From: Ethel Anne
To: Shirley (My New Best Friend)
Subject: Blind Date
Shirl, it didn't start great.
The candle, stuck in an ashtray from the No-Tell Motel on my table was disconcerting. I almost bolted. I remembered what you said about not getting any younger and it’s easier to get eaten by a warthog than for a woman of a certain age to find companionship other than at an animal shelter -- so I stayed put.
Soaking up ambiance at Cafe Carpe Diem was easy, most of it stuck to my feet. Squeaking like two chipmunk’s caught in a tar pit, my stilettos were killing me, so I got out my date affirmations and started to chant -- “If I let go of my feelings of pain -- I can wear these shoes long enough to get laid.” -- Relaxing, I momentarily forgot my size 18 derriere was in a size 6 foundation garment and living on borrowed time.
So sue me, I took one tiny breath and bang! -- seams ripped and my dog-eared copy of, Novel Deviations by Evil Editor, slid to the floor and under the seat of the man next to me.
It was Evil Editor himself! His eyes caught mine as he reached under his chair, caressing me with a burning intensity that made me pat myself down to see if all my comma’s were in place.
“Nice shoes -- nice legs -- really nice book,” he said, smiling wickedly as his hand came up from the floor.
Well, Shirl, we talked for hours. He collects English first editions -- my cat's name is Churchill. So much in common, who would of thought?
I’m thinking, June, chartreuse and orange theme, you my dowager of honor..... it’s in the stars!
PS -- Is it, like, normal, to require a contract - “I will follow submission guidelines on all queries related to the relationship,” - before a second date?