. As the movie starts, he goes to the kitchen, grabs a glass, adds ice, picks up the cup, and fills the glass from it. Then hands it to me with a smile. No need to ask anymore, it seems. And he filled it from his own cup.

Before movie 2, New Fella starts rumbling around the kitchen for dinner. I head to the restroom, but let my hand trail across his back as I pass. Didn't miss that one! He doesn't really react, that I can see, though.

He has to run to the store, so I stay and visit with daughter. We laugh a lot. She shows me a picture of her grandparents on their honeymoon. It's so sweet. Then, she shows me a picture of her parents - their engagement photo. She says her dad hates that she has it in a frame. Even in the black and white photo, his eyes are piercing. He has long hair and a ridiculous mustache. It's about 1977. When I was nine.

His ex-wife is pretty. I comment on this to daughter. "Yes, my mother is gorgeous," she says. And she tells me a story of her own now-ex mistaking a younger picture of her mother as her. Daughter and I get along famously, but I do wonder exactly why she decided to show me that picture.

When New Fella is back, I get to help with some of the cooking again. I love that. It's fajitas and he makes them a little on the spicy side. Yum! This guy is such an amazing cook! While slicing peppers, he accidentally stabs one of the fountain drink cups. "It's bleeding!" he says, to get daughter to clean it up. She's busy, so I reach in and cover the wound with my finger, taking the cup away to the sink. He has me pour it into the other cup instead.

And I learned something else about him. He throws nothing away. The cupboards have stacks of sour cream containers and empty cranberry juice bottles. All washed and waiting for a new purpose. Drives daughter nutsy.

Son and his girlfriend come in when movie 2 was almost over. Son is very friendly and sweet to me, like before the trouble. I'm relieved at that. They cozy up on the couch at the far end of the room to watch. At some of the raunchy parts, son shoots a glance at me, like he's not sure about how I'm reacting to such overtly sexual references with everyone there. I'm laughing, though, so he relaxes.

At the end of movie 2, I stand up to stretch. New Fella has movie 3 in his hand. "What's wrong? You don't have a third movie in you?" He's thinking I'm making moves to leave. I reassure him otherwise. I'll make a third movie just fine.

The end of the movie 3 was when things got....silly. It started with girlfriend and daughter cracking each other up. That uncontrolled giggle-laughter that people get when they're too tired and something just a little too silly happens. Tickles the funny bone, and won't stop. This is apparently something that happens with fair regularity! They are trying very hard to contain themselves, unsuccessfully.

And it makes me laugh.

Girlfriend notices and points to me. "Oh! We got [Blogget], too!" I just can't help it. Son looks astonished a blurts out, "They've infected you, too?" I gain my composure and say, "I'm sorry. It just spread."

Girlfriend started needling New Fella. "Come on," she's pointing at him. "You want to smile, too. You want to laugh." He's stoic. "I think I see it! Come on!" And he busts, too. Laughing, I reach over and touch his arm. No reaction, but he keeps laughing.

I stand and begin to make motions towards leaving. It's late and time to go home. Son looks at his sister and girlfriend as they try to compose themselves. He puts an arm around me. "This is so sad. My sister has corrupted her!"

"Tragic," I say.

He keeps shaking his head as he says, "You don't really care. You're one of them, aren't you?"

"Uhm...yes," I say, and send them into all new laughter.

Girlfriend walks past me and does a double-take, sniffing at me. "You smell good. What perfume do you wear?"

I tell her and she sniffs again. Son comes up and sniffs. "I don't smell anything," he says. "Where do you wear it?" He points at his wrist, which is the most likely spot he can think of.

"Back of neck," I say. "Where my hair can catch it."

He doesn't hesitate and actually sniffs the back of my neck. New Fella is watching this with a look of utter consternation.

Son says, "It's okay," and shrugs. Girlfriend gapes at him, and laughs. Now, I have a look of consternation. New Fella just covers his face and laughs.

"Oh what the ladies man you are," daughter says.

Son realizes his mistake and starts apologizing. "No, it's good! It's just....maybe I just couldn't smell it...." Oh lord, it's getting worse.

I turn to girlfriend. "I guess this means this isn't a perfume you should pick up." Son gives me a hug, again, and I head for the door. I wave at daughter.

"Bye Stinky," she says, laughing still.

At my car, New Fella apologizes for a "boring day." He always does this when we've been hanging out at his place. I shake my head. It's not boring. It's nice, I tell him. And tonight was a lot of fun. He's happy I've seen all those movies now.

A long, sweet, passionate kiss, that melts my toes. I think he disappeared to use mouthwash when we were sorting out the perfume thing. He asks what I have going on the next day. Tells me he's going to spend the day baking cheesecake (which is to die for, by all reports), for his mother's birthday and for someone at work. A short kiss, and "I'll see you tomorrow."

I'm fairly sure he meant "talk" tomorrow, though. But we know how well that goes....

So, that's a long story, for a pretty tame day. I think it was nice, though. I'm still kicking myself for some big missed opportunities, but trying to relax and make them not so big.