2002-11-06 - 8:55 p.m.
It’s a long story how all this started. Six long years of tales that ultimately end up with me hiding in some really uncomfortable spots while my Fantasy Boyfriend knocks on my door. The first few times he came over were legitimate, kind of, I know he wanted to spend some quiet time with me as much as I had wanted to spend time with him and fortunately I had a problem repairing my front steps and since he is in the business...well...he had offered his services. This was back in May. He would stop over, conveniently on my day off, to drop off supplies. Since I was adamant that I was going to do the actual labor on my own after I knew what I needed to buy and how to actually do it, he offered me free supplies from his shop. He would bring them one by one. “Forgetting” to bring them all in one fell swoop, he dragged it out for two months. For the first month we would sit on my deck for hours, just talking, sipping coffee. Then the whole E. whirlwind happened and I wasn’t home anymore or if I was home I was uh...occupied with the whirlwind's lips. Fantasy Boyfriend, upon hearing about E. through the grapevine at work, showed up one day while E. was visiting and quietly left a fifty pound bucket of cement in the middle of my sidewalk. My mother when noticing this said, “He sure is pissing on your trees isn’t he?” And he was, he was making sure people in the restaurant KNEW he was going to stop over, he would virtually shout across the restaurant, “I’ll be by at five, you better be home!” and all the men in the restaurant would whip around in their seats and stare with a look of disbelief. Again, my mother restated her pissing on trees comment and when I told her I LIKED his visits she looked at me and said, “Come on Whisper, you can’t be serious, you have this wonderful, worldly boy who brings you Chanel from Paris and you have this middle aged balding man who leaves cement in your yard, how can you possibly still be smitten with this man? It's cement vs. Chanel Whisper, cement vs. Chanel.” But I would never be able to give up my fantasy boyfriend. I know if it ever really came down to it I would never, not in a million years, have an affair with him. I fully understand that not only is he married and I am happily in love with the right person (E.), but I also understand that if things had been different, if he and I had both been single, there is no way in hell we ever would have ended up together. But I would never give up the way we are now, this is how it was meant to be, we wouldn’t have gotten along any other way other than this way and this way is great. I have this secret friend who has a life completely removed from mine who I get excited to see everyday, a person whose presence or lack of presence can make or break my day. I love E. but I would never give up my fantasy boyfriend.
Anyway, it’s been months since he last stopped by. I somehow knew that today he would stop by, I don’t know how, but in the back of my mind I kept saying to myself, “I should get dressed because S. might drop by.” But I didn’t, instead I took a bath, put a facial mask on, put on clean pajamas in which my nipples were quite visible and got back into bed with a book. That’s when I heard his truck pull into my drive. For normal people this isn’t a problem. But I have big glass doors on the front of my house that look directly into my bedroom. Again, if I were a normal person I would have curtains or blinds on this big glass front door of mine, but I’ve never quite gotten around to putting any up after I accidentally ripped them off a few years ago. So now, if someone is standing at my front door they can see right into my house and my bedroom. I had no time to jump up and close my bedroom door so I flew under the covers and stopped moving. I need to remember next time to make sure to leave a gap for air... which reminds me of the time this past summer when I was naked in my bathroom when he showed up unexpectedly and I had to hide in my shower for fifteen minutes, that time I had made a mental note to always keep a change of clothes in the bathroom for after my shower...anyway...back to today. By the time he finally stopped knocking, my guess was it lasted about five minutes, I was almost suffocated. Finally I was safe to get out of bed. I went to the bathroom and washed the mask off my face and then puttered around for an hour or so. Then the phone rang. I answer. “Hey Cockroach, (this is his pet name for me....don’t ask) this is S., I’m right down the road from your house and I’m stopping over in a minute.” he tells me.
“Oh, hey S., actually, I was just leaving,” I lie trying to deter him from stopping over again because I still have my PJ’s on and I am a complete WRECK, mismatched socks, no underwear or bra, my hair is matted and greasy...and he says....
“Oh, well, I guess I’ll just swing by anyway, I want to measure your back door because my brother has some storm doors and I know you need a new one, I’m sorry I’ll miss you, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.
“Uh, yeah...tomorrow, actually, you won’t I have two days off this week, today and tomorrow” I reply while quickly trying to find my bra at least. I figured I had about two seconds to put some clothes on and get the hell out of my house. I ended up just throwing clothes willy nilly into my backpack and running out of the house in my pajama top and gym pants pulled over my pajama bottoms. Then I drove in my disheveled and panicked state to my mothers house where I sat for an hour pouring out all the stuff that has been going through my mind lately, just a huge, loud download of everything that has been making feel as though I need to be in a mental institution. She just looked at me and said, “Oh, you’re just having a bad bout with Uranus, it really affects Sagittarians,” which I found at once amusing (your having a bad bout with Uranus) and my cue to go back home.
So he called again, this afternoon, told me he “forgot” to measure the inside of the door when he had stopped by earlier and would be stopping by early in the morning to do so. He said he’d be really quiet so as not to wake me up and I told him not to worry, I always get up early and so he said, “Good, have the coffee ready.”
Apparently he’s pissing on my trees again.|
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