sex socks salsa belch: more vignettes from an evolving relationship

anniversaries

‘Evolving’ is the operative word in that title: not counting the abortive correspondence between us in August 2006, when, with a different profile and different photo, I wrote Plan C and was summarily rejected because of the distance between our dwellings, Plan C first emailed me on 5 February, 48 days ago. I met Plan C in person only 43 days ago. We spent our first night together 38 days ago.

Every time there is a weekly anniversary of one of those occasions, Plan C mentions it.

Easter Sunday, after consuming only champagne (we toasted his son and prospective daughter-in-law, who had just become engaged the evening before and dropped by my apartment to say hello), coffee, jelly beans, and diet coke, I gave a loud belch in Plan C’s presence.

PLAN C: (looks up, startled and amused)

MIMI: Is that the first belch of mine you’ve heard?

PLAN C: I think it is.

MIMI: Are you going to note the anniversary of it?

PLAN C: Maybe I will.

socks

You may remember that sometimes I wear patterned socks.

The second time I wore some of these while with Plan C, I couldn’t fail to notice him looking at them.

MIMI: You think I shouldn’t wear these??

PLAN C: Welllllllllllllll….

MIMI: That’s why they told me at Peter and Co. [where I get my hair done], Don’t wear them on a first date. But it’s not a first date any more.

PLAN C: No….

MIMI: But you don’t like them.

PLAN C: Not really.

MIMI: What don’t you like about them? I thought they liven things up.

PLAN C: You look like a bag lady, or like you’re going to the gym.

MIMI: Oh!

(Long pause….)

MIMI: But I don’t go to a gym, and if I did, I wouldn’t wear fancy socks like these.

PLAN C: Well, that’s what they look like.

MIMI: I don’t really see them that way. But I don’t wear them when I’m dressed up.

PLAN C: I shouldn’t have said anything. Wear them if you like them.

MIMI: I like to know your opinion. It’s important to me. You’re not the only one who says that about these socks. I’ll think it over.

* * *
In the event, I didn’t wear them that day, though I continue to wear them occasionally, possibly slightly less often than I otherwise would have, in Plan C’s presence.

* * *

Fast forward to Thursday 20 March. Plan C had driven six hours on a weekday to hear me give a speech, and on the way back, we were stopping to visit his favorite relatives, Uncle H (92) and Aunt F (82), to whom he was eager to introduce me.

Not for the speech, but for the long drive, I was wearing these socks, which are relatively new, and which I love:

But I packed in my pocketbook, so I could change in the car just before we arrived at Uncle H’s and Aunt F’s, a pair of plain black nylon socks.

As we neared their house, I reached for my pocketbook, took out the black socks, and began changing.

PLAN C: Oh Mimi, you don’t need to do that.

MIMI: I want to keep you happy.

PLAN C: I’m happy if you’re happy.

MIMI: But don’t you think I should look the way you prefer when I meet Uncle H and Aunt F?

PLAN C: I want you to look like Mimi.

(Pause.)

MIMI: Okay then, I won’t change!

PLAN C: Good.

* * *

In the car 2.5 hours later, after dinner and a lovely visit with Uncle H and Aunt F:

PLAN C: They really liked you. When you were in the bathroom, Uncle H said, ‘We approve of Mimi,’ and Aunt F said, ‘More than approve!’

MIMI: That’s nice! I’m glad to hear that.

(Pause.)

MIMI: But can’t you imagine them saying to each other now, ‘Mimi’s wonderful for Plan C. You can see how happy she’s made him…..But those socks!! They’re so weird!’

PLAN C: Not weird!

MIMI: Not weird?

PLAN C: No, not weird……just……peculiar.

* * *

dancing together

Plan C is a free-spirited dancer. He never took dancing lessons but looks really fantastic on a dance floor.

I have a learning disability when it comes to dancing; I have to struggle to look like a passable dancer. But I love dancing, and I’m always taking lessons. Since 1974, I’ve taken classes in Vaudeville dance, tap, modern, ballet, and swing.

Plan C likes Latin dancing, so my teacher has been working with me on the merinque and on salsa, and Plan C has been coming to those classes, so my teacher can watch us together.

It feels sort of like Car Talk, when the guys talk to one member of a couple about the way the other one drives.

My teacher watches with amusement as I attempt to dance ‘with’ Plan C.

Final analysis:

1) Plan C and I can do the merinque pretty well together. Fortunately I (who had never done it or even knowingly seen it before 10 days ago) don’t find it very difficult.

2) What Plan C calls a salsa, what he does when he says he’s dancing the salsa, is actually (says my teacher) a ‘travelling merinque.’

But it’s all right, says the teacher, and Plan C should just keep doing that and I should learn to follow him in those steps, because

3) Plan C always hears the beat and keeps good time with his dancing. I should just do whatever he’s doing.

free the mickelson two

Assume, for the sake of this story, that my last name is Mickelson (it isn’t).

Upon occasion, Plan C and I (like many couples) are in bed undressing one another. When it’s time for my bra to come off, Plan C uses political discourse.

He says, ‘Free the Mickelson Two!’

sexual histories

I like to hear all about Plan C’s adventures in bed with other women. I like every little detail, from what they wore to what he did and what she liked to what she did and what he liked.

Plan C does not want to hear anything about my adventures in bed with other men. He has made it clear that stories like that would upset him, so I haven’t told him any.

* * *

That’s all.

Just thought you’d find the contrast interesting….

where have all the skirts gone?

I have a million black skirts.

I thought it was time I got a couple that were another color; even I’m getting tired of wearing black skirts all the time.

Plan C expressed interest in going shopping with me. I was trying to remember the last time I went shopping with a man, and I couldn’t. Maybe 1970?? Certainly no man has ever, ever expressed interest in being with me while I shopped.

So we gave it a try: on Saturday we did a thorough search of the second and third floors of Bloomingdales, and there were almost no skirts. Then, in an attempt to find the biggest selections with the least amount of walking, we tried Lord & Taylor’s, the second, third, fourth, and fifth floors: they had more than Bloomingdales, but still there were Almost No Skirts. Those we saw were either straight (like the kind stewardesses used to wear, the skirt that goes with 1950s-style suits) or boxy-looking and pleated, really unattractive on most figures, I think.

This seems to be the season for pants and for sundresses, but not for skirts.

* * *

Here’s what I want: tell me if you know where in Manhattan I can find something like this.

I want a skirt that is either knee-length or mid-calf, in a light-weight, ideally a flowing, floaty sort of fabric, in a style that is sort of swishy, like a trumpet skirt or a loose a-line skirt.

And not black, and not a huge or a garish pattern; preferably a solid color, though it doesn’t have to be. A very light-weight, light-colored denim might be all right.

Where should I be looking????????

* * *

The only shopping luck: Plan C found some sneakers for himself for under $50, and I found some soft jelly beans at Duane Reade.

* * *

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