Today was my personal anniversary. I was celebrating 30-16-6-3 and six-months. Confused? It's easily really, for thirty years I've been married; for sixteen years I have been the care giver to my disabled wife; it has been six years since my wife and I have had sex; it has been three years since I tried to find relief with and escort and found it is not my style; and it has been six months since I began trying to give up on sex in this lifetime. The last six months have been an interesting experiment. There has been less pressure but I'm lean, healthy, playful, a big tease and still seem to be greatly attracted to women more than I should be at my age. My age has helped. As long as I go to places where the women are under fifty, I am seen as the cute, harmless, old-guy. Whether in business, shooting pool, building houses or pleasing a woman, I'm about as harmless as a swarm of yellow jackets. Still as the saying goes, "It takes two," and the ladies have sent me home alone for a host of excellent reasons.
One beauty at the local bar, I have been trying to impress for five years. She showed some interest, has made out with me and let me get her off with my hands a few times but is really turned off because I am married. She knows I will always accept the responsibility of taking care of my overweight, over-medicated and wheelchair bound wife. It was about her hundred and fifteenth rejection that pushed me to try not flirting with the ladies any more.
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My cell phone was playing some unknown tune when my skill saw spun to a stop.
"Craig, this is Ann Winters, you had me be you partner at pool last Thursday night."
"What a pleasant surprise. I don't get many calls from beautiful women."
"Thank you, but you are as full of blarney during the day as you are at night."
"Alright, since you didn't like that compliment, how about, "Oh, the short, sexy woman with the large breasts and the tiny waist, who was my partner when we whipped the noisy asshole and his wife""
"Oh, I like that description. However, I broke twice and never had to shoot again."
"Are you ready to challenge the entire club this time?"
"No, I was calling to see if you wanted to go for coffee some morning."
"Only angels get up early in the morning and offer to buy coffee."
"I'm pretending to meet that requirement."
"Pick the place; I'll drive half way across the state to have coffee with you."
I was truly surprised by Ann's call. I had drafted her from a nearby stool, when asshole and his wife arrogantly accused everyone at the bar of having unmarried parents and stating that no team could possibly be as good as him and his wife. Ann and I kidded and exchanged non serious bar banter for an hour after the contest. It is usually easy to defeat a drunk, especially after he insulted me twice for refusing to play for money. I had watched him play three games before accepting his taunts.
Ann is about 5'1" and was the classic "spinner" once. Now she is about 50, carries an additional thirty pounds -- mostly in her breasts and ass. Her face shows her age but most thirty- year old women would envy her body and her grace of movement. I had never seen her at the bar before. Several of the young hunks started coming on to her and I found an excuse for her to escape from me. Her tight jeans and tube top screamed "Cougar," so I was avoiding rejection.
At the coffee shop, I returned from my second trip to the little boys' room offering a defense, "Taking a water pill in the morning means I make two relief trips for every cup of coffee."
"I don't have that problem, but that slice of pie would go straight to my thighs and I would waddle around work every day and none of the single men would pay any attention to me."
That line hit me like a ton of bricks. I never had any secrets. Everyone at the bar knew my situation. Quite a few of the patrons and employees have been to my house and have met my wife.
"What's wrong, Craig? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"No, Sweet Thing, I look like I'm thoroughly enjoying coffee with a lovely woman and just realized that I may have made a horrible mistake and may have hurt you."
She sat and looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
"I have gone to the same bar with the same people for a long time. Everyone knows me and my situation. It did not occur to me that you do not know about me."
"I don't know what you are talking about."
"First, I'm sixty, I build houses for fun, I've been retired for many years, I'm very playful, and I am the primary care giver to my disabled wife. Ann, I never had any intension of keeping any secrets from you but I am married."
She was shocked but recovered quickly, "Tell me about your wife."
I felt like shit and I'm sure it showed and reflected in the tone of my voice. "She has a form of Parkinson's, is in a wheelchair and is heavily medicated. People at the bar have known for years; it did not occur to me to tell you."
"You agreed to have coffee with me."
"Yes. It is a great ego boast to have a lovely woman ask me out for coffee and to think she might find me interesting. I have tried and failed dozens of times to find a female friend who understands the responsibilities I have accepted for life. I have never slept around although my wife has urged me to find someone to meet those needs for years. Escorts are not my thing. Please forgive my oversight and know that I was truly excited by your invitation."
"Excited?"
"Wrong word. In our short time together and our phone calls, you were so much fun and I felt good talking to you. I started reconsidering finding a friend with common interests to do things with, travel with and just have fun with. I gave up on such things because of my "baggage."
Our coffee time was cut short. Ann was definitely put off by my admission. My third apology bounced off her closed car window as she drove away.
I did not feel good about myself for the next few weeks. Ann had been a delight. I had foolishly, for the hundredth time gotten my hopes up. I had not thought enough about her and I had hurt her. I just stayed busy building my current spec house and working around my own house to get everything done that spring requires.
Tired, dirty and with a flatbed full of lumber to frame a two room and bath addition on a house I had built ten years ago, I stopped by for a beer at the bar. Brandy, one of the luscious married strippers who I drool over, wrapped herself around me before my eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the bar.
"Where have you been? I've missed you."
"I've missed your greetings and your anatomy lessons. Text me your schedule and let's get back on track for you to give me a table dance once a week. How are your husband and little ones?"
She had to scurry off; it was her turn at the rack. I settled down at the bar for a beer and got greeted by two more dancers. It was just after shift change and one cute little bartender named Sara said, "I want a hug too, but you are a mess."
"I'll promise you a good tip on your next shift if your overlook my dirty shirt and squeeze that lovely body of yours into me before that tall and gruesome boyfriend of yours shows up."
"He's not gruesome."
"Well, he's not my type."