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Of Dates and Garden States

For some reason, going over to Renee’s (that's what I have decided to nickname her) house on Friday night was giving me some anxiety. I was more nervous than a hooker in church… and I don’t know why. Maybe because I was unsure of where she lived and didn’t want to appear foolish. You see, usually I map out everything ahead and make a dry run to the location before I end up going. Well, I didn’t have time to do that in this case.

Anyhow, I have my map and my directions and I head out into the great unknown. But first, I stop at the store and pick up some beer. Now, I know you’re thinking this is what screwed me up (keep reading) but it really didn’t.

So I’m traveling along with my instructions and I get down this really long and winding road (Beatles!) and I’m thinking to myself “this can’t be right”. One of her instructions to me was to go all the way to the end of “North Whatever Blvd”. So I get all the way out to the end of this road and I decide to call her.

“This can’t be right,” I tell her. I explain to her what I did. She says, “Oh, you’re on North Whatever ROAD” you need to be on “North Whatever BLVD”. So I drive back down this winding road again and continue down the right path.

Now, in my defense “North Whatever ROAD” had a brightly lit sign in big bold letters -- the "North Whatever" part not the ROAD part. It was well represented. In contrast, I could barely see the sign for “North Whatever BLVD” because it was set back a few feet from the road and obscured by trees. I’m just saying…

Anyhow, I finally find the place and drive in to her nice little neighborhood. She has a newer home that really puts mine to shame. Now I’m afraid to bring her over here to see my place. If I was embarrassed before, I’m even more so now.

She gives me the ‘nickel tour’ of the downstairs as her daughter is asleep upstairs and she doesn’t want to disturb her. She has a wide screen, high def TV with DirecTV and a good DVD player. She tells me how she won the TV at a super bowl party of one of her father’s clients. Nice.

We talk for a little while on her couch. We politely sip our beers. I have brought two DVD’s with me that I suggest we can watch – or not. I brought “Little Miss Sunshine” and “Garden State”. She thoughtfully reads the back of both of them and decides on Zach Braff’s ode to New Jersey.

“Is it funny?” she asks. “In places” I tell her “but it’s not an all-out comedy”. I really like this film because of its quirky nature and the poignant moments. So we're all about "Garden State".

The film ends and she says she likes it, but I still don’t know her well enough to know if all the sentiment is there. I just don’t know. We talk a little more and she flips channels on the TV. By this time, Letterman is on. Neither of us can remember the last time we watched Letterman. The TV played in the background and we talked some more.

At some point, we could hear what appeared to be footsteps upstairs. She bolted up from the couch and sprinted up the stairs (scared the crap out of my when she scrambled off the couch). She called to her daughter and was gone for a minute or two to settle her back down.

I felt a little bad while sitting on the couch as she attended to her daughter. I felt like I was keeping her awake, I felt like I was stealing time that could have been spent with her daughter (I know – it was past the kids bed-time). I felt a little weird at that moment.

Renee returned and apologized for the interruption. “She never wakes up in the middle of the night” she assured me. I couldn’t help but think that the daughter could somehow sense my presence.

It was getting nigh on to 1am and the conversation hit just the right kind of lull that I could excuse myself to leave. So I stood up to leave and she followed me to the door.

We talked about getting together again but had no specific plans. We spoke in whispers at the bottom of the stairs, stealing glances up toward the light in her daughter’s room that spilled into the hallway.

“I want to do this again” I said “is that okay?”

“Yes” she replied “that’s okay”. Her arm was leaning up against the newel post at the bottom of the stairs.

I leaned in to kiss her and she didn’t back away. I kissed her once, twice… again. Her stance never changed. I backed away for half a second and then kissed her again. Her stance never changed.

The kisses were soft and nice but I wondered if she was so tired that she was letting me ‘get away’ with kissing her. I don’t care – I kissed her and it was good.

I went out the front door and said my goodbyes. She didn’t look unhappy. As she closed the door I headed for my car in the driveway and almost took a header on the low-lying shrubs that lined the walkway. I looked back to find that she hadn’t seen me go through the 7 basic ballet movements to avoid falling down.

It feels right, it feels good but there’s that nagging feeling I get when I leave her. I want to see her more but I feel like I’m an interruption in her life and not a new addition that she wants to learn more about. I DO NOT mean that to sound mean-spirited; this is just my opinion.

There was only one disturbing fact I learned (and I rationalized it away pretty quickly) and that was: she’s not officially divorced yet. She will be in the next 2 weeks, though. I told her she should do something special on that day.

The way I rationalized it was that her situation was due to a paperwork snafu. She explained how she sent papers to her soon-to-be ex-husband and he held on to them for 4 months because he’s a procrastinator. So he finally signs them and it turns out that the State has changed forms in that 4-month period and they won’t honor the paperwork. So all new paperwork is filled out and that is what she is prepared to sign in the next few weeks.

Feel better now? I know I do.

Those 7 basic movements? Plier, to bend; étendre, to stretch; relever, to rise; sauter, to leap; élancer, to dart; glisser, to glide; and tourner, to turn

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