Author's note:
To any Trolls: Go fuck yourself!
To everyone else:
So
HikingThru
posted a story the other day called "Feb Sucks - Talking it Out." I read it once and enjoyed it but went to check out the original, "February Sucks" by GeorgeAnderson. After reading George's post and seeing that he had an open offer to write my own. I went back to Hicking's and re-read his offering again. Still loved it. 5 Stars, easy.
But George's original story? Well, the beginning was brilliant! All the way to the last few pages. But the last couple of pages just read as, contrived. I mean it felt like the couple got back together because that is what GEORGE wanted to happen. Now, I'm not saying I don't like reconciliation pieces, I do. If they're done well. But in this one? I just didn't buy it. Which was a shame since the first 2/3rds of the story broke my fucking heart. It was so well crafted.
But the ending? Well, it made me want to write this.
P.S. For those of you who have read George's piece you will recognize a LOT of his text. Especially at the beginning. But there are major changes once Marc shows up.
____________________________________________________________________________
Paraphrased from
GeorgeAnderson:
The conversation:
At a conference. About 20 of us, men and women, most married, at a watering hole one evening. The locals were hitting pretty heavily on the women at our table. While we winced at their attempts. One particularly bad approach drew the comment, "He's lucky I like this beer, otherwise he'd be wearing it."
"So what if it had been [famous football player: call him Jocko] saying that to you? Would he have scored?" Another woman asked.
"Hell, yes!" "Absolutely!" It was unanimous.
"What if it meant, you know...?"
"Especially if it meant that!" The women's laughter was genuine; the guys' was a little forced.
Understand, these women weren't dogs who couldn't get a date: they ranged from pretty to downright hot. They were in their late twenties and early thirties, and dressed for a night out.
"Um, what would you tell your husband?" one of the guys asked hesitantly.
"Um, why would I tell my husband?" The reply was instantaneous, and greeted with laughter and head-nodding from the women.
"What if your husband was here?" the guy persisted. We could all hear the anxiety in his voice.
One of the women, Shannon I think her name was, leaned forward with her elbows on the table and looked him dead in the eye. I remembered her from lunch; she'd been showing off pictures of her husband and their perfectly adorable five-year-old girl. "I would tell him that he knows how much I love him, and he knows I'll always come back to him, but I'm not going to pass up this opportunity, and I'll see him sometime tomorrow." She spoke calmly and kindly but with determination. None of us could doubt that she meant exactly what she said.
Several guys' jaws dropped considerably; I know mine was one.
"No, you wouldn't," the guy next to me muttered. The woman looked at him pityingly.
"Yes, I would, and I think every woman here would do the same."
"You might leave with him tonight, but if I was your husband, you sure as hell wouldn't see me tomorrow." He was as serious as she was.
Another woman tried to fix things. "Listen, I love my husband, I wouldn't trade him for anything. Jocko doesn't mean anything to me and never will, and he probably wouldn't even remember my name the next morning. But spending a night with him, just one night out of our whole marriage, would be something I could remember for the rest of my life. An event, you know, with a capital E? It would have nothing to do with the way I feel about my husband. Afterward, I would go home to the man I love, and everything would be like it was before."
"Ha!" I heard a genuine mirthfilled laugh from Hayden.
I knew his name because he still wore the nametag from the convention. I told him he still had it on long ago but he said he liked it. With a perverse smile he asked if I wanted to touch it. I was confused until I heard everyone laughing and realized he was messing with me. But now? There was something about that laugh that said he wasn't actually amused.
"You think I'm lying?" Shannon almost barked.
Hayden shook his head. "I don't know if you are or aren't. I'm just trying to figure out who convinced you girls that the only thing you bring to the party is your vagina?"
There was a sharp inhale of breath as every woman at the table wanted to be offended.
"
Excuse
me!?" Shannon declared.
"You heard me." He smiled. "I didn't come down here with you gals because I thought I'd get laid. I came down here to drink with you because I enjoy your company. You're all smart, capable, funny and
yes
, beautiful. You have so much to offer this world but somehow, somewhere, someone convinced you that
who
you fuck. Is more important than your accomplishments? Your family?...Your daughter, Shannon? Seriously?...You're willing to lose your family for some dick from some dirtbag stranger you don't even know?"
She shook her head. "I wouldn't lose my family."
Hayden shook his head back at her. "I'd believe you if you could actually find
any - man
that agreed with you."
____________________________________________________________________________
My "February sucks"
Worst month ever. My wife Linda and I had planned to have a magical Valentine's day but snowpocalypse put an end to that. The kids were ecstatic, snow days? Emma and Tommy wanted more of that! Which begs the question, just how bad is 1st Grade and Pre-K when your kids act like it's a Gulag. I mean I loved the time I got with my wife and children, but I would've liked some romantic time with my wife too.
And just when I thought the whole month would have to be written off, Linda got a call from our friend Dee. Dee and her husband Dave, along with Phil and his wife Jane, were some of our closest friends. Dee called with just a heck of an idea. Us and several other couples would get babysitters, rooms at The Four Seasons. Then eat at one of our favorite restaurants, The Madison. Before dancing it up at Morrison's, a club Dave knew about.
So, absolutely! Let's salvage this horrid month!
Linda isn't classically beautiful, but she has an innate sense of style: everything she wears not only looks great on her, but it reflects who she is.
It was blue. The dress Linda wore. It made her blue eyes look like they would glow in the dark. It was long sleeved and high necked, and the skirt came below her knees. The bottom of the skirt was flared, and rippled just enough as she walked to attract attention. When she danced, it would flirt all on its own. The smooth, tight but not too tight, fabric made you want to run your hands all over it, as it concealed and displayed the slim, womanly shape beneath. Linda smiled as she slowly sacheted down the stairs to where I waited for her, dumbstruck and gaping.
Our group met at the restaurant. We laughed and talked and enjoyed a great meal, happy in each other's company and glad that February was finally ending. Linda was the most attractive woman in the room, and I must have told her so a half dozen times. I looked for any excuse to touch her and she returned the favor and smiled into my eyes. This was going to be a night to remember.
We checked into our rooms before we headed over to the club. She excused herself to go to our room alone for a few minutes. I took that break to make sure the four viagra I had slipped into my suit pocket at home were still there. Linda returned with her suggestive little "I'm gonna get you so good" smile on her face.
"We don't really have to spend very long at the club, do we?" She whispered to me. I knew how much Linda enjoyed dancing with our friends, so she might as well have said "I'd better not have to wait too long before we're alone together." I grinned right back at her.
We'd reserved a table for ten at the club, and it was a good thing we had. It seems a lot of other people were busy forgetting February, but they weren't too busy to notice the five women in our group.
"You're attracting a lot of attention, babe," I whispered to Linda. "You're the most attractive woman in the room, as usual."
"Oh, you." She looked up at me, lightly pressing a soft breast into my arm. "You don't have to say those things, even though I like hearing them."
"But I do have to," I responded. "Truth is truth, after all. You can't have opinions about truth."
She glowed even brighter.
I danced with the love of my life, with occasional breaks for hot wings and a drink. And returning from one drink run I heard Linda say, "I'd love to, Dave, and I would another time, but I want to make tonight special for Jim and me. I'm only dancing with him tonight."
You can't imagine how big my ego was right then.
A few minutes later, the band took a break. In the relative quiet, we could hear loud laughter from another table, and turned to look.
"Hey, isn't that Marc LaValliere?" Phil was craning around me to see.
"It is, it is!" Dee squealed excitedly. Marc LaValliere was the star tight end on our city's football team. He had the reputation of being a genuinely good guy, and he was as well known for his community activities. "It doesn't hurt that he's a hunk, either," Dee put in.
Linda and I both knew who he was, but we weren't very interested in anything besides each other just then. The band started playing again.
"Shall we dance here, or upstairs?" I whispered to Linda.
But before she could reply, Jane interrupted.
"Look! He's coming this way!" Sure enough, Marc LaValliere had left his table and was heading for ours. I was amused by the reaction of the women at our table. Four of them primped and strutted, all but saying "pick me, pick me!" Linda looked downward, and held my hand a little tighter.
"Hi, I'm Marc. Would you like to dance?" He was standing behind Linda's left shoulder, holding his hand out to her.
Linda dropped my hand like a sack of shit. I watched dumbstruck as she turned her back to me, gave Marc her right hand and gracefully rose from her chair.
My friends figured out pretty quickly that I didn't think any of this was funny. I had a stupid kind of 'what the fuck!' expression on my face through the first part of the first song. But that quickly changed to a very angry expression as I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair. The band played a couple of fast songs, and the whole club watched them dance. Linda was clearly enjoying herself. Her partner and her dress combined to show her off to perfection.
"Don't they look great together? Come on, Jim, let's join them," Dee invited, clearly trying to distract me
I didn't answer. This was supposed to be OUR special night and now some celebrity douchebag just stepped in and ruined it. The next song was a slow one. I watched Linda melt into his arms, fitting perfectly as though she belonged there. Then another slow song, a ballad this time. Marc was smiling as he held Linda in his arms; he was clearly pleased with whatever was going on. I'm glad someone was happy. I was trying to figure out just how 'pissed off' was too much. Finally, the song ended. Marc nodded at the band leader, who started a faster song. He and Linda left the dance floor, smiling at each other, but not touching, not even holding hands. Linda gave him a last brilliant smile as she turned toward our table and Marc turned toward his.
As Linda neared our table and our eyes met, her best smile faded to her second-best. But that faded completely when she realized I was NOT smiling. She looked away from me, across the table at Dee.
"I'm sorry, everyone, I just have to go to the restroom right now. Linda, come with me?" Dee's voice could be heard far beyond our table. I was too angry to wonder why she had to broadcast this to the room at large. Linda looked at me apologetically.
"Sorry, Jim. I can use some freshening up, too." She rose and left.
