Sunday, March 21, 2010

In which Primo and I have our second date but it's only our first date by his count

I don't want you to have a false impression of Primo based on his not paying for lunch. We went dutch and I was annoyed, but after that, he paid for everything, including my flights to visit him, which even the Moroccan millionaire did not do. Primo is generous to a fault (I don't think it's necessary for him to send wine to Sly, for example) and has always been berry, berry good to me. At our first Christmas, which was right after we started dating, he got me diamond earrings. He does, however, continue to be maddeningly slow about getting what should be easy emails out. I speak truth to power here, people.

Thanksgiving, 2005 I have been getting up in the middle of the night to see if Primo has sent me another email from his mom and dad's house, where he has gone for Thanksgiving. This should have been a big clue that we have major differences in our sleeping patterns - that Primo did not send his emails until late, late in the night while I was already in bed, but all I could think about was that he was a major hottie who was extry smart and could write. What a seductive combination for an English major like moi.

He asks if he can see me again on his return trip. He will take an earlier flight to my city to have a longer layover if I am available. He will arrive noonish, which means I will have to take the afternoon off from work. Again. Like I care. Maybe this layoff wasn't such a bad thing. I tell him yes. Yes I said yes.

Little do I know that this is probably what plants the first seeds of dislike in Sly and Doris' mind. I have already begun to steal their Only Joy from them. Now that he is away from Bertha (but not yet divorced - oh does that turn out to be a pain in the neck) he should be spending all his free time with them. Now he is leaving their house early to see That Woman?

I have no idea that their dislike will be so strong and immediate. I have always gotten along with the families of my boyfriends. Well, the Moroccan millionaire's aunt wasn't crazy about me - she wouldn't speak English or even French around me and wouldn't look at me, but like that relationship was going anywhere?

My college boyfriend to whom I was engaged for a while but didn't marry and then five years later married one of my sophomore year roommates but the statute of limitations on dating your friend's boyfriends had already passed so that was fine had parents who were not thrilled about me, but it was more of a "If you marry her while you are both 21 then you might not get your PhD." They were probably right.

Even though I ate his mom's salad once (who knew liquids right solids left? I didn't) by mistake and another time I tried to open a crab leg and sent it flying like a tiddlywink over my shoulder, splattering butter on not only me and the silk blouse I had borrowed from the friend to whom I gave socks as a wedding gift but also on his mother, his parents were never mean to me. They were always gracious and he never gave me feedback that they had said anything negative about me. His mom did put paper towels in the guest bathroom once after I had used the good towel, but it was the only towel in their and I thought, "I'm the guest. Aren't the guest towels for me?" No, I guess the guest towels were purely decorative and I should have wiped my hands on my pants.

Other families really liked me. College boyfriend's parents were nice, but just didn't want him to marry so young. Other boyfriend families thought I was great - one boyfriend's brother and sister in law even told him he wasn't allowed to visit unless he brought me.

So. I had no idea that a boyfriend's family could be so hostile. I was walking into the lions' den expecting kittens. Ha.

Back to our date. I pick Primo up at the airport again. We go for lunch and this time he pays. Then he wants to look in this wine store we passed on the way to lunch. Another obsession revealing itself but fine. As we walk inside, I tell him that my hands are cold and he needs to warm them. Oh yes I am soooo smooth. And again not a Rules girl. But we have this fabulous chemistry and he is doing nothing. Nothing!

So he holds my hand and I get all woozy, so when we go back outside, I tell him I think he needs to kiss me.

Primo takes certain orders very well. On most things, I am not the boss of him and I cannot get him to do what I want (throw away the crap in the basement, finish the taxes early so we can get our refund) but in this case, he complies without complaint.

His flight does not leave for two hours. I ask what he wants to do until then. "We could go to another museum," I suggest. We had gone to one after lunch on our first date that was not a date.

He does not respond enthusiastically.

"Or we could go back to my house and neck," I say.

He likes Option Two. Am I being easy?

3 comments:

  1. Well sure you were being easy. What's wrong with that?

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  2. I love the way you write, this is such a fantastically touching post.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Richard, yeah! What's wrong with being easy?

    Thank you, MHOP!

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