Late One Night

If I could have had those ten or so years over again I'd have done things very differently. First of all, I'd have never taken a chance on second-best. Listen to me, don't do it. What you see is what you get, no more no less. People don't change, other than getting older. When you choose a partner, and mean it to be for life, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, just make sure you get it right. I drew one good card, I got richer. He helped me achieve that. But being the ungrateful bitch that I am, that wasn't enough. Our relationship disintegrated, and there I was, a business owner, and effectively, emotionally, alone.

So every day, I would leave my beautiful home, climb into my fantastic car, drive to my dreamy little store, and sell delightful bits and pieces to a wide range of interesting people. I bought lovely clothes, ate delicious food, and went to fascinating places.

And it was all so wonderful that every night I'd slip between the silk sheets of my deeply luxurious bed, and cry myself to sleep.

Yes, that's right. I married him for his money, his status, and his charm. He was, to everyone who knew me, a Good Catch. Handsome, suave, and generous. We honeymooned in Bali.

Well at least we never had children. That would have complicated matters. At least when shortly before our ninth wedding anniversary I found out I wasn't the only pretty thing in his life being lavished with gifts, that he'd found someone still interested in him after I no longer was, I suddenly had a way out, and I was able to get myself a good lawyer and cut loose. I got a good pay-off.

So am I a gold-digger? Plenty of people think so. Well, as a matter of fact the money is no compensation for those years. Sure, it let me get a place to live and keep the store, but I'd have given it all away to have that time back, and the right man. That was my big mistake, I married the wrong man. The Good Catch wasn't, and I knew it. I knew it right from the start but I married him anyway. The man I really wanted didn't exist. I gave up searching for him, and took the best offer that came along. How many women realize after they marry that the boy from High School was the one she really should have taken? I didn't even have that memory to get by on.

Let me try to explain this to you, because it's somewhat peculiar. I don't know where to start. OK. Back when I was younger, and I'm talking High School years here, and probably before that, I had a thing for guys in glasses. Yes, I know, not so unusual, you hear people say it all the time, but for me it became an obsession. I went through a time when it affected my schoolwork, and my life really, because I was always thinking about it. Until you've had an obsession you don't know how it takes over. I thought I'd grow out of it, but I didn't. It followed me through college and into adult life, and the only thing I could do was repress it. Isn't that what you're supposed to do with these things? So I got married to a man who didn't wear glasses, but was otherwise extremely attractive, and as I've explained, it didn't work. I kept thinking about what I was missing out on, our sex life was affected, and eventually, well, our marriage dissolved. Yes, I really do think my obsession was part of the reason.

I'm not as bad as I seem. I must seem appalling, or maybe just weird. Maybe you don't like me already. Maybe you think I didn't know when I was well off? Maybe you think I should have sucked it up. I wouldn't blame you. But the funny thing was, it went both ways. He wasn't what I really wanted, and I wasn't what he really wanted either. We just started to bore each other. He bought me the store finally, to give me something to do, and I made a success of it. The only joy I had.

Next door was another small store that sold books and posters, and funny odds and ends like statues and clocks. It was a good match to have side by side. The old guy who ran it was retiring soon however, and I was a bit concerned about what I'd get instead. I didn't want anything to change. I'd found myself a little piece of happiness and I was hanging on tight. You can imagine my relief then when he told me his grandson Dean had decided to take over the business. This was my world.

I met the new owner shortly after that, and I took an immediate liking to him. His plan was to keep things pretty much as his grandfather had done, with some new ideas. He was very personable and rather attractive too, had I been interested. But my experience had put me off men - that's an understatement, and despite being really terribly lonely, I was not going through that again. So he took over the running of the place, and brought in an assistant too, because he wasn't always there. He did some teaching at the community college, and when he was occupied with that Cassie came in. We got on famously. She'd also had a disastrous marriage, so we had plenty in common. Quite often when Dean came back, instead of going home she'd come in and help me for free, just for company and fun. Then when I needed a day off I used her as my assistant too, so we shared her. Looking back she was just loving being a sort of double agent, because I confided in her, and I wasn't the only one.

I told her straight out that I thought Dean was gorgeous, but that I wasn't interested. She never said much, but her eyes twinkled.

Meanwhile unknown to me, Dean was telling Cassie how he was interested in ME, but wasn't ready to do anything about it because he knew I was recently divorced. She never repeated what she was told, either way. So for a while there we just took care of business, everything went along quite well, and it was actually a happy time.

Then, one day, out of the blue, I was idly looking out the window and Dean arrived back to relieve Cassie, and it was just a brief glance, but I was SURE I saw him wearing glasses. It was like a flash, made me reel, and then he was gone - into his store. I couldn't leave mine as there were several customers in there, so I just had to get my head together and serve them. Was I imagining it? Was it my obsession taking a new twist - hallucination? If not, I was suddenly overwhelmingly interested. All the pain of the last ten years had gone in an instant, and I was man-hungry again. It wasn't long before Cassie arrived, and I immediately asked her to watch the store for me for a while. I went straight next door with no reason prepared, I just had wings on my feet. There was Dean, smiling at me, but no glasses. I was mortified. My head was in a total fog and I felt like an idiot. Of course he must have wondered what I was doing there and no doubt why I looked like I'd just seen a ghost, but he was kind enough not to say, instead he had something for me.

"I forgot to send this round with Cassie, it was delivered here by mistake."

I said a feeble thanks and he looked concerned. There was nothing else to say, so I gave a weak, forced smile and slunk back to my store. I guess I wasn't very much fun because Cassie didn't stay long, and I was out of it all day. Some of my regular customers noticed how distracted I was, and I was suffering so much that I told one old lady, who always came in for lavendar water, "I thought I'd found the man of my dreams, but maybe it was just a dream". She took hold of my hand and said "Dreams sometimes have to be chased down honey".

Over the next few days I recovered, but now it was always there in the back of my mind, did I see what I thought I saw or not? Was I going crazy? Wishful thinking from the depths of my subconcious? But then just when I had decided it was a trick of the light, I saw it again. It was late one night. Getting close to Christmas I stayed open until the customers all went, and Dean was doing the same thing. When I finally closed I walked past his store, glanced in, and there he was, and, no mistake this time, wearing glasses. I stopped dead, unable to take my eyes off him, he looked so good. There before me was sheer human perfection. Then he disappeared up the stairs. The door was locked, he was closed. What should I do now? Stand outside and wait for him to leave? Wouldn't that look a bit strange? So, I figured it out. I walked back to my own door, and when he came out I would just pretend I was just going by. I didn't have too long to wait, and out he came. No glasses. This was too much, this was cruel and unusual punishment. But at least I was SURE I wasn't imagining it. So I shook myself hard and tried to talk to him quite naturally, about business and all that, but he was in a hurry. He had somewhere to go. I didn't. I just drove home and got drunk. I was in love.

Over the next few weeks I got more sightings like this. It was never more than a few moments, and it was never really face to face, but always a glimpse round a door, or a corner, or while one of us was hurrying somewhere. I took more opportunity to talk to him, every chance I got. We were getting along so well I was almost ready to bite the bullet and ask him out for a drink, but the romantic part of me wanted to be asked instead. I decided this was the only way to proceed now, to start dating him and get to see him in his glasses that way, and find out what the hell he was playing at, because it was unbearable.

One quiet afternoon it occurred to me that I had a customer who I'd noticed sometimes in glasses, sometimes not, and I asked her about it. Luckily she didn't think my question too weird, and she explained that sometimes she wore contact lenses. It depended on a lot of things, she said, not least sheer whim. That made sense. I had wondered if maybe he wore contacts the rest of the time, or just wore his glasses for certain activities, although I could never quite figure out any pattern to it.

Luckily I got my wish before too long and he finally asked me out. OK, it wasn't a date. It was his 30th birthday and he invited both me and Cassie, along with a bunch of his friends. He'd booked a huge table which took up a whole side of a restaurant, seating 12, although only ten seats were taken, and I sat opposite him. It just worked out that way. I spent the entire evening staring into his eyes looking for contacts, but they were so dark it was hopeless. Then a couple of late arrivals joined us - they were his brothers. One was much younger, one a little older. The older one was hysterical. He brought gag gifts, told outrageous stories and was obviously very used to playing to a crowd. He was a very sharp dresser, and I guessed he was in business. The younger one was quieter, more casual, but pleasant, and he wore glasses. Neither of them was as good-looking as Dean, but they weren't bad either.

I was having a wonderful evening, until big brother made a speech. He seemed determined to embarrass Dean, and started out with tales of childhood, of guilty secrets and wet pants. There was no reaction but a warm smile. I could tell this had been done many times before. So he moved on to stories of all he'd done for Dean, an elder brother's drunken bragging, none of which had any effect on the birthday boy, not even when his early dating stories came out. That is until he told a story of how Dean made an idiot of himself on a double date because he'd been too shy to wear his glasses. I got the feeling that one bothered him, even all these years later. He looked across at me like he was asking something. But his brother wasn't finished. Apparently the teenage Dean was so shy about his glasses that he'd retrieved his elder brother's discarded contacts from the bathroom trash and used them. Now he looked really uncomfortable, and I was hurting for him.

His brother moved on, but Dean was visibly bothered. Gradually everyone left, but I didn't. I made sure I was last and left alone with him. I hadn't got anything in mind to say, I just wanted to make it clear that nothing his brother said had put me off him, because you just don't know how stuff like that can feel belittling. I suddenly had an idea, I offered to drive him home as he was going to have to get a cab otherwise, he'd had far too much wine to drive. I said it as a friend would, and he accepted graciously. He lived on the opposite side of the city to me, it was a small apartment building, nothing fancy. I was willing him to ask me in, and it worked.

Unfortunately the conversation was stilted and awkward, but somewhere inside I knew this was a good thing, that it meant we were both trying hard to impress, and we were both holding back a lot. After three cups of coffee I knew I'd have to wait for another occasion to really get to know him, so I excused myself, but tried to do it as nicely as possible. I gave him a tiny kiss as I left, and he almost fell over. Yes, I thought to myself as I drove home, shaky start, but this has potential.

Part Two