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Mr. Took-the-Bait morphed into Farmer. Talk about farm life, cattle, his shooting prowess, trips, my book and assorted topics made phone conversations delightful. Emails flew with daily reports. Weekly he was in town for engaging lunches at numerous new restaurants. My fave was Stronghill. One dinner invite I declined as I’m never available for a last minute engagement after Wednesday. (A single woman rule learned from a single mentor.)
Farmer accepted my invite in early August to go to a friend’s wedding in DC in late August. Then I heard nothing for three weeks. “Should I email? Should I call?” I wondered. “What is this all about?”
The wedding date was getting closer and if he wasn’t going, I was taking a girlfriend. I had to know. Enough of this silence.
“Would you come to my place for a visit? Come for the weekend and we’ll go on to the wedding on Saturday.” his email said, replying to my inquiry “Do you still want to go to the wedding at the end of the month?”
“Something’s missing” was a hunch. No contact for three weeks and I wasn’t about to get myself in a bad situation. Carefully I crafted my reply “Let’s meet in Fredericksburg at 0 dark early and make it a day trip". He agreed.
At the wedding, Farmer was charming. He declined my request for a dance to check out dancing skills he claimed to have. Chats were on a variety of topics and engaging, especially over the omission of the word “obey” from the vows. Note to self – what’s the big deal?
On the return drive to Fredericksburg he invited me to his home for the weekend. This time I accepted for mid September, three weeks later. A wave to each other in our separate cars headed to our respective homes was “Goodbye. It was fun.”
When in Fredericksburg, I always get a Carls treat. Savoring Carl’s dessert, I relived the day. The wedding was beautiful, the most exquisite I’ve seen, no detail left out; being with Farmer; seeing old friends all in the lush setting of George Washington’s River Farm were as delicious as the frozen treat.
“Something’s not right. Something's missing. ” my intuition strongly resounded. I added up the numbers – years married to first wife, years married to second wife left an 8 year gap, no matter how I added. “Something’s missing. ” was the echo.
“No kidding” I replied. “But what is it? I'm no math whiz but 8 years is a life span. What in the world....”
What's missing?
It’s another ‘wearing a wet, wooly dog’ day in RVA. The air conditioning at California Pizza will feel mighty good for lunch with Mr. Took-the-Bait, fresh from match.com. Resolve, commitment and action are a powerful combo to make things happen.
I’m hungry, sweaty and anxious about this ‘blind date’. How many years has it been since my last one? What are his social skills like? What will he be like? Will I like him? The questions go on and on.
California Pizza is packed. “Here I am” I hear after asking the hostess if a lone man has been seated. As I turn and see Mr. Took-the-Bait, I jump. He’s 8’ tall! Guess I missed that part of his profile.
Ever the gentleman he orders my lunch after taking my selections. He says nice things and asks about me. Points for him. Soon our conversation turns to him, naturally, revealing he has a child living in RVA, not far from my house. He lives on a several hundred acre farm near Charlottesville with Angus cattle, making him a ‘gentleman farmer.’ He has been successful in business and seems comfortable in his skin.
He tells me I can trust him and never have to be afraid when I’m with him. He’ll protect me. “What’s that about?” I wonder. The thought that I'd be afraid or need protecting never occured to me.
The waiter interrupts us to apologize for the nearby screaming kid that would send a terrorist running away. We sympathize with him, wish him well in dealing with that and question how the mother stands it.
When lunch is over, he walks me to my car. He guesses I drive a sporty little BMW or Mercedes. How wrong he was when he saw big ole Glory B sitting there, regally taking up her 4 parking places. After saying thanks for lunch and asking if he can take me out again, we say adieu. He climbs into a huge Albemarle County red mud covered SUV and drives away.
It was fun and got me looking forward to more dates. I certainly was excited about the success. And my intuition said “Something’s missing.”
I’m hungry, sweaty and anxious about this ‘blind date’. How many years has it been since my last one? What are his social skills like? What will he be like? Will I like him? The questions go on and on.
California Pizza is packed. “Here I am” I hear after asking the hostess if a lone man has been seated. As I turn and see Mr. Took-the-Bait, I jump. He’s 8’ tall! Guess I missed that part of his profile.
Ever the gentleman he orders my lunch after taking my selections. He says nice things and asks about me. Points for him. Soon our conversation turns to him, naturally, revealing he has a child living in RVA, not far from my house. He lives on a several hundred acre farm near Charlottesville with Angus cattle, making him a ‘gentleman farmer.’ He has been successful in business and seems comfortable in his skin.
He tells me I can trust him and never have to be afraid when I’m with him. He’ll protect me. “What’s that about?” I wonder. The thought that I'd be afraid or need protecting never occured to me.
The waiter interrupts us to apologize for the nearby screaming kid that would send a terrorist running away. We sympathize with him, wish him well in dealing with that and question how the mother stands it.
When lunch is over, he walks me to my car. He guesses I drive a sporty little BMW or Mercedes. How wrong he was when he saw big ole Glory B sitting there, regally taking up her 4 parking places. After saying thanks for lunch and asking if he can take me out again, we say adieu. He climbs into a huge Albemarle County red mud covered SUV and drives away.
It was fun and got me looking forward to more dates. I certainly was excited about the success. And my intuition said “Something’s missing.”
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