We met at a Parents Without Partners dance on June 21 (the summer solstice and the longest day of the year) in 1997. She had come at the request of another PWP member, though she was reluctant to do so, thinking it would be a waste of time. So she sat in the corner, talking to the president of the chapter. As luck would have it, I was treasurer and had to get the president to sign the check to pay the DJ. I sat down at the table, Jett on one side of the president, me on the other. We greeted each other, then began chatting in a very flirtatious way (and why not? Jett was thin, blond, vivacious). The president soon said “I think I had better get out of the line of fire” and left. We moved closer, chatted a bit more, then began to dance. She told me later that she never would have dated me if I had been a lousy dancer. Fortunately for an old white guy I could dance pretty well (Test #1). I had a similar standard, but the way she moved her hips convinced me that this was a woman that I would like to know better.
After the dance we joined some other members for a 1am breakfast at Bickford’s. Jett had brought no money (she knew that, being thin and blond, men would buy her drinks and she really didn’t expect to meet anyone). I paid for her muffin and coffee and she picked home fries off of my plate. This meal intimacy absolutely infuriated a female member of the party who had been trying to get some dates with me and she stomped off. Not everyone was happy that we met that night.
After breakfast we found a place to park – in her car (no way was she going to get into a strange car with a strange man). We talked until sunrise. Then she had to leave because she had to do a Sunday shift at the department store where she worked. I could go home to sleep. But before we parted ways she asked to see my chest hair – she couldn’t date a man who had no chest hair. Fortunately, I had plenty and showed her (Test #2). I asked her if she shaved her legs. I knew she did, but that was a damn good excuse to put my hand on her leg.
She also asked me if I would be her date to her brother’s wedding, 2 weeks hence. I said I would. Then I suggested a date for the intervening week (no moss grows on this stone). She suggested a road trip to Rockport MA, about an hour away. I said fine.
Rockport, which I have featured several times in this blog, is a lovely town. It is also where she spent many summers of her youth and was her “go to” place to find serenity. It was also where her headstone was located, next to her mother’s, in the Beech Grove Cemetery. So, yes, on our first date we visited her grave.
I will visit it again next week, to put her body beneath her headstone.
After Rockport we went “over the bridge” to Gloucester MA where there was a carnival. We rode the ferris wheel and she ate onion rings. Or, to be precise, she ate the breading of the rings – she didn’t actually like onions, so she pulled the onion out of the breading first. Strange woman. I liked that.
Then we had a drink at a Gloucester pub and had a lively and erotic chat that at some point involved the bartender. We actually got him to blush. He said that was a first. We were very proud. We made a good team.
I will draw a curtain on the rest of the evening. Suffice it to say that from the moment we met at the PWP dance until 2:53pm yesterday, we were an “item.” Barb – the woman who had invited Jett to the dance – had known both of us for several years. She had been trying to fix me up, but not with Jett – with a librarian she knew. She never thought that Jett and I would be a match. She was very mistaken. We were a great match.
We dated for a while, then lived together for several years. We married in 2003 – a French-themed wedding in an Italian restaurant with Irish music. We were nothing if not eclectic.
We went “on the road” in 2012. Our RV life is documented in this blog.
Is was a good life. Because she was a good woman.
I can’t even start to imagine how much I am going to miss her. But I guess I am going to find out.