Part 2
After a wonderful night together the lady’s smart phone alarm ripped me out of a very deep state of rapid eye movement. I can’t explain why I sleep better with the lady than I do on my own, but I do. In a flash she was out of the bed and in the ensuite. Watching a woman get ready is a magical thing. So many different bottles, vials, containers, brushes, swabs, towels, and tools are involved that it makes a man wonder how much a lady invests into her looks every single day. I offered to make some breakfast but she passed saying she wasn’t a breakfast person, not when she had to work anyway. When I was able I snuck into the restroom and used the can before returning to the bedroom to get dressed.
She looked over, stopped what she was doing, and said “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, you can just hang out here or whatever”. My mind had just figured that when she walked out the door, I would walk out the door. I climbed back into her bed and said “Well then, maybe I will just hang out or whatever”. She laughed at me and continued her beautification ritual, which apparently involved putting on and taking off clothing until she found the right outfit for the day. Eventually she was ready. I received a goodbye kiss, she grabbed her handbag and a tote, and she was on her way to the office. “Now what do I do” was the thought running through my mind as I looked around, like somehow the stuff in her bedroom was going to guide me. And in a way, it did.
I got up and made the bed, reapplying her excessive throw pillows in a lame attempt at replicating how they looked when I tossed them off. I also gathered up her clean try –on clothing and returned them to her closet and straightened things up a bit. I decided to shower in her private bathroom before getting dressed and then I thoroughly cleaned her bathroom. I am not a germaphobe or cleanliness nut, but I am see-a-mess clean-it-up type of guy. Eventually this led me to the kitchen, which always greets me with a sink full of dirty coffee cups, bowls, plates, glass containers and silverware. I loaded and ran the dishwasher before scrubbing a large salad bowl and a few pots and pans. And that’s when the daughter, who had escaped my mind, suddenly appeared.
“Tell me you are making breakfast again!” were the first words out of her mouth. I just said, “Sorry but no, I am just doing some cleaning before I decide what else to do with my day.” She looked disappointed, like really disappointed, so I suggested we go get some breakfast out. In minutes she was ready to go and already she had a plan, seems the women in this family are not afraid to exert their will. “My car needs an oil change; can we drop it off first?” Cleaning service, chauffer and breakfast provider all rolled into one. I followed her to the service center and waited until she jumped into the Challenger and continued her plan “Can we go to IHOP? Mom hates IHOP so we never go there.” And just like that we were on our way to the international house of pancakes. We talked the entire way there but it was all superficial chit-chat, other than finding out that mom apparently hates that IHOP puts pancake batter into their eggs to make them fluffier.
We arrived and put our heads together for a selfie with the IHOP sign right above us, which she quickly texted to her mother. Once at our table with menus in hand, our orders in our minds, and our stomachs ready for food; a woman walked over to the table and took our order. The daughter went pure carbohydrate with chocolate chocolate-chip pancakes while I went all in for the bacon omelet. What is it with putting chocolate in breakfast food? Something about that just seems wrong to me. The meal was fine, better than fast food breakfast but not as good as an older road side diner. The daughter seemed really happy with her sugar on a plate and that’s all that mattered.
We had some time to run a few errands before her car would be ready. These errands would be well documented in selfie form with most being sent to the lady as we continued our journey. With stops at the coffee shop that employs her, a store called Forever 21, another store that was basically the same thing, a store the sold college text books in digital form and a small flower boutique. We looked at the various flowering plants, arrangements and other items I could send the lady at work. The daughter found one and declared it the “perfect” arrangement to send her mother. It was called the “Hold my heart” bouquet featuring pink lilies, pink roses, red carnations and red & white mini-carnations in a cylindrical glass vase. I commented that I was led to believe that red was not the best color to send when just dating. She gave me the same stink eye her mom does and made it clear that this was the right one and to stop over thinking things. I set up the delivery and paid before the florist handed me the card to fill out. Again the daughter jumped in to assist with “None of these flowers are as beautiful as you”. I wrote it down in my best handwriting and added my initials. During the flower buying process she was alerted that her car was ready, so we returned to the service center.
When dropping her off it occurred to us that I had no way of getting back in to the apartment and she had to go to work. She offered me her keys and the code to the private parking area, but I told her I would just go see her Mom and then probably head for home since I grabbed my overnight bag on the way out. She hugged me and told me I was the “best boyfriend her mom ever had”, before laughing out loud and heading off for her little bronze colored Audi. I tried calling the lady but her receptionist said she was too busy to come to the phone. I decided I didn’t want to disturb her at work so I left to check out a few less-feminine stores and head for home. About 90 minutes later, when I was just at the edge of the city ready to hit the highway, I received this text “[tear emoji] You are just the sweetest man alive! [kiss emoji]” followed by “I will be home in an hour or so [heart emoji]”. Oh ****, I am not supposed to leave town without making sure she didn’t have other plans. I turned around and drove to the apartment.
Thankfully the apartment’s wifi signal is strong enough to reach me as I sit here in my car typing and posting. She should be here before too long.
