Monday, February 26, 2007

This is a follow-up to my post Asymptote Of Vindication. If you recall, we last left our hero -- me -- slightly chagrined that his entire liberal arts education in general and college Latin studies in particular had not been vindicated by a young lass he had encountered in a local pub. After finding out said lass was studying Catullus, an obscure Latin poet (which is to say a Latin poet), said hero was able to proudly declaim a couple lines of a love poem written by this very Catullus guy in Latin, fully expecting the astounded lass to leap upon his waiting frame and be carried off to ecstasy. Unfortunately this did not happen, but the consolation prize for her was to be the hero giving the lass a cherished Catullus book as a present the following day.

Unfortunately, this also did not happen, and your hero who is tired of referring to himself in the third person was stood up. And nonplussed in the process.

Whew. So now you're up to speed.

All this is background for an update: I ran into the very same comely young lass -- did I mention she was comely? she was -- in the same public house a couple of nights ago while meeting a couple of squirrelly young lovers. Molly is her name by the way, and she also works the NY Times Crossword for giggles; Hullesfodder if ever you saw it/some/her/whatever. Good lord, I hope I get through this post; even I'm all tangled up at this point.

Anyway, Molly came up to me at the bar and chatted for a bit and apologized for standing me up. She explained that her grandmother had been ill and needed her, and she felt badly for blowing me off but she had no way to get in touch with me to let me know she couldn't make it.

I know what you're thinking, but it's all true. I hadn't given her my phone number, which makes her the only woman in Saint Paul that doesn't have three or four of my business cards scattered about her house, all of them virginal and pristine and unused. And she was obviously being sincere about her grandmother's illness. Who lies about their grandmother? Not me, not you, and most assuredly not her, bless her heart.

The thing is, she was so damn sweet about everything. She was visibly distressed that she had blown me off, even though she had a perfectly good reason for doing so. In fact, she looked so chagrined about the whole affair that I found myself trying to reassure her that everything was okay (it was) and that she had no other recourse available to her at the time (she didn't) and that everything is just fine between us (it is) and that I hold no grudge whatsoever (I don't) and why am I getting trapped in these bizarre sentence structures? Help me, someone, please help me.

After chatting with me for a bit, Molly left to do some things but said that she'd come back to talk again before she left. "Sure you will," I thought uncharitably, but damn me if she didn't come back after a short while and plop down next to me at the bar. We talked a little bit more and she seemed even sweeter to me than she did earlier, if that's possible. Not the cloying sweet, but the angelic sweet; big difference. I was spell-caught in spite of myself.

As she rose to leave, she leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek then left.

Blink. [This is the very same blink I did when she said she was reading Catullus, if you want to go back and check.]

Now those of you who have read me for a while know that I'm not very shy about physical affection: "sex 'em down early and sex 'em down often and avoid transporting 'em across state lines" is generally the ethos by which I live my life. But in this case I was actually blissed out by a kiss on the cheek. In fact, it's not too much to say that I was stunned. A good stunned, like when you find out you've won the big Powerball lottery, not a bad stunned, like when your ex-wife tasers you because your alimony check bounced.

I retained the glow I had from the Molly encounter and kiss for the rest of the evening, and must confess that even writing about it now a little of that glow comes back, sort of like drifting golden threads. A kiss on the cheek is such a small thing, but it can sure make a big difference in the kind of day you're having. Remember that prior to Molly's arrival I had been in the company of squirrely young lovers, and there's nothing like SYLs to remind you that your own life is a dismal hell of loneliness and sorrow and empty refried bean cans and taser burns.

So that's it -- I just had to tell you the happy ending to the Molly story. Or maybe it's not the ending after all: she mentioned that she'd still like to get together and talk about Catullus and other stuff sometime.

I hope she lets me know early enough in advance so I can rent a U-Haul to carry all the books I'm going to give to her.

-- Hulles

21 comments:

Jen said...

Awww! You're just so darn cute when you glow.

LaCosta (Lollie) said...

This leads me back to my "grab the love where you can get it" comment. Glow away, it's sweet really.

La Espia T. said...

You are up to your ears in gorgeous lasses turning from p.r. to r.

Soon you shall be sexdoging (I'm not sure how many "g's" should be in sexdogging...er..sexdog-ing?) Either way you shall be doing such item all over the place.

Kristen Painter said...

"Works the NY Times crossword for giggles?" She sounds like a fembot to me. You're probably just Step One in her plan for world domination.

Mosilager said...

Congratulations... sounds like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Stephen Blackmoore said...

Dude, you are SO losing your curmudgeon card. A kiss on the cheek and you turn all glowy? The hell is wrong with you? You'd think at heart you were really some kind of kind, sweet, cool person, or...

Dear god. You've been lying to us this whole time. But, then I guess that would make you are a bastard.

Okay, I feel better now.

SuperBee said...

1) I like it better when it's called the White Slavery Act.

2) Last time I checked, it wasn't 1896 anymore. GAWSH. This was like reading "The Awakening," only without the redemption of suicide at the end of the tortuously long Victorian narrative. (Not that I'm advocating your suicide, of course, I'm just saying, it made that tiresome book slightly less sucky.)

3) Okay. Whatever. I'm just jealous that your abilities to write in florid and twisting prose far exceed mine. Had I studied Latin Classics, maybe I would be able to do so. But the University of Wisconsin School of Journalism tried to beat my florid hand into submission... Did that sound dirty?

A little.

Claire said...

Aw, sweet! Stick it to the squirrelly young lovers!

Cxx

Anonymous said...

I don't know what to say, except I laughed at the "squirrelly young lovers" comment.

Erin

Eva Gale said...

You were working it until you spouted Blissed Out and ended up sounding like a Merry Prankster.

But I'm glad it was good for you.

Hulles said...

Jen, damn straight I am, thanks for noticing.

Lollie, thanks, I intend to follow your advice and glow like the hot coal on the end of a fat reefer.

La Espia T., dear, good to see you, and just FYI I've been sexdogging it (without results) all over the place for years, I've just started writing about it recently. And I am up to my electronic ears in gorgeous lasses like yourself and I love it. The ones with the "r." by their name are fewer and farrer betweener however.

Kristen, I don't mind androids really, some of my best friends etc. etc. Go ahead and dominate the world, I say, but start by dominating me. Mistress.

M., nice to see you, and joking aside for the moment I hope it is the start of a friendship, that would be nice. There, done putting joking aside, now putting joking back in front. And btw I need to get over to your place, haven't been recently, sorry.

Stephen, it's more like since I'm the villain I never have the sweet young innocent girl come up and kiss me on the cheek and when it happens it changes my life forever and I found Boy's Town. I'm kidding about changing my life forever, I intend to remain Snidely Whiplash or however the hell he spells his name. Nyah ah ah...

Superbee, too funny. Yes, my prose does get florid and twisty, doesn't it? And had I but known I would have my hand beaten I would have considered UW (Madison?). Instead I had to beat it into submission myself and it still resents me for it. Or something.

Claire, I tried to remain excited and happy for them and supportive of their newfound joy, but as soon as they left I broke down into tears and cursed them and the cloud they rode in on.

Erin, laugh if you want, some day that will be you.

Eva, that's funny, who knows who the Merry Pranksters are anymore? Besides you and I, that is. I could have become a card-carrying member at one time but those days are long gone by. However my one remaining synapse left over from that era still sparks occasionally just to disorient me and prevent me from getting a job with the federal government.And BTW it was good for me. Not good enough mind you, but still good.

cK said...

I'm glad you reached for the SYL acronym. I would have handed in my HBAS (Hulles Blog Appreciation Society) badge had you neglected an acronym in this particular post.

Is the HBAS getting together soon or what? ("What" is more forceful here if you pronounce h ahead of w.)

And what in god's name is vegemite?
-cK

Sassmaster said...

I know that feeling -- getting glowy from the smallest things. Or the other way, when a hangnail sends you into a spiral of despair. I vote for glowy

Hulles said...

I still prefer Death Commandos over HBAS, but call us what you will, the invite is for W.A. Frost at 8PM on Thursday.

All are welcome, by the way. I'm even going to post it if I ever get a chance.

Vegemite is something weird that Brits eat. You wouldn't like it.

Sassmaster, I also vote for glowy, damn straight, and I like both your nom de blog and your little bio pic a lot. Welcome to this odd little corner of the world.

SuperBee said...

C'mon, Hulles. Is there any OTHER UW?

(I mean, yeah, but really? No.)

Hulles said...

superbee I happen to agree with you but I have a couple friends who used to teach at River Falls and probably still do so I thought I'd ask.

I think Madison might be the most underrated town in the Midwest as far as a place to get all liquored up. I like that place.

Mosilager said...

actually i haven't written anything good in months... there were the pics of what we called a blizzard but probably for you minnesotans it would be a light wind. other than that I've been making fun of the USA and of some of the followers of one of the world's biggest religions.

Jen said...

I went to UW-Madison too! And let me tell you, I think the lakes there are flowing with Jagermeister. I just don't know how they could have kept refilling my shot glass all those times if they weren't.

Hulles said...

Mosilager, regardless I still want to make it over just to say hi if nothing else. I'll bet you didn't even have to break a sweat to make fun of the US. We are eminently make-funnable these days. Good luck on the other topic....

Jen, didn't know you went to UW Madison. Some of my best friends etc. etc. Good lord, woman, it's a wonder you have a brain left. Did you get hand-slapped too like Superbee?

Mosilager said...

Thanks Hulles, hope you make it over there soon. I once heard a guy say that he would give up his left ball to go to UW-Madison. It was never clear what UW-Madison would do with his left ball. Hope he made it there without the sacrifice.

Hulles said...

Mosilager, you and me both hope that. No Midwestern university is worth a ball. Ivy League, sure, maybe even Berkeley, but certainly not UW. No offense, Badgers, but balls are important organs to a guy and one must be discriminating about to whom one gives them.