So when I left you, SH and I were necking on my couch. Then I took him back to the airport (this was the Monday after Thanksgiving) and three days later, he returned to Memphis. I had given up all pretense of working -- I mean, they'd eliminated my job and told me to go away, so why should I bust my butt to finish the projects I'd started? Just so my boss, the one who told me I should quit using those big words that nobody understood, wouldn't be left in a lurch?
Don't think so.
So I picked SH up from the airport on Thursday. I went to work sort of on Friday, but came home at lunch. I cooked SH a supper waffles and bacon, which he thought was strange because his philosophy on supper is that it should be a meal with which one can drink wine.
Whatever. Surely there is a wine that goes with waffles.
We had a great time that weekend. Unfortunately, I can't remember what else we did, although I do remember that SH tried to figure out a way to move from the guest room to mine. Then he decided he wanted to see me some more, so got me a ticket to Milwaukee two weeks hence.
Did I mention that Gomez, the millionaire with not one but two Jaguars (the car, not the cat) did not get my ticket to Paris? He didn't even offer.
SH is not a millionaire. But he has good manners. (And yes, he has more than made up for not paying for lunch on our first was it a date or not? date at The Cupboard, a restaurant we still miss.)
Let me say something else here. Millionaires (or men who claim to be millionaires) who have women throwing themselves at them tend not to be good kissers. Don't know why that is unless they feel like they don't need to work at it. Remember "Revenge of the Nerds?" And the nerd who was such a good kisser compared to the jock? Remember what he said? Well, it's true. Former nerds are the best kissers and that's all I'm going to say about that.
Anyhow, I went to Milwaukee and we went ice skating and SH made steak and grilled vegetables for me on his grill on the snow-covered patio and we went out for frozen custard and by then I knew for sure that Gomez "I drink a bottle of wine at lunch then change into my Frette pajamas for a four-hour nap every day even though we are in Paris and the woman I asked to meet me here wants to go to Chartres or Versailles or anywhere but my bank and the Ferrari dealership" was history.
Then SH asked me to go to a New Year's Eve party with him at our friends Pete and Julie in Pittsburgh and then spend ten days with him, which I didn't think I could do because ten days! What if I didn't like him ten days' worth?