Thursday, May 31, 2007

You are Weird, Quiet Man

During this time of my experience with Quiet Man, I felt like a weird routine had formed- I would see him at these events, and I would begin to befriend Fred. Through Fred, I had learned different things and yet nothing more about Quiet Man, all at Fred’s offering.

Prior to this celebration event, I had seen Quiet Man and Fred. It was again at the Italianate wedding hall. It was an important event, in fact a better celebration than the one I previously mentioned.

Fred made these boring things exiting only because he was so enthused about going. He had to be the best dressed, frequently commenting that he never wore the same suit twice and each suit he wore along with its matching pair of shoes, was new. He made the same comment for Quiet Man. This led me to think weird things about Fred.

The night at the Italianate wedding hall, I had to be somewhere else, which I really did not want to attend that something else.

I was dressed more formally that night. I had pulled my hair back to the middle of the back of my head and let the rest of it, which was curled into long bouncy banana curls, drape down my back. I had on a formal cardigan white sweater that was bejeweled with some nice fake glass and embroidery on the front. The sweater was balanced by a dark blue skirt and I had on a pair of high heeled open toed mules whose straps where covered in what my niece believes in her little six year old heart are diamonds. My deep glossy fuchsia toes matched, as you know by now, my favorite color of lipstick: a deep fuchsia.

So, I must have been a sight and not to be missed. I walked into the main dining room, trying not to kill myself on the marble floors. Damned those floors were slippery.

The room was lit like a Christmas tree; every chandelier with its hanging rectangular glass ornaments was fully lit. The music was playing loudly and people were milling about.

As I walked in, I looked around to see who I knew.

Hmmm. I saw a local attorney dressed in jeans, open white shirt and a pair of well worn summer sandals. What a sight! Of course when he greeted me I had to tell him he looked very good since I had not seen him in a long time. How odd is it to be diplomatic, isn’t it?

Now the odd thing about these gatherings is that Quiet Man has not any interest or reason to attend. He merely accompanies Fred who has his reasons besides his ego to attend. I and my family attend for our own valid reasons and would be there regardless.

I looked around and saw my mother who had probably arrived at the place before the staff even thought about setting up for the evening. I have previously mentioned her penchant for arriving early.

She was squeezed in next to Fred and another man and his wife. I felt sorry for that poor wife, for when my mother decides to catch the attention of a man, forget the woman they may be with. She has the charm, of I don’t know what, as to how to catch an keep the steady attention of a man. My mother is 79 year old widow who looks 50, so that helps her along very well. Despite all her heavy duty flirting for attention’s sake, she has never looked at another man in any other way other than as a partner
(or victim) in her insatiable need to communicate. My mother is a one man woman, despite her intensely alluring femininity and bird like voice. She has always been this way my entire life.

I called out to my mother, who, as usual when engrossed in holding court, ignored me. I was hesitant to go to the table because Quiet Man was on the other side of Fred. And besides, there was no room at the table. Fred was engrossed in conversation with my mother and the man on the other side of her. Tried as he might, Fred could not break the hold my mother had on the gentleman while she talked and talked to him. I should have later told Fred not to feel bad because the man’s wife had even less success.

“Mom” I said as I stood next to her, “Mom!”

It took me to grab her shoulder to loosen the conversational lock jaw she had.

She was utterly unconcerned that there was no room at the table. I did not greet Fred, nor Quiet Man, who had left the table to get up and go somewhere.

“Mom, are you going to get up and get a new table?” I asked her. I was not going to sit at this table and I wanted to start a table for us and others who had not arrived.

She continued to ignore me, except waved her hand, which was down by her side, to shoo me away.

Fred had gotten up on his feet to say hello to me.

“Hello, sweetheart, good to see you” he said as he kissed me on the cheek, “Quiet Man is here, so why don’t you sit next to him?”

“Why?” I said, “There is not room for me at this table.”

“We will make room, sweetheart, don’t worry,” he said as he shoved another seat next to Quiet Man’s seat and this woman who I instantly disliked when I laid eyes on her.

“Sit down, Muse!” demanded my mother as she continued to talk to her victim. My mother continues to believe, most strongly in social situation, that I am still two years of age.

I sat down, with an empty seat between myself and Fred. The woman next to me spilled over from her seat and onto me, without a care in the world. I was getting agitated. I am sitting in a seat that was squished into the table that really could not hold another place and this loud, obnoxious woman who was carrying on her own conversation was using part of my thigh as her seat.

Fred had turned and said something to this woman. She immediately turned and literally bellowed her answer into my ear! I got up in disgust, threw her off of me and pushed my chair away from the table.

“Muse, where are you going?” asked Fred.

“Where I will not get my ear drums screamed into!” I said not caring if the woman heard me or not.

I was thoroughly disgusted. I found an empty table and sat down. I looked over at the table I just left and there was Quiet Man, sitting there quietly. He did not acknowledge me or call me over; he just looked at me with this penetrating look. He would look away and look again. It was annoying. Was he going to leave that damned table and come over to me or not? No? Ok.

My brother and his girl friend, Arin, came over to me. Prior to this, a very handsome business man sauntered over to say hello to me. I had hoped Quiet Man was watching. This man was tall with a formidable build-he fills out his suits very well. He was nice. Married men usually are when their wives are not around. He offered to get me a glass of wine. That was his usual marching orders when he saw me at these things. I usually declined, but this time I accepted. So off he went to fetch the wine. Quiet Man was watching but this scenario did not entice him to move from where he was; how annoying.

I was chatting with Arin, and Tim, the handsome man with the wine, dropped the glass off to me and bid his farewell to go and find other people he for which he probably wanted to buy wine.

My brother asked where our mother was; I indicated yonder with a tilt of my head. I kept talking to the girlfriend.

Eventually my mother decided to leave her captive audience and made her way to my table to sit with me and the others who had arrived.

She did not stay very long and returned to Fred’s table. Fred and Quiet Man, during her sojourn away from them, kept to themselves. I guess Fred who now had the gentleman my mother was monopolizing all to himself was unable to keep up the momentum my mother left.

After I was done discussing nothing with Arin, I sat down at the table to drink the wine Tim had bought for me. I sat there sipping it, swishing it and then sipping again.

My cell rang and the person was asking why I was not at event number two- I told them I would get there when I was done at event number one.

I looked over at my mother laughing and animated at Fred’s table. Quiet Man had risen again-was he coming over to me? No. He started to walk down the aisle between the rows of tables. I took my wine glass and left my table.

As Quiet Man was leaving the room, I walked over to my mother.

Quiet Man had been leaving the table to smoke.

Fred got up from his seat to stand and talk to me. Behind Fred, was a wall of glass to the outside. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Quiet Man walk the length of the building; he stopped behind Fred. All the other smokers congregated at the door at the other end of the building. Now he, for all to see, was standing alone, on the other side of the glass, facing me.

Fred was jibber jabbering and probably thought I was intently paying attention to him while I was watching Quiet Man who was in my direct view.

What is wrong with this quiet man? His behavior is odd. It does not fit, it’s off.

Quiet Man had a cigarette lit; his figure is imposing. He stood at a stance. He crossed his left arm over his chest and stood there, staring, peering through the glass at me. He only moved his right arm from being draped across his left, to raise it to his mouth to take a drag. He never diverted his eyes. He never moved from his stance. He stood there for the duration of his smoke, taking a drag and letting out the smoke from his mouth in a slow, steady stream.

For all Quiet Man knew, I was looking at Fred while speaking with him. I was laughing and giggling at any ridiculous thing Fred had said.

When Quiet Man finished his cigarette, he turned to walk back to the door. I took this cue to break away from Fred.

When the organizers of the event where going to make their big announcement, they called people to the dance floor. I saw Fred with Quiet Man lingering behind him jump to the center of the squared off parquet flooring, in the center of the room with the roaming colored lights that were still swishing back and forth over the very spot, where only moments before, adults in formal attire where dirty dancing with each other.

I stood next to Fred who was a bit of a distance from Quiet Man. Fred, true to himself, asks me why I did not go over to Quiet Man and say hello. I rolled my eyes into my head. Slowly, as he was talking to me, Fred made side steps towards Quiet Man.

It was awkward- Fred’s side steps, the people gathering around us, me not wanting to side step, and well, I ended up in a line formation with Quiet Man and Fred in between.

True to Quiet Man form, he looks at me and reached over with his broad smile to kiss me hello. We started to chat about how he was completely disinterested in these things; Fred stopped paying attention to an announcement that had yet to arrive. I commented to them that they had on the same pair of shoes. It was odd. Fred who was much shorter than Quiet Man looking like him; I told them they reminded me of Arnold S. Danny D. on Twins.

Quiet Man was pleasant enough that night-though unusually quiet for him. As I stood next to him during announcements, since Fred had left us, we made small talk and listened to whatever dopey things were being said. He spoke to me while still looking at what was going-on on the floor. I did the same, but I felt like he was looking down into my sweater when I was not looking at him, which was easy enough because he was much taller than I was even with the diamond mules I was wearing. When I caught his downward gaze, I shifted my position to face him.

Fred had returned from listening at front and center, his favorite spot in any venue.

I announced I had to go somewhere else that night so I was leaving early. Fred was more concerned than Quiet Man. Fred was not pleased I was leaving. He goaded, cajoled and hen pecked Quiet Man to meet up with me where I was going to go and have drinks. Drinks, Fred’s idea of a sexy night out I think.

I ignored Quiet Man, who agreed to this pushiness by his friend Fred. Fred asked me how to get where I was going, I told him and Quiet Man was now interested in the announcements that resumed again.

“Yes, yes, Freddy, I know where it is, I know” said Quiet Man who was acting odd.

“Fine, I will be there regardless if you come or do not” I retorted, addressing Fred only.

“Oh, we will be there!” said Fred, “We just want to see what happens next here.”

Well, it turned out that they did not arrive and I should have stayed at event number one for event number two ended earlier than planned and it was a complete waste of my time.

It was after this event, that Fred made his first direct approach to tell me Quiet Man likes you, Muse!

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Fred Is Your Friend, Quiet Man

I was talking today with a friend about Quiet Man. She is updated with every new manly experience I go through, regardless of how ridiculous. She said to me I had told her about him grabbing and rubbing my arm while he joked with me. I don't even remember that, and come to think of it, as long as this story is, I don't remember a lot of what has gone on with Quiet Man.

What I do remember is what I write about, and perhaps a bit more which I do not.

In between all these events with Quiet Man, you will have to know that I and Fred were beginning to be friends of sorts, if you can do that with married men. I know that some women, wives in particular, have the most negative thoughts on this topic, but I know its a completely do-able scenario and quite frankly, there is nothing to it, other than the enjoyment of conversation. Any wife who cannot fathom that, has her own issues to work out.

I believe it was after the party at the home of the man with the famous mother, that during one of our conversations, sans the sordid topics I got Fred to stop telling me about-he is quite the character that one-Fred tells me that Quiet Man likes me; now what a revelation for Fred that must have been. Actually, it just proves my theory that men gossip more than women or more than they want women to know.

"Muse, Quiet Man likes you!" he exclaimed to me, looking me right in the eye with a big smile.

He looked at me looking at him. I had a blank expression which Fred was expecting to erupt into some sort of giggly delight.

Fred kept looking at me. He was persistent.

This was a more direct approach than the previous visits with Fred. If Fred answered his phone and I would hear Quiet Man's' voice, Fred would talk to Quiet Man and look at me, look away and then look at me during the conversation.

"OK, Quiet Man. Yes, let's do it; whatever needs to be done. Yes, yes, OK, talk to you later" Fred would state. Then Fred would put down the phone and look at me and say, "Oh, that was Quiet Man". Duh, Fred.

Other times Fred would announce that Quiet Man was arriving in the parking lot, and each time I would make an excuse and say I had to leave. I could not handle seeing Quiet Man and Fred, together, with me, alone in Fred's place of business.

I knew if Quiet Man saw me, any allure I faked with him would be out in the open for all the fakeness I had mustered trying to impress him. In short, I would have acted like a complete social cripple and rather than suffer that reputation in Quiet Man's eyes, I would rather depart and leave a mystery about myself behind. Whew!

The short sentence formed by Fred, "Quiet Man likes you", was like a dead weight in the air.

"Hmmph" I mustered, looking for a verbal exit. My eyes wandered upward and I could not control a nervous laugh.

"Look, Fred," I said, "Are you going to the celebration or not?"

I knew I could divert Fred's attention to Fred's favorite topic: Fred.

Fred loves attention, of any sort. He is kind and gentle but with a madman call to action with the most ridiculous ego centric view of his world. His rich world. His ostentatiousness to him is a mild reserve. Nothing he says is timid or unimportant. The way he sees it, nothing he does is of little import. All is all to Fred and he is his one and all. That, in a nutshell, is Fred.

"Sweetheart," he said since I caught his attention, " You know I go to all-How much is it? You know I don't care-money is no object, you know."

"Didn't you get your invitation?" I asked.

"Yes- well, when is it?" he admitted.

"Fred," I said leaning in to him, looking into his eye, " It's next Thursday at his office."

Well that was the next time I saw Quiet Man. At that party. And wow, I remember that night. I don't remember him rubbing my arm and getting all exited about it as my friend said I was, but I remember that next meeting.

Monday, May 28, 2007

You Are Charming, Quiet Man

My brother was talking to the animated Fred, who when he talks, likes to keep his right hand in his pocket while his suit jacket is buttoned. For some reason, when he does that, it reminds me of a 1960's James Bond.

Fred had waved hello to me. I smiled broadly and waved hello to Fred. My friend excused himself and went back into the front hallway. I did not see him the rest of the night.

I approached Fred and my brother, who finished up speaking with Fred and went on to talk to someone else in the house. Fred kissed me on the cheek hello and made some small chit chat with me. He told me Belina was there by motioning behind him where she was on the couch; I waved hello to her. Fred then made it a point to tell me Quiet Man was also with him and told me to say hello to him. I ignored Fred when he was saying this and changed the conversation to Fred which works every time with Fred.

Why should I approach Quiet Man? I don't approach men first, its just the way I am-sometimes. Anyway, he needs to work for it was how I felt.

After I was done speaking with Fred, I had entered the billiards room where they had on display various items, paraphernalia that the owner had apparently paid alot for and was very proud of because he also had little cards made up like in a museum about the stuff. I caroused over the items and had not one little bit of envy for any of it.

I entered the living room and Quiet Man was no where in sight, but Belina was still sitting on the couch, alone. I wondered why she even came; she did not know anyone except Fred and Quiet Man and was not involved in any of this group's activities. And she was not talking to either of them.

I approached Belina and said hello to her. She seemed very grateful that I came over to her. She is as I said before, quite striking, even with her out of the bottle blond hair. I had not planned to have a full blown out conversation with Belina, so I did not sit down with her.

As I turned around to head into the kitchen, there was Quiet Man behind me, up against the wall he was holding up before.

His smile was broad and friendly.

"Aaah" he said in that sultry accent of his, "Good evening." My heart raced and I felt my face flush.

I smiled as he reached for my hand. He kissed it, and when his head came back up, his eyes
looked into mine as if what he saw made his smile broader.

He pointed out that we were both drinking wine. I told him when my friend and I went to the bar, they suggested the merlot, which was smooth as silk. He had the same in his glass.

While I was talking to Quiet Man,this little annoying creepy man who I had met at another party earlier in the year was there that night. He hit on me that first night and he was drinking. He knew Quiet Man and called him by name. Quiet Man acknowledged him in an un-important way.

The Creep could not shut up nor stop interrupting us. He imposed by asking me for my card. I told him I already gave it to him, but reached into my bag to shut him up. He then asks Quiet Man, why does he get the good looking ones. I was incensed, and turned around and said to him because you are married and he is not! Quiet Man laughed and just looked at the Creep while he left.

Quiet Man escorted me into the kitchen. They had stopped serving hor douvres and began dinner, buffet style. By the time Quiet Man and I entered the kitchen, there were not any seats, so we took to the counter where they were preparing the food. They served us rather than us serving ourselves, which was nice.

Quiet Man took a plateful of lamb-yuck, I was thinking-lamb makes me gag. I was served sliced steak and some vegetables.

Quiet Man only had the lamb. "It's my favorite" he relished in his accented voice, while he ate it with his hands. I thought it was odd, he used his hands.

Fred, Belina and my mother were seated at the kitchen table, which looked more like a dining room table. I felt sort of odd, standing there with Quiet Man, since everyone else was seated. I knew the caterer and he kept staring at me, while directing his crew, which made me uncomfortable. The caterer is a gossip.

Quiet Man and I were engrossed in conversation. We spoke about cars, travel and politics. It was hard to keep my mind on what he was saying because he has this way about him when he looks at me. His eyes are kind, yet fixated. He seems unfettered by anyone else around him and by what he does. If he wanted to look, he looked. If he wanted to stare, he stared. He was so full of a stoic self confidence, it oozed from him. It was intriguing.

It was hard to eat while he ate and watched me. He was advising me of his travels to England where I once lived. He mentioned he goes to England often. For what? For cars, Jaguars, he said.

He laughed at anything I might have said in error due to how he un-nerves me. While he was licking the fat from the lamb off of his fingers, while thinking why did he eat with his hands, he did it in such a sensual manner, or I was just imagining it was.

After he finished his lamb, he was done. He did not take dessert, despite the chocolate fountain they had. Out of nervousness, I picked a couple of peices of fruit and dipped them into the chocolate.

My mother at this point was interrogating Fred and Belina and I heard Belina say to to my mother that whether he wants to believe it or not, she has a boyfriend! Now the boyfriend was in some other country, so the whole Fred-Belina thing was really weird.

After while, Fred and Belina rose from the table and joined Quiet Man and I. Again Fred, like a hanging Albatross, goads Quiet Man into taking me out for a drink. Quiet Man had laughed and jokingly said "let's go!" but I chided him that since my mother was with me, he had to bring her as well-HA!

After Fred and Belina with the boyfriend in another land left us, Quiet Man looks at me and shakes his head asking me to go outside with him while he has a smoke.

We went through the paneled french doors to the patio. He lead and I followed. I was more than giddy with delight! His charm was overwhelming to me, and I could not get enough of it at all.

It was a chilly night. I took a look around and admired the brick patio with the nice furniture.

I sat on one of the brick steps and Quiet Man stood in front of me, putting his foot next to me while he lit up.

The moon light was beautiful and I can't remember what we spoke about. My phone rang. It was an old boyfriend who was now married looking to see what I was doing. It was about 9:30 pm and he lives in another part of the country. I was annoyed he interrupted my time with Quiet Man who was interested in who called me. I told him off handedly and continued on.

I was happy we got along and were able to endlessly converse, but again, we were interrupted.

It was Belina. She made her excuses to me and told Quiet Man she had to leave.

When she went back inside, I was turned to watch her go.

Quiet Man reaches for me to help me up and inside. He told me he was sorry he had to leave. I was getting annoyed.

While inside, Belina was explaining to me she had to go home to pack since she had an early flight to Europe the next morning. She kept telling Quiet Man to bring her home and return to me, which he begged off from doing.

I was standing there in disbelief.

I was thinking why in the heck did Belina come if she had an early flight and had to pack? Fred was in full agreement. I felt like slapping Fred.

So, the night ended with Quiet Man kissing me on my cheek good bye and hurriedly following Fred and Belina out the front door.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

I See You, Quiet Man

I am continuing this story as I commented earlier to its dire conclusion to illustrate how utterly confounding I find the opposite sex most times. I do find myself in these push me pull me scenarios for reasons I don’t understand, and it tires me, mentally.

I believe the next time I was to see Quiet Man was at a get together at the house of a man whose mother is famous. This man apparently gets money from his mother, but with that kind of cash, who could blame him?

After the fall bash, I spoke to Fred who explained that they came in late and had to leave early. They had another event in a neighboring state that night which was for Quiet Man to attend. Why Fred even gave me an explanation, I don’t know. I did not inquire about anything from him.

I could not help myself the night of the next event. I rushed home early to get ready. I was frustrated that I had not given any thought to what I was going to wear. I was mad at myself for even caring and worse yet, wanting to see Quiet Man again. What was wrong with me?

The hot rollers were frying my head, but I hoped the curl would be tight. After throwing everything I had in my closet out of my way trying to find something I had not worn before, I settled on black pants and a long sleeved copper sparkled top. The sparkle was more like copper sugar, not ostentatious.

I took the rollers out in a hurry and my hair was tangled. I was trying to put on false eyelashes-they would not go on straight. I ripped them off, put them on and ripped them again. I kept feeling like one end was going to pop up and I would not know it, causing me to walk around with a section of eyelash over my eye that would be like an old curled shoe. Sick and tired of my eyes being stuck with eyelash glue in between rips, I smashed on the troublesome lash and hoped for the best.

I looked at the clock. I was, as usual, running late. I slathered my lips with a deep fuchsia tinted rouge made by Chanel.

My mother was getting a ride from me for that evening. Along the ride, she was complaining like only a mother who can get under your skin can; she has this concern about arriving extremely early-I was trying to explain to her she was not going to a restaurant where it does not matter if you get there early, she was going to someone’s house, err, mansion. She had decided to use this annoying time together to tell me in her flat disapproving tone she did not like Quiet Man. It was not a surprise, for reasons I will not divulge.

We had gotten lost on the long winding roads to the house. There was no one to ask and it was getting dusky. My mother of course was complaining since it was past the time of arrival as stated on the invitation. Each house on the road was set back far from the road and far from each of their neighbors.

At the top of the hill was a cul-de-sac. I pulled over and decided to stop a car descending from the long, long driveway belonging to a monstrous house. An older four door Mercedes being driven by a crazy blond sped into the cul-de-sac and had arrived at the apron of the long driveway as the car driving down the driveway arrived from the other end. Blah-Blah-Blah, she went with her window down.

She swung her car around the circle and flagged me on. Oh, she was going where we were going. It turned out our host lived off the cul-de-sac and I was right in front of their driveway which looked more like a path into the woods. His house was being custom built and they had not finished the drive.

As we approached up the drive, we saw the cars parked along the grass. I saw an antique Rolls. Fred and Quiet Man were there already. I pulled up next to the garage and found a spot. Before that, I had let my anxious mother out of the car at the front of the house so she would not lose one more precious second to get into the party.

I checked my rear view mirror. Apparently I needed more fuchsia rouge by Chanel. I whipped it out of my evening bag which was crammed to begin with; I decided to spray on more perfume, just in case the walk to the front door, eroded the scent. Walking around the garage, I saw my mother.

“Why are you out here?”

“I can’t find the front door!”


I looked and sure enough there were two doors that both looked like front doors. What kind of house was this?

I told her we were going to pick one. We did and we entered the house, which was lit like a Christmas Tree on the inside.

The entrance hall was quite small for the size of the house. We were greeted and asked to take our coats. I had on, of all things, a black down vest! I decided to keep it on, because for some reason, it looked good with my outfit. I am quirky at times. My mother gave up her frock and went inside to chat to her heart’s content.

I walked around for a bit; they were actually giving “tours” of the house, but I was not interested. This was not a historic mansion, but whatever floats their boat. Everyone knew the money that built this house came from the host’s famous mother.

A friend of mine who I had not seen for a long time, rushed over to me to talk. We were both surprised to see the other at this house. We exchanged stories as to how we made it there and we walked to the bar to get some wine. It was fantastic. It had an unusual name for a merlot. I remembered the name for a while but was not able to ever find it at all.

We stood in a doorway, sipping the delicious wine. As is my habit, as I was talking and listening to my friend, who is married and did not bring his wife, I scanned the room. I saw Fred intensely conversing with my brother. Fred raised his eyebrow to acknowledge me. Belina was sitting on a leather couch by herself. Ah, Fred brought Belina again.

I saw Quiet Man. He was leaning against an adjacent doorway close by Belina. He had a drink in his hand. He lifted it to his mouth, sipped it and returned it to its previous position by the top of his thigh. He was watching me but did not acknowledge me. That was fine with me, because my friend was attractive and alone. The impression of us together was enough to keep Quiet Man’s attention while he nursed his drink. As his hand rose to provide his mouth with a sip, his eyes darted to me, watching me.

It was very odd.

Friday, May 18, 2007

So Minty..............

For those of you who like illustration/film, go and check out Minty's (a cone) blog about Alina who made a commercial about him that is just adorable.

Thursday, May 17, 2007

Quiet Man, You Will Be Ignored Part II

As I was drinking the red wine, I was trying to monitor the entrance, make interesting small talk and trying to scan the hall to see who else was there.

They had started to serve food. People where going back and forth with plates full of flat, tubular pasta stained with the remnants of what once may have been a more moist tomato sauce; some had chosen the strip sautéed chicken passing as some sort of gourmet meat dish.

I took my seat at the round table. All of the tables where round. Some where put into a circle so that the middle formed a round area some round people where using to dance in the round.

Rob had come to the table at this point and after some idle chit chat, I went to get a plate of salad and topped it with the strip chicken. While going back to my seat, I scanned the room again.

I saw Fred, Belina and Quiet Man looking for a table. They were at the far end, very far away. Eh, I thought and seated myself with my group.

Our host chose this moment to make a speech and part of which involved me having to rise from my seat while he spoke. I saw Quiet Man from the corner of my eye looking at me.

Hmmph! The nerve I thought. The nerve!

After the speech, people began to mull about. A man came to table who knew my brother. He was a flashy man, full of confidence. He was very animated and took a quick interest. I decided to rise from my seat so Quiet Man, who was watching, could see this interaction, though he could not hear all the on the spot compliments the man bestowed, while my brother rolled his eyes in his head. He is not used to his friends complimenting his sister as a female.

As my brother had to continue to roll his eyes because his friend was acting 18, and as I was forcing the customary giggles and “Oh, No’s!” that are such a salve to the egos of men, I turned to see what Quiet Man was doing; he, Fred and Belina were rising to leave. At this moment my mind went blank. Liam, the false compliment giver, was chattering so much, he never even noticed my attention was momentarily diverted and certainly did not catch on that his usefulness to me at that very minute was expended on the spot.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

Quiet Man, You Will Be Ignored

I watched Quiet Man leave. I was annoyed at Fred. He had some celebration he had to go to at home; Quiet Man was very into that Fred had to get home to his family for this celebration. I was like, a celebration for that, at this time of year? Odd. I wonder if Belina thought it was odd-I thought it was odd she was there/not there with Fred.

I was annoyed since, prior to them leaving, I was garnering up my courage to not to be so cold. I was throwing around in my mind what I was going to cleverly say to Quiet Man, I should say something intriguing I thought, and in the middle of this plan I was concocting in my mind to be utterly captivating, Fred announced his departure. Quiet Man had filled me in on the celebration information while Fred was adamantly apologizing for leaving but he had to get back to his house to celebrate. Belina was sitting quietly and oblivious. Unfazed, actually.

So I was pondering my annoyance, the oddity of Fred, Belina & Quiet Man. Now that they left, the event suddenly was very boring, as it should have been.

Quiet Man and Fred both work close to where I work. I never really paid attention to those areas but as with all things shiny and new, I was more attentive to their proximity. Quiet Man had mentioned something about coming to see me at work during his talk with me that evening. I took this as an off the cuff remark.

He never stopped by. Nor did he call.

I had not thought much about Quiet Man until the next time I knew I would see him-at another event. I was not going to get annoyed. I am a fiercely independent woman. I am my own person. I so hate that.

The last event the trio knew the people; this event was on my turf-they were the new people and they would not have any opportunity to blend in at all. I took some satisfaction in that.

As I was getting ready, I thought I would completely ignore this man. I would ignore him as I felt he ignored me. I would snub this Quiet Man and snub him so forcefully he would break his silence in loud protest which would fall upon my deaf ears. I would be the deaf snubber. I would!

When I had sat and thought about it, I found him egotistical and arrogant. Who does what he did and then does nothing?

It was a good thing I had not really thought about Quiet Man until the evening of the latest event. I surely had saved myself some stress that I would be using up in the future I was sure.

The event was held in the Fall and was a lame attempt as an Autum Harvest. Despite the chilly weather, I decided to wear a dress with a low cut neckline. It would be a dark sage green with white trim straps. I had re-tanned my legs to keep that summer look to them and would wear a slinky creamed closed toed shoe with an elegant heel. I would wear a cream colored feminine sweater trimmed with white beads over the dress.

My make up was pristine. [Or so I thought. I found out later I was oddly bedazzled, not realizing the glitter makeup I was going to dash upon my eyes somehow was stuck to the side of my eye next to my hairline. Everytime I turned, it must have been like a beacon light shining from the side of my face.]

I doused myself in some heady perfume and went on my way.

The weather that early evening was dismal, more than chilly and almost overcast. The parking at the venue was horrendous. I could not park close to the entrance and with all the gumption I was mustering for the latter part of the late afternoon while I was getting ready was eroding while I was trying not to trip and fall over every rock and pot hole.

My coiffed hair was whipping in the fall wind, tearing at my open neck where I had put a good deal of the heady perfume that was now being eroded by Mother Nature’s breath.

I was getting unraveled and tense.

“Good evening, Muse, nice of you to come!”

“Good seeing you Muse. You are sitting at our table, aren’t you?”

“Muse, your seat is with us” said Rob, who had grabbed my name from the table of carded names, and went to promptly mark my seat at his table.

I was standing in the entrance foyer. I was trying to compose myself, arranging my hair and dress. I bent over to pull the heel strap on my delicate shoes which had done the most awful twist and turns in the rocky parking lot.

My host greeted me with his hands embracing the top of my arms and a soft kiss on my cheek, the same doldrums type of kiss I gave him on his cheek.

I turned my attention to the table of names. I scanned it quickly. Fred, Belina and Quiet Man’s cards where still untouched.

Good, I thought. I can get a drink, relax and engross myself in a conversation with someone, anyone, while standing in the entrance area, in full view while in full interest in someone else, looking fabulous and unapproachable. I ordered a glass of the richest red wine they thought they served. And I waited.

You Have Short Issues

I was in a clothing store today-usually un-eventful until I saw it-first I heard it coming though-her Mouth; and there it was: a middled aged woman wearing short shorts and some ugly ass strap sandals WITH PANTYHOSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You could see the panty hose line that is darker than the actual stocking which is almost at the top of the thigh-and her shorts where shorter than that!

Just Gross.

Wednesday, May 9, 2007

He's Quiet

As I sat at the table looking at sinister quiet man gracefully sashaying around the dance floor, I was observing him observing me on occasion. Never did he guide Belina so his back was to me. I was quite relieved for the break in the air so I could regroup.

I try at least to be a firm believer in the man being the aggressor, "persue-r" if you will. When I think that, I remember how fallible many men are in that department, at least in my experience. It is those that I conveniently forget about and I later am then left to wonder about a relationship that could have been. It is this see-saw that I have found myself on most of my single life: I am apparently "un-approachable"- well at least by men who are not exuding massive amounts of self confidence. Those confident men, I have found, have an over abundance of undesirable egos.

So, I was following sinister quiet man with my eyes, who I think I should at this point in the story, call Quiet Man, for that is what he regularly is, and I cannot think of an appropriate pseudonym for his real name.

He only took Belina for one dance and they returned to the table, she opposite me and he next to me. Fred was blathering on as I have found out in the manner he is addicted. I never thought of attending this event to meet someone and in a weird sort of way, I had.

Can I remember the small talk Quiet Man made with me? No. Nor can I remember whatever dopey thing I might have said to him. I was sitting next to him in an state of a mild anxiety, while outwardly I am sure, appearing cooly disinterested. I have that bad habit, but I cannot seem to shake it for anything other than appearing utterly without any social skills. His occasional turn to stare at me started to un-nerve me. I was thinking, my gosh, I am practically touching him in this seat and he has to turn to me and closely look at me. The anxiety in my mind was building and I was becoming more uncomfortable. I chided myself for becoming un-nerved and uncomfortable. Why should I feel this way when so many women would devour the attention? That is just one aspect of my uniqueness is all I can say.

At this point Fred turned his attention to his friend, Quiet Man.

"Why don't you take her out? To a restaurant or for a drink?"

Mortification could not have been worse. Was I not in Fred's presence? Why did he speak as if I was not there? Why was he not speaking to Belina and engaging her in some sordid conversation of his success in life as he was doing to others for most of the night?

I did all I could do, which was laugh and laugh. It broke the tension for me. Quiet Man was looking Fred in the eye, intently, unfettered by what Fred was carrying on about in his inquisitive, demanding manner.

"Why not? I think you should invite her out. It will be wonderful! Muse, wouldn't you like to go out with Quiet Man?"

Quiet Man had a gentle smile on his face. I cannot remember how he responded to Fred. I cannot even remember what he said to me about a date. I was still ignoring the entire topic by laughing at them. The only answer Quiet Man got out of me was a giggly laugh.

Fred, after a while, announced he had to leave.

I thought, Quiet Man must think I am crazy. Fred had done all he could to referee the moment, which is what unglued me. It did not un-glue Quiet Man.

I did not want Quiet Man to think I was rude, crazy or unglued. Without much thinking and completely out of character for me, at least in most situations, I emboldened myself and reached into my evening bag and pulled out my card. I handed it to Quiet Man who was so graceful. He examined my card. I had my photo on it and he was examining my picture and information. At least he won't forget what I look like, though the photo on the card is a good photo, one of like ten thousand shots to get a decent photo, since I am utterly un-photogenic.

"I will call you" he said as he rose from the table to catch up with Fred and Belina.

Friday, May 4, 2007

Sinister Man

I think I shall post a personal story, not for the glorification of it all, but for some feedback.

This recant is about men, a popular topic.

I met this man a few months ago, oh sometime last year. It was at a public gathering of sorts. I had little anticipation for this event, for like the many of its kind, I knew it would be the same old boring people, boring topics and the same grand show of egos on display as it had always been.

I had arrived into ostentatious Italianate styled hall where the event was being held. The parking was horrendous. Can you imagine having a wedding hall type of place and your available parking areas are steep driveways next to the it? Try walking down the pavement in high heels without slipping out from under them. It was this pre-entrance experience that put me in the festive mood I needed to enter the function.

Never had I seen more marble floors, door greeters and red runner rugged floors as I did in such a rural setting. The place does stick out like a sore thumb, but then again, it is the mother of all fancy halls for quite a few miles.

I take my seat. Large displays of Italian appetizers filled the table rounds, set with elaborate arrangements and water displays positioned to enhance the lure of salami, mozzarella, olives and all things Italian. Waiters, with pre-pubesant like facial hair, donning white gloves a bit too large for their hands, sported silver platters filled with more southern Italian concoctions. It was truly mesmerizing.

Not having been mesmerized enough to get up and fill a plate endlessly with the room temperature snacks, I sat at my table with those I knew, looking around at the displays deteriorating slowly from the lush lavishness of food to more like the post lunch rush at the self help cafeteria. I was bored.

A few friends of the people I was with sat down: two men and a stunning blond-well a L'Oreal No. 9 blond, but a blond nonetheless. They were quiet, reserved, polite and friendly. I did not pay much attention, but made small talk with the most boisterous of the group, who I will call Fred. Belina, not the real name of the blond, was very nice.

Fred, who I may post more about all on his own, I later found out was married, was making it known somehow that Belina was with him. Belina was oblivious to it all and if I do a post about Fred, you will find out why.

The third person was the man on which this post was created. He was tall, irregularly handsome with steep black eyes. Kind and yet sinister was my first impression. He was very quiet. So much so, I don't remember being introduced to him when he arrived at the table and I had not noticed him much at all, being engrossed in Fred's vibrant and flamboyant personality. Fred was and still is quite entertaining.

So as the night progressed, the sinister quiet man made his way to sit next to me at the table. I don't recall much conversation with him. What I do remember is this-my family was at this event and by that time my mother showed up at the table and proceeded to engage in lively conversation with Fred, whom she met previously at another event. Sinister quiet man also met my mother when she met Fred. Belina I think was a new addition.

So they all are talking, laughing and making jokes. Our table was probably the loudest table at the entire event. My mother is a talker and she can talk to a wall for hours on end. She does not miss any opportunity to address anyone within her hearing range. So naturally, she took up a conversation with sinister quiet man and the both of them where laughing quite heartily with each other.

Sinister quiet man then chooses to use a lull in the conversations that were flying around our table to announce quite emphatically and definitively the following to my mother: "Your daughter is quite beautiful".

Egads! How embarrassing! I could feel the blood rush to my face, flooding it with a hot red glow. I was at a loss for words and began to laugh and laugh. I had not, to my recollection, more than a few sentences with sinister quiet man. I felt affronted and taken completely by surprise, a feeling which does not make me more endearing.

Belina was smiling along with Fred. Fred was encouraging sinister quiet man to the brink of my sanity or at least to my ability to continue to sit at the table. Fred is by nature a show off and was commenting on sinister quiet man's comment which was tolling in my head, over and over and over, taking control of any ability I should have had at the moment to re-compose myself and move the conversation away from sinister quiet man's control.

By this time, Fred was "demanding" that sinister quiet man take me on the dance floor to dance. This was not helping matters at all. Fred continued to spout words of obvious wisdom that sinister quiet man was interested in me.

My mother at this point, not being one to be left out of any conversation, quickly and thankfully, turned all attention to herself and her topic of interest of the moment and diverted Fred into a contentiously friendly discussion about something else.

Sinister quiet man turned to me and held out his hand for mine and asked me to dance with him. I politely begged off and suggested he dance with Belina. Sinister quiet man looked puzzled but I was grateful for his gentility when, not to offend Belina, he asked her and I assured her it was quite alright with me.

Sinsiter quiet man, took the lovely and stunning Belina, onto the dance floor into his arms, and danced with her. He was looking over her petite shoulder, gazing at me. I started to think, as I was seeing him gracefully hold and lead Belina, why, he is not so sinister looking after all.