I am strolling thru the Mall, a slow day, mostly elderly people walking to stay fit are in attendance. Kind of strange, they make lap after lap around the place and then at the conclusion of the exercise period they all gather in front of Chicken Fillet take a table and eat.
A funny bunch, this geriatric posse of exercise lap-taking aficionados’.
I am walking along, peering into the windows of the stores, and I find nothing all that exciting to tell you the truth, it is no small wonder that sales are off. It is no small wonder that Mall’s much like the dinosaur are on the way out.
Then I spot her.
She is young, she is vibrant, she is drop-dead gorgeous. My mind races and I try and think back to a time when I have experienced a woman such as this, and I am at a definite loss. She is so beautiful that it secretly makes me wish that I could borrow the money from Secretary of State, Hillary Rodham Clinton, just so that I could establish my own foreign country. There I would publish this girl’s likeness on the official postage stamp of our new country, so that I could lick the back of her head each day.
She is working in an ear ring store, so I stop to chat and browse the different piercings she has for sale. I am thinking to myself, “I have always wanted an ear ring. Knowing full well that I am of course, not going to get one.” She bends over several times in the course of events, showing me the wares of her store, among other things. We strike up a conversation, we laugh, we smile, things are going well. Her perfume fills my senses; I am almost paralyzed by her scent.
I am also acutely aware of this old familiar feeling coming over me, silently thinking to myself, “this is nuts, I should be on leash or a chain, staked out in some backyard somewhere.” It is not easy being a randy old dawg such as I am.
Perhaps it is the smell of her perfume, the light touch of her hand on my skin, it could be the elevator musak softly playing in the background.
First thing I know, I am sitting in the chair and I am getting my ear pierced and I have an ear ring! Call me the helpless romantic, the middle-aged fool, whatever, but I walk out of the place sporting a brand new diamond stud in my left lobe. I am also considerably “lighter in the wallet” because of it.
It is important that we now interject into all this that the ownership of an ear ring is not a new thing with me. Having what most men consider a “progressive marriage” it was talked about, never granted, but it did come up from time to time over the years. I must emphasize that this is not a spur of the moment encounter; it has been a secret goal of mine for years.
And it has been from time to time, discussed. Men have this right, it is on page #54 of Dr. Phils’ Marriage Enrichment Series with footnotes inserted by Robin. I also believe there was an episode of it on The View where it was discussed briefly in eighty-nine.
Now the wife has told me previous to this, “If you get an ear ring, I am NOT going anywhere with you. To the store, the movies, WalMart … Nowhere are we to be seen together if you get an ear ring.”
Then as she always does, she prefaced it with … “You understand?”
And I am thinking, “I roll it over and over in my mind, might be a little pain involved, but all in all, it sounds like a pretty good deal to me.” It might be worth it, I could come out on top of this thing, if I play my cards right, this could be a winning hand.
So I am “all in” as they say in The World Series of Poker … I am not waiting for the River Card, it is now or never.
Today I do the deed! This also my toxic day of reckoning. Today I will have to face the music. My bride is not going to understand this at all.
She is standing at the sink doing dishes, softly humming to herself and I walk in to the kitchen to get me a cup of coffee. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her peer at me and then she says, “What is that in your ear?” to which I reply, “What?” and then she again says, not to be deterred.
“What is THAT in your ear?” This time pointing to the offending object and wiggling her finger in order to emphasis.
So I reply, “it’s an ear ring.”
“Lord, what have you went out and done now you old fool?”
Nothing like a little kindness and understanding, with your cup of lukewarm half-day old Coffee.
“What in the world possessed you to do this; why in the world did you get your ear pierced?”
“Cause I wanted to, that’s why, b’sides lots of bikers have ear rings.” She smiles and says “Yeah, and they have something that you do not have.” So I inquire of her what that might be, because you see, the monkey never learns, the monkey always goes back for more.
She opens up the cabinet door, places the clean plate in there with the rest, and looks at me and says … “Motorcycles, bikers have ear rings, beards, snot rag hats and MOTORCYCLES! You gonna buy a motorcycle?”
“Maybe.” I meekly mumble, and then I grab my cup of Joe out of the Microwave and head for the TV room. Funny how things work out, people who do not learn from their mistakes are prone to repeat them, that is the way I had it presented to me if I am remembering it right. I sip on the coffee, it is warm, it nourishes my tired old soul and I think about it all … Silently I am thinking to myself, “A Harley Sportster, big tractor seat, a ONE SEATER that would be nice.”
The last time something like this occurred in my life was about the same, back in the seventies, except it was Sears, a well endowed brunette, deep green eyes a guy could lose himself in, and it was a totally new vacuum cleaner … but that was just one hundred-eighty-five dollars and some change.
Now this? Man-Man, a new Harley Sportster, this could get really expensive.
The monkey never learns.
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