day flings and not so good ideas

A boy named Rusty with red hair moved into the area and started school.  He was really nice, very intelligent, and we all liked him.  However, I did a bad thing.  I really tried to bamboozle him with smarts.  I don't know why.  I wasn't really smart, but I pretented because Rusty was the kind of guy that fell for smarts and I was being manipulative.  Okay, I can admit it now, and I've repented, so don't judge too harshly.  Plus, I think this is common behavior for seventeen-year olds. Right?  Rusty was a bit older and was leaving on an LDS mission a day after he graduated from high school.  He, unfortunately, also decided to have a nose surgery done right before he left.  He also decided to ask me out on a date. I'd led him on.  I don't remember what we did for the date, but that night he walked me to my front door and turned to me and asked for me to kiss him before he left for two years on his mission.  I looked up at that red hair, the bruised eyes, and the dried blood, snot, and cotton coming out of his nose, and said, "no."  I'm not usually one to turn down an opportunity for kissing, but in this case, it just had to be done.  Rusty was a not so good idea.

Once I was standing near the Colosseum in Rome sightseeing and a young man walked up to me that had tiger eyes - literally.  They were yellow with a black stripe from the pupil down to the bottom.  He spoke some English and with my basic Italian we seemed to understand each other.  He asked if he could show me some sights.  We spent the day together walking in and out of churches and seeing ancient ruins tumble from the middle of modern streets.  He walked me to the bus stop as the sun was going down.  His eyes were so yellow.  I saw that my bus was coming and turned to tell him.  He kissed me hard and his hands slid down my back.  He let me go and I jumped on the bus.  I hung out the door of the bus and watched him wave as the bus drove into the sunset.  Someone should have had a video camera.  This one was a good idea.

I went with my friend to Southern Italy to visit the relatives she had never seen.  She had written letters to all the people with her same last name in this small town.  A few responded and she found her grandfather's brother's descendants.  We spent Christmas with them.  We stayed in their house with their two handsome sons who were about a couple of years older than me.  I was having allergy problems so Maurizio said he would drive me to the pharmacy.  While we were waiting for the prescription in the car, he turned to me, put his hand on my cheek and said I had eyes like big blue flowers (sounds much better in Italian).  We tried to explain later why that pharmacy run took two hours, but I don't think anyone believed us. There's more to this story, but it just can't be put out there on this blog.  Later, he sent me a packet of poetry he had written to me. I think one was about eyes like blue flowers. Maurizio was a bad idea.

I flirted with a boy named John in my A.P. Biology class for an entire school year.  He was a year younger.  There was a big party at a cabin to celebrate graduating and I invited John.  We ended up making out in the attic next to my girlfriend Suzanne who was making out with her current flame.  This sounds awfully strange, but for some reason it wasn't.  On Monday, I was walking down the school hallway and around the corner came John and his steady girlfriend.  We were the only people in the hall.  "Hi, John."  His face turned purple (he had that kind of skin that shows everything he is feeling).  He barely got out a "hi" as we passed.  A year of pent-up chemistry was done in one night.  Here is some pictures of that date.  He's the one in the baseball cap.  I'm the one in the groovy vest and earrings that look like white teacups.  Good idea at the time, bad idea later.

I was on vacation with my Dad in Venice.  My Dad is a very tired traveller. He curls up and goes to sleep whenever he feels like it.  We were at a Cathedral in Venice and he laid down on a marble bench and said that he had to go to sleep.  This is not very fun for a girl full of adventure and energy.  I wandered out to the Piazza San Marco and started taking pictures of the pigeons.  A young man sauntered into the middle of my focused camera lens and then gave me some hand signals.  I lowered my camera and tried to wave him away.  He continued to act like I was taking pictures of him and came toward me.  I explained to him that I was taking pictures of the birds, but he wouldn't believe me.  We went walking and talking. My Italian was still good enough to carry on a conversation.  He was a baker in a restaurant.  He wanted to show me some Venetian sites.  He got a taxi vaporetto for us which we shared with a photographer and two supermodels.  (I am not making this up).  A taxi vaporetto is like a gondola for the locals - cheap and not flashy, but gets you where you want to go.  We went over to an island where there was another small church.  He leaned me against the cool white wall and kissed me and kissed me. We had known each other a whole hour and I was feeling a bit uncomfortable.  I told him that I had to get back to my sleeping father.  I don't think he believed me. We took another taxi back and as we walked back to the piazza he kept pulling my arms and kissing me.  I kept pulling back and saying I had to get back.  We went to where I left my Dad and he stood up, towering over this young Italian man.  They were introduced and he skidaddled quickly away down a sidestreet...never to be heard from again...until now.  This one was a not so good idea.

I was flying home from Europe and sat next to a German man named Mathius.  He worked in Washington State for some huge computer company.  He looked like an Alpine ski guide in a suit.  He was brilliant and we talked for ten hours straight.  I had a huge kink in my neck, but I didn't care.  By the end of the flight, I thought I'd found my match. We had hundreds of things in common.  He gave me his work phone number and told me to call him very soon.  He would fly to see me.  I called the next day and the next day and the next and left messages.  He never called back.  Too bad for him, that wasn't a good idea.

After I got married and was in graduate school, I got a crush on my Jewish Education professor.  He was tall, lean, and had a very wide mustache.  He had a lovely huge schnoze and auburn hair. I love big noses...not the Karl Malden or Jimmy Durante kind, but the Gerard Depardieu, not when he was in Cyrano, type noses.  My professor made me blush and giggle during lectures.  It was ridiculous. I told my husband that I had a crush and was having a hard time writing my papers.  He laughed and said that he already knew.  I got an "A" in the class, which was a very good idea.


I can't wait until all these entries are over and I can tell you about the final and best idea I ever had. I've been married to him since 1993 and all the sideroads I took finally led to him.