For the Love of Gigi
I'm Mickey. I was 39 at the time this story began. I'm 6'3 and a bit on the hefty side, hovering around 240, modestly handsome. My ancestry is from all over Western Europe, I'm about half Irish, inheriting from both sides. I'm so white I glow in the dark. I'm a second-generation California native. My family was dysfunctional, and I was a bit of a loner in high school.
Relationships have not been easy for me - I lost my virginity at 24 to an older coworker at the factory where I was an apprentice machinist. She gave me the first compliment about romance/sexuality I got in my life, "You are surprisingly good for your first time. Are you sure you sure you haven't eaten pussy before? I think you have a gift. You came fast on our first fuck, but oh my God, you made up for it the second time."
I thanked her profusely; it was most gratifying to be good at something I really enjoyed doing. She was long time divorced and had no interest in a relationship but looked me up when she was horny. She also recommended me to several of her girlfriends in the ballpark of her age. Several of them helped in teaching me the best use of my natural talents. I found satisfying a woman was very important to me--an attitude that was much appreciated by the ladies.
After about eighteen months of this, I was confident enough to try dating women my own age, with mixed success. The dates would involve sex most of the time with no complaints on either side about quality. The difficult thing was maintaining the non-sexual relationship. I was quite bright, Mensa-level, and I was basically wasting my talent in the factory. I'd never gone to college because of my emotional dysfunction, not because of intellectual issues. In fact, I was highly self-educated. Family issues can really mess you up--and that happened to me.
So very few of my dates really understood me nor did I them. I got a reputation as a know-it-all. That can be fatal in blue-collar relationships, and truthfully most of the women were a bit boring outside the bedroom. So many relationships, nothing lasting. I overheard more than one woman saying words like "he's a really good fuck and a legendary tongue artist, but a pain in the ass outside the bedroom."
Just before my thirty-ninth birthday, there was an economic downturn in our industry and the parent company closed the factory. As we were a union shop, our contract specified a rather generous severance package. I was getting rather tired of the work I was doing. I thought this was an opportunity for a career change. Something more white-collar seemed more suitable--and might lead me to meeting a different type of women--ones nearer my intellectual equals. I was excited by the prospect. Not to mention not finishing every workday covered with machine oil.
At this time (near the turn of the millennium), many businesses were hiring computer programmers right and left to cope with the Y2K bug. I had learned a bit of hobbyist programming, and concluded that with proper training, I could be good at this. I enrolled in a computer school in LA, and I was right. I would graduate
summa cum laude
with an AA in Computer Science and Programming eighteen months later.
Classes were mostly a breeze. I spent much of class time tutoring the lesser students--who were still quite bright. I got to my first class late--the government recently required all enrollees who had student loans to see an anti-drug film before starting classes, and in the admissions office's eagerness to admit me ASAP after seeing my test results, they neglected to schedule a screening in the day between the admission test and the first day of classes. When I arrived and was reading my class schedule, an admissions officer tapped me on the shoulder and led me to the film room to see the movie.
I commented, "I'm 39 years old, and if watching friends die of overdoses won't keep me off drugs, this stupid film won't do the trick." My objections were noted, and my attendance duly recorded. By the way, I have never used recreational drugs, drink in moderation (beer and wine only), and never touched hard liquor.
When I finally got to class, there was only one seat open. I seated myself next to an attractive young lady. Only about 20% of the students were women, so the attractive ones were quite popular. She looked to be early to mid-20's, about 5'2", a bit on the hefty side of average, but with weight in all the right places. Brown hair tending toward the blonde end of the spectrum, light olive skin, and a very pretty face.
I wasn't looking for anything relationship-wise, but she smiled at me as I sat down. It was then I discovered she also had a beautiful smile. I returned it after the few seconds it took me to catch my breath. Damn, even if I were looking, she was about 15 years too young. Why did she have to look so fine? Was the Man Upstairs pulling a joke at my expense? Well considering the pranks I'd played at the factory, maybe I had it coming.
The room had eight tables that seated five for a class size of 40. A bit large, but it was an introductory class, and several would drop out along the way. At our first break, the people at my table introduced ourselves. Two of the guys were memorable, though my primary interest was the young lady: hey, my mind had decided I wasn't interested, but my hormones had me on automatic pilot. We've all been there.
Ron was a genius whose IQ exceeded my own, but he could scarcely write a sentence that ordinary minds could understand. I later discovered he wrote brilliant but incomprehensible code. I tutored him in writing comprehensibly and borrowed some of his brilliant code ideas. He was an odd duck, believing in the Celtic old religion and asserting the real existence of elves, fairies, orcs, vampires, werewolves.... He was dating a goth girl who he later broke up with because she was "too dark" (emotionally/spiritually - her complexion was whiter than mine even before applying whiteface.) I had a morbid curiosity about how dark she would be if she was darker than Ron, but I never followed up on that.
Greg was 22 and a class clown type, but a very good student. We bantered back and forth and became good friends, since I was a class clown myself in my younger days and had been the comedian of the machine shop. He introduced the young woman as "Gigi, the resident stone fox of the school that every guy wants to fuck, even the gay guys."
Gigi both blushed and smiled. Greg had tried unsuccessfully to date her several times, they knew each other from before school. She said, "oh stop it, Greg!" but it was obvious she liked the crude compliment though she wasn't interested in him.
I introduced myself next, saying" I'm Mickey," talking about myself and finishing with "Gigi, I'd never be as crude about it as Greg was, but he's not wrong. You are very beautiful. Tell us more about yourself."
She said "I'm 24 and a single mom. I have a two-year-old daughter. The father is not in the picture, he ran out on me when I got pregnant. We were drunk that night, and I was too sloshed to take precautions. He, of course, didn't care. I had terrible taste in men then, but Sophie is a joy. I don't date much, not too many guys want a woman with a kid. I must be careful these days anyway. My mom watches Sophie while I go to school, but I don't have much free time."
I understand why she wasn't interested in Greg, she needed someone more mature and stable. Later, he found a woman he was more suitable for. I couldn't help wondering if I checked the boxes for Gigi. I had dates with single moms before and it wasn't an issue for me. I was stable, yes, mature, well I need to get back to you on that. It probably wasn't going anywhere anyway, so I figured there was no harm in getting to know her better. I said, "you don't hear the name Gigi often, but it's lovely."
She answered, "Mickey, that's sweet. Mom was a big fan of the old movie with Leslie Caron. I don't get the culture with mistresses and courtesans, but it's romantic." I came to understand that Gigi had trouble seeing herself as beautiful, so compliments both thrilled and embarrassed her. A gift no doubt given by one or several asshole boys masquerading as men. I know if I were her age and we were in a relationship, I'd have practically worshipped the ground she walked on--hell, a little part of me was tempted to do it anyway in the here and now, but a 39-year-old man should know better. I had already decided that I would be quite happy being a friend to her if she were so inclined.
Gigi was indeed so inclined. The next months were mostly taken up with studying, and I earned some extra cash tutoring. I tutored Gigi extensively, always for free as I knew she was in a tough financial situation. She was brilliant, we could talk about anything with mutual understanding, but she had a far harder time with understanding code than I did. Her gifts were in the arts, not math--but in the nineties, computers were where the money was, and she was determined to support her daughter as well as possible, including a college education. I admired her fierce determination and was equally determined to help her as much as I could.
We often had lunch as a group, Gigi, Greg, and I most times, sometimes others, but often Greg would have lunch plans elsewhere and it would be Gigi and I by ourselves, usually for combined lunch/tutoring session in the cafeteria. A few times when she needed to relax, I'd take her to lunch at a nearby restaurant. If it wasn't too frequent or too fancy, I could afford it, she couldn't begin to. Occasionally, she'd scrape together enough to buy me a cup of coffee. It didn't matter, her honest gratitude and the pleasure of her company were more than payment enough.
Over the months, I came to understand that Gigi had become a superb woman. She had completely settled down from her wild days, while keeping the charm and the adventurousness that attracted men in the first place and being a single mom had brought her a poise and maturity that rivalled that of many women my age. I also found myself caring about her more and more as friend and as a woman.
Each moment I spent with her caused me to fall deeper in love with her, loving her and wanting her in equal proportion. My mind kept telling me no. She'd never love or want an old fart such as me. Neither my heart nor my hormones wanted to listen. Thank God they didn't.
My history of emotional dysfunction almost succeeded in killing the love growing in me. Yet it was obvious that Gigi enjoyed me immensely, was it too much to think love just might be growing in her?
I started to wonder if I should reconsider my concerns about our age gap. Truth is that was a bullshit reason in the first place. For two people loving each other with their entire beings, does age matter a two-penny damn? Dare I hope she could feel that way about me? I knew better than I knew my own name I could feel that way about her--my God, I already did.
