Thursday, February 05, 2004
I have a confession to make.
Well, actually a couple of them to make.
One, I have hardly anything to write about right now. Consider it Super Bowl burn-out. I hate to cover that uncovering subject again, and that seems to be the only thing that anyone wants to talk about.
The second confession is this: I saw the most amazing woman while I was out driving the other day. I was driving around in Maple Grove, and slowly drove past a store. As I looked in, I saw the most amazing curly haired brunette woman I have seen in a long, long time. I hurried over to Byerly's, spent my last remaining cash on some roses, and then headed into the store.
Not knowing how to approach her, I glided around the store so that she couldn't see me. I, however, could admire her from afar. As it was a large store, this wasn't a hard task. From a distance, her beauty was tantalizing. It taunted me and beckoned me at the same time. Her smile was easy and genuine as she helped the customers, and she set theme at ease with her calming entrancing demeanor. But how to approach her? While her radiant looks called to me like the Sirens to Odysseus, it also intimidated and humbled me, as if I was suddenly aware of standing on sacred ground. My fingers trembled, and I almost dropped the bouquet I was holding.
Quietly, I removed my wedding band and slipped it in my pocket. No need for this woman to know that I was married. Any guilt I would feel later would be balanced by the thrill and exhilaration of one brief moment --maybe even a kiss-- from this marvelous woman of incredible foxy-ness. (My column, my made-up words). The wife would never know of a small daliance.
I approached her Customer Service desk as slyly as possible. She was completely unaware of the loyal subject approaching the pseudo-altar; nor was she aware of the offering he was to present to her, hoping (if even futily) for her approval.
With her back turned to me, I allowed time to slow, so that I might appreciate her all the more. Was she single? Did she have a beau, or possibly even a husband? For a brief moment, I wavered. Maybe I should turn away, and abandon my impulsive behavior. If she was otherwise spoken for, I would look foolish, if I didn't already.
And what if she DID have a husband? Did he treat her well? Did he love her as she deserved? Or did he take her for granted, becoming accustomed to her presence and her mannerisms? The idea itself seemed preposterous considering how lovely she appeared to my eyes. And yet there are so many men out there who are completely unaware of the treasures they have in their own wives. Admittedly, myself included. But if I were to go through with this, I would need to remove any thought of my own marriage from my mind.
What if she loved him? What if she had found a union so perfect, that no amount of flattery could drive her from him? What could I offer her that he already had not?
Finding myself faltering, I snuffed out any internal strife, and committed myself to this act of infatuation.
She turned to help me, and my heart jumped in anticipation, revving up a few thousand Beats Per Minute. I felt dizzy and more alive than I had been since I had met my own wife back in high school.
"How can I help you today, sir?"
Words failed me. I normally took pride in being eloquent, but I couldn't think of anything as I took in her exquisite divinity. I hadn't bothered to consider what I was going to say! I told her that my heart was racing, and I couldn't slow it down.
For a brief moment, she was taken aback, unsure of what to say herself. Rather than let the awkward silence settle in, I bared my soul, telling her that I happened to be driving by when I saw her through the store window. I explained that I simply had to meet her, no matter the consequences, and presented her with the flowers that paled in beauty when set beside her own.
She blushed and said "thank you", maybe not knowing what else to say. I asked if she was married, and to my dismay, she was. Hoping to salvage the situation and yet traveling down a road I knew to be dangerous, I asked if she was happy in her marriage. She demurely replied that she was. I asked what time she was leaving work, and asked if she wanted to meet someplace afterwards to talk.
She politely declined my advances, saying that she was flattered but was not interested in an extra-marital affair. She was quite satisfied with whomever was the lucky bastard she kept well attended at home. Heartbroken, I thanked her anyway, assembled the shattered pieces of my dignity, and walked out of the store to return home.
Whoever is the person out there that fate has blessed with the honor of sharing a life with such a creature......take great care of her. She deserves much more than you or I could offer.
There. My consience is clear.
Well, actually a couple of them to make.
One, I have hardly anything to write about right now. Consider it Super Bowl burn-out. I hate to cover that uncovering subject again, and that seems to be the only thing that anyone wants to talk about.
The second confession is this: I saw the most amazing woman while I was out driving the other day. I was driving around in Maple Grove, and slowly drove past a store. As I looked in, I saw the most amazing curly haired brunette woman I have seen in a long, long time. I hurried over to Byerly's, spent my last remaining cash on some roses, and then headed into the store.
Not knowing how to approach her, I glided around the store so that she couldn't see me. I, however, could admire her from afar. As it was a large store, this wasn't a hard task. From a distance, her beauty was tantalizing. It taunted me and beckoned me at the same time. Her smile was easy and genuine as she helped the customers, and she set theme at ease with her calming entrancing demeanor. But how to approach her? While her radiant looks called to me like the Sirens to Odysseus, it also intimidated and humbled me, as if I was suddenly aware of standing on sacred ground. My fingers trembled, and I almost dropped the bouquet I was holding.
Quietly, I removed my wedding band and slipped it in my pocket. No need for this woman to know that I was married. Any guilt I would feel later would be balanced by the thrill and exhilaration of one brief moment --maybe even a kiss-- from this marvelous woman of incredible foxy-ness. (My column, my made-up words). The wife would never know of a small daliance.
I approached her Customer Service desk as slyly as possible. She was completely unaware of the loyal subject approaching the pseudo-altar; nor was she aware of the offering he was to present to her, hoping (if even futily) for her approval.
With her back turned to me, I allowed time to slow, so that I might appreciate her all the more. Was she single? Did she have a beau, or possibly even a husband? For a brief moment, I wavered. Maybe I should turn away, and abandon my impulsive behavior. If she was otherwise spoken for, I would look foolish, if I didn't already.
And what if she DID have a husband? Did he treat her well? Did he love her as she deserved? Or did he take her for granted, becoming accustomed to her presence and her mannerisms? The idea itself seemed preposterous considering how lovely she appeared to my eyes. And yet there are so many men out there who are completely unaware of the treasures they have in their own wives. Admittedly, myself included. But if I were to go through with this, I would need to remove any thought of my own marriage from my mind.
What if she loved him? What if she had found a union so perfect, that no amount of flattery could drive her from him? What could I offer her that he already had not?
Finding myself faltering, I snuffed out any internal strife, and committed myself to this act of infatuation.
She turned to help me, and my heart jumped in anticipation, revving up a few thousand Beats Per Minute. I felt dizzy and more alive than I had been since I had met my own wife back in high school.
"How can I help you today, sir?"
Words failed me. I normally took pride in being eloquent, but I couldn't think of anything as I took in her exquisite divinity. I hadn't bothered to consider what I was going to say! I told her that my heart was racing, and I couldn't slow it down.
For a brief moment, she was taken aback, unsure of what to say herself. Rather than let the awkward silence settle in, I bared my soul, telling her that I happened to be driving by when I saw her through the store window. I explained that I simply had to meet her, no matter the consequences, and presented her with the flowers that paled in beauty when set beside her own.
She blushed and said "thank you", maybe not knowing what else to say. I asked if she was married, and to my dismay, she was. Hoping to salvage the situation and yet traveling down a road I knew to be dangerous, I asked if she was happy in her marriage. She demurely replied that she was. I asked what time she was leaving work, and asked if she wanted to meet someplace afterwards to talk.
She politely declined my advances, saying that she was flattered but was not interested in an extra-marital affair. She was quite satisfied with whomever was the lucky bastard she kept well attended at home. Heartbroken, I thanked her anyway, assembled the shattered pieces of my dignity, and walked out of the store to return home.
Whoever is the person out there that fate has blessed with the honor of sharing a life with such a creature......take great care of her. She deserves much more than you or I could offer.
There. My consience is clear.
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