Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Angela, Part Two
For your reading pleasure, here is the continuation of the story of how I came to know my lovely wife, Angela. If you wish to get caught up, you may review part one.
This continued for about a month. I would show up every day, hoping that the lovely Angela and her friend, Bernie, would be there. The three of us developed something of a camaraderie, as I usually made it a point to team with the ladies. I discovered that Angela and Bernie were roommates, and were both I.T. professionals like myself. I never heard either one indicate that there was a significant other in Angela's life. I very much wanted to request if Angela would like to have dinner with me one evening. However, there was one thing that was holding me back.
You see, Bernie appeared, to my still young eyes, to be somewhat, I believe the term is - butch. Since these two ladies shared the same abode, always showed up together, and appeared to be rather fond of each other, I began to question Angela's preferences in terms of a lifetime companion. I thought that, perhaps, the woman with whom I was smitten may have not been as interested in gentlemen, preferring to couple with those of the softer sex like herself. My dear readers, I was afraid that this wondrous beauty was of the homosexual persuasion, that she may have, in fact, been gay.
Now, I have no objection to those who have a homosexual bent. In my experience, this is not something that one opts for, like one might choose dogs over cats or blue over green. Rather, from discussions with the gay people that I have had the good fortune to associate with over the years, it seems to be that homosexuality is part on the fabric of ones being. In other words, you're born that way. And if Angela was born that way, she would never be more to me than a good friend. The thought broke my heart.
However, I needed to verify my suspicion. It was, though, difficult to find the right way to ascertain her sexuality. Fortunately, one afternoon, Angela showed up at the courts alone. After playing a couple of games, I went to an adjacent court to work on my jump shot. To my delight, Angela chose to join me. I determined that this was my opportunity to discover if she would ever have feelings for me. We shot and chatted for a few minutes, during which time I was developing a tactful, gentle, intelligent-sounding way for me to inquire of her.
Now, I need to mention a particular malady that I seem to be afflicted with. There are times when my brain becomes temporarily disconnected from my mouth. It may perhaps be referred to the human version to the bovine disease called hoof-in-mouth disease. In my case, I had permanent teeth-marks on my ankles.
There was a break in the conversation, so I knew it was the time to ask. I prepared to deliver my adroitly-phrased question. However, when I opened my mouth, out blurted:
"Hey, Angela. Are you a dyke or what?"
I was immediately mortified. Angela's eyes because as wide as saucers. I thought that I had lost any opportunity that I had of being able to spend time with her. I prepared to offer a desperate apology when Angela chuckled. Then she giggled. Then she started to laugh.
And laugh.
And laugh.
She became positively apoplectic. Her face got red, tears began to stream from her eyes, and she was bent over double, such was her mirth. She actually even snorted. I thought I was going to have to summon a paramedic. At last she regained enough composure so that she could speak.
"You think I'm a lesbian?" she managed to ask. "Why, because I play basketball and hang out with Bernie? Or because I'm 26 and not married?"
In my humiliated state, I tried to form a response. I managed to say, "Well, you know.... And you don't seem to have a boyfriend...."
She tried to look indignant because I could be so presumptuous and so tactless. She tried, but she failed miserably, and started laughing again. I just stood there with a hurt look on my face.
Finally, she said, "Well, I'm not. So there! So why do you ask, anyway?"
"Well," I responded, "I thought that ... umm ... well, I guess I'd like to ask you out and I wanted to make sure that there was a chance that you'd say yes."
"So, why the hell do you think I keep coming here to play basketball?"
"Well, I thought that you were looking for a good game ...." Clong! Realization of what she was saying finally clonked me on the head. I suddenly had another Sally Fields moment ("You like me! You really, really like me"). This perfect being, this beautiful woman, who was everything that I always wanted in female companionship, was as interested in me as I was in her. And, thus, we had the beginning of a wonderful romance.
We went out for a beer afterwards, where I discovered that Bernie had been her best friend since middle school. Bernie had played basketball for a midsized state college with some success. Angela didn't play, but attended the school and was a frequent one-on-one opponent. And, yes, Bernie was a lesbian. I was not the first person to think that Angela preferred girls, she told me, because she occasionally got curious looks from passersby when she'd be out with Bernie. And, strangely, the beautiful Angela didn't get asked out on many dates.
I, therefore, proceeded to ask her to dinner. We went out that weekend and had a wonderful time, and the rest is history. I didn't know at first that she was a connoisseur of spanking (that will be the subject of another story), but I didn't care. I just knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. That winter we became engaged, and were married the following summer.
So, more than twenty years, two kids, and a few thousand spankings later, we're still together. My darling has softened somewhat and put on a few pounds because back problems have limited her activity. But she is still beautiful, still has a fine derriere, and she still can deliver a great whack on the posterior. What can I say, we have a fantastic relationship.
This continued for about a month. I would show up every day, hoping that the lovely Angela and her friend, Bernie, would be there. The three of us developed something of a camaraderie, as I usually made it a point to team with the ladies. I discovered that Angela and Bernie were roommates, and were both I.T. professionals like myself. I never heard either one indicate that there was a significant other in Angela's life. I very much wanted to request if Angela would like to have dinner with me one evening. However, there was one thing that was holding me back.
You see, Bernie appeared, to my still young eyes, to be somewhat, I believe the term is - butch. Since these two ladies shared the same abode, always showed up together, and appeared to be rather fond of each other, I began to question Angela's preferences in terms of a lifetime companion. I thought that, perhaps, the woman with whom I was smitten may have not been as interested in gentlemen, preferring to couple with those of the softer sex like herself. My dear readers, I was afraid that this wondrous beauty was of the homosexual persuasion, that she may have, in fact, been gay.
Now, I have no objection to those who have a homosexual bent. In my experience, this is not something that one opts for, like one might choose dogs over cats or blue over green. Rather, from discussions with the gay people that I have had the good fortune to associate with over the years, it seems to be that homosexuality is part on the fabric of ones being. In other words, you're born that way. And if Angela was born that way, she would never be more to me than a good friend. The thought broke my heart.
However, I needed to verify my suspicion. It was, though, difficult to find the right way to ascertain her sexuality. Fortunately, one afternoon, Angela showed up at the courts alone. After playing a couple of games, I went to an adjacent court to work on my jump shot. To my delight, Angela chose to join me. I determined that this was my opportunity to discover if she would ever have feelings for me. We shot and chatted for a few minutes, during which time I was developing a tactful, gentle, intelligent-sounding way for me to inquire of her.
Now, I need to mention a particular malady that I seem to be afflicted with. There are times when my brain becomes temporarily disconnected from my mouth. It may perhaps be referred to the human version to the bovine disease called hoof-in-mouth disease. In my case, I had permanent teeth-marks on my ankles.
There was a break in the conversation, so I knew it was the time to ask. I prepared to deliver my adroitly-phrased question. However, when I opened my mouth, out blurted:
"Hey, Angela. Are you a dyke or what?"
I was immediately mortified. Angela's eyes because as wide as saucers. I thought that I had lost any opportunity that I had of being able to spend time with her. I prepared to offer a desperate apology when Angela chuckled. Then she giggled. Then she started to laugh.
And laugh.
And laugh.
She became positively apoplectic. Her face got red, tears began to stream from her eyes, and she was bent over double, such was her mirth. She actually even snorted. I thought I was going to have to summon a paramedic. At last she regained enough composure so that she could speak.
"You think I'm a lesbian?" she managed to ask. "Why, because I play basketball and hang out with Bernie? Or because I'm 26 and not married?"
In my humiliated state, I tried to form a response. I managed to say, "Well, you know.... And you don't seem to have a boyfriend...."
She tried to look indignant because I could be so presumptuous and so tactless. She tried, but she failed miserably, and started laughing again. I just stood there with a hurt look on my face.
Finally, she said, "Well, I'm not. So there! So why do you ask, anyway?"
"Well," I responded, "I thought that ... umm ... well, I guess I'd like to ask you out and I wanted to make sure that there was a chance that you'd say yes."
"So, why the hell do you think I keep coming here to play basketball?"
"Well, I thought that you were looking for a good game ...." Clong! Realization of what she was saying finally clonked me on the head. I suddenly had another Sally Fields moment ("You like me! You really, really like me"). This perfect being, this beautiful woman, who was everything that I always wanted in female companionship, was as interested in me as I was in her. And, thus, we had the beginning of a wonderful romance.
We went out for a beer afterwards, where I discovered that Bernie had been her best friend since middle school. Bernie had played basketball for a midsized state college with some success. Angela didn't play, but attended the school and was a frequent one-on-one opponent. And, yes, Bernie was a lesbian. I was not the first person to think that Angela preferred girls, she told me, because she occasionally got curious looks from passersby when she'd be out with Bernie. And, strangely, the beautiful Angela didn't get asked out on many dates.
I, therefore, proceeded to ask her to dinner. We went out that weekend and had a wonderful time, and the rest is history. I didn't know at first that she was a connoisseur of spanking (that will be the subject of another story), but I didn't care. I just knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. That winter we became engaged, and were married the following summer.
So, more than twenty years, two kids, and a few thousand spankings later, we're still together. My darling has softened somewhat and put on a few pounds because back problems have limited her activity. But she is still beautiful, still has a fine derriere, and she still can deliver a great whack on the posterior. What can I say, we have a fantastic relationship.
