Author's note: This story is true to the best of my recollection although time and my limited, male perspective have clouded the facts.
Working Title: Why Frank sings the blues...
While on the road to discovering religion in its various forms I stumbled upon Spiritualism. To an outsider, the de facto séances seem too bizarre for words but to someone coming from evangelical extremes through Buddhism it was just strange enough to keep me interested. So I became a regular.
Our "church" was in the basement of the ministers' house. The ministers were husband and wife, both ordained as spiritualist ministers who acted as our guides through the surreal, spiritual world. Each "service" started with us seated in chairs in the basement holding undeveloped film against our heart chakra. Some people were actually able to produce astounding images of faces on the film. Mine always looked like a white cat in a snowstorm. After a prayer of protection the lights were turned out and we sat in complete darkness while our guide invited spirits to join us.
As spirits talked to some of us, we would tell our impressions to the group in hopes that the message may be meant for someone there. This frequently involved somewhat cryptic messages and often held only vague symbolism. Regardless of my current skepticism, at the time I believed it wholeheartedly.
Our group consisted of the ministers, and three to five regulars. I was one, Jeanine a divorced single mother in her mid thirties, was another regular. Steve was another college student to come irregularly and a few others whom I cannot now recall. On this particular night, I remember being seated across from Jeanine. She was one of those ladies. One who was attractive but owing to circumstances of life believed herself to not be. She had the most beautiful long red hair and green eyes I have ever seen.
I remember that my visions were not as frequent as the others but on this particular night...
"Jeanine," I asked, "do you have a new love interest?"
"No" she replied. "I see you preparing to be with someone. You are made up and have on a long green satin negligee. You seem to be waiting for someone."
"Do you see who it is?" she asked.
"No" I replied all I have is this image, sorry."
We moved on after that, various people had messages for each of us but I had nothing more. The class ended and once again my photo was blank as it could be. Jeanine had a rather interesting something or other. I did not really see anything in the swirls but some people seemed to make out a face. In my own defense, each of us had "talents." The spiritual guide was not one of my talents, so I rarely had anything of value to offer. But if someone wanted psychometric, then I was one to ask. Psychometrics was the ability to discern something from the energies on an object. I could pick up a watch and tell who owned it by the energy impression on it. Often I could tell something about the previous owner for antiques and such. It really was quite fun to do.
As the meeting ended, Jeanine invited me to coffee. I had nowhere to go so I accepted. We went to the local Denny's and had a nice chat and coffee. During our discussion it occurred to me that she was flirting. After nearly an hour of this I realized that she might actually be interested in me. I have always been slow on the uptake with this sort of thing and to have a woman fifteen years my senior who, in my eyes, was a raving beauty, interested, took a while to comprehend.
Finally after two or three figurative thwacks on my head with a two by four, I got it. She wanted me to ask her out. So I said "Jeanine, are you doing anything Saturday evening?"
"Why no," she answered in obvious relief.
"Would you like to join me for dinner?" I asked.
"That would be lovely," she answered.
"I have a membership to the Playboy club; they have a great comedy act, would you like to see it?"
"I have always wondered what it was like, I'd love to go with you." she replied. And it was set; I told her I tended to dress up for it as the club is very upscale.
As a note, at the time the club was new and by far the classiest place in the Midwestern town in which I lived. It also had the benefit of a genuine nightclub show which no other place had. People tended to overlook the presence of women in bunny costumes serving the drinks. Ok, I was younger then and not so very bright, but I truly believed this was a good place for a date, mainly because they called me Mr. (name omitted) the whole evening.
Not bad for a barely twenty one year old.
Saturday night eventually arrived and I picked her up in my three-piece suit (complete with fake watch fob) armed with a dozen long stemmed yellow roses. I was an incurable romantic and these little gestures went a long way. Off we went, in her car as mine was not nearly as classy. Hers was a yellow 280Z while mine was a red and white Pinto with Scotch Plaid interior (my grandmother gave it to me, I still cannot believe they made one that ugly).
Off we went, and had the loveliest time wining and dining and laughing uproariously at the comedy act. I remember it was an extremely large lady (perhaps 400 pounds) who leaned against a bar stool and told fat jokes all night (which at my present weight are not nearly so funny). Afterwards, she invited me in to her house and we sat on the sofa and talked until 2:00 A.M.
