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.

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