I was warming up for my Saturday long run, just an easy mile or so, when I came up behind another runner. Looked vaguely familiar. As I drew even, she turned and it was Sandi Lipscomb, a former classmate from high school. We exchanged greetings and I said I didn't remember her as a runner.
"That's right, Jeff. Running is part of the new me. What do you think?"
"You look very trim. Have you lost weight?"
She smiled. "Thanks for the compliment. Dieting is a pain, but I only have nine more pounds to go."
I had slowed to her pace and was enjoying the conversation. She gave me a strange look and said, "Frank divorced me. Said I was a fat cow who couldn't screw, and he already had a new girlfriend."
"Wow, that's pretty nasty!"
"Almost from the start of being married to him, I knew it wasn't working, but the divorce was like a barrel of cold water."
"You are surviving?"
"Yes. Mom sat me down for a horrible lecture about being on my own. Said I had to turn my art into a living, and do something about the lousy body."
We went along for a ways, not talking. Finally, she said, "The formula for the new me says I have to ask a guy for a date. Waiting around for them to ask won't work." She looked across at me with inquiring eyes.
I decided to mess with the formula and said, "What if I asked first? I think I remember having a crush on you in sophomore year."
She laughed and waved a fist at me. "Liar! We have to do this my way. The book on divorce says I have to suck it up and not be afraid to ask."
"Ok. You've asked and I've accepted. When and where?"
"Oh dear, I'm so stupid. I'm supposed to have figured that out, aren't I?"
"Just this once, you get a pass. I'll pick you up at six on Friday night. Destination is a surprise. You are required to dress like we are still in college."
As I sprinted away, she was saying, "But..."
Thirteen miles later, I was winded, but still smiling from my encounter with Sandi. Should be fun, pretending we were back in school. I could revive some of my more boorish behaviors.
She looked great. It was a cool evening and the sweater set was perfect, along with the bobbed hair and skirt just longer than her knees. I dashed around the car to open the door.
"Gee, Nanci, you look really great tonight." She did a doubletake but folded into the passenger seat. By the time, I returned to my seat, she was in role.
"Oh Marc, this is such a perfect night. Are we going to eat outdoors?"
I had left the restaurant decision to now, trying to decide between the beer joint in the hills, and an upscale place in the redwoods. On a hunch, I decided upscale was in.
"Settle back, Nanci, we are definitely eating out tonight."
Ten minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot at Theo's, a well known eatery where my parents went for special occasions. Sandi/Nanci looked at me, eyes stricken. "Marc! We can't go here. It costs a fortune!"
I leaned over and whispered, "My dad is a fan of yours, Nanci. His credit card is in my pocket and he called the Maitre d' about not carding us."
Mario's greeting was warm, "Good evening, my young friends. So nice of you to visit." We were guided to an outside table with a wonderful view down an alley of tall trees. The waiter was there to hand out menus. A few minutes later, two icy cold martinis arrived without our having asked. Nanci looked at it, and then at me. "It's a martini. I've never had one!"
I couldn't tell whether she was putting me on or not. Our crowd wasn't into gin much anymore. But I raised my glass and touched hers, "To us."
My toast and a long sip just about demolished Nanci. "Oh Marc, this is too lovely for words. The martini is so smooth!"
