Tuesday, August 28, 2007

An affair to remember..... almost.

Every once in awhile I would I catch a glimpse of her.

God she was beautiful.

Dark and tan.

She was exotic yet wholesome.

Distant and yet only a moment away.

Her shapely curves were born to drive men like me wild.

I knew she saw me too.

I knew she wanted me.

I could tell.

Normally I would have walked right past her.

But today was different.

I don’t know what compelled me to stop.

I think it was something I saw on TV that reminded me of her.

I don’t know.

My head was spinning.

My heart was pounding.

My stomach rumbling.

Should I go over to her?

What if she’s not there?

Would I look foolish?

God what am I doing?

My wife would kill me?

What would my kids say?

I’m fifty years old I shouldn’t be doing this.

My head told me to stop but my heart and every other organ told me to go for it.

Yes! I could see her now.

She was behind the glass.

Sitting near the window.

My god she was amazing.

I inched closer.

Soon I was right up against the glass.

I felt like a kid at an aquarium.

I put my hands around my face and pressed up against the glass pretending to be looking at anything else inside.

I must look like an idiot.

Oh god she must have seen me.

I’m such a fool.

Just go inside I kept telling myself.

Just go inside.

But if I went inside…..

If I crossed that line…..

Could I ever forgive myself?

There she is.


She’s gorgeous.

What was I thinking?

Why would she ever want me?

My money?

I have money.

I’m sure with my money I could have her.

But would she be happy?

I know for a moment she would.

I could make her happy for a moment.

But would I be happy?

God yes!

I’d be ecstatic.

I would feel reborn.

Whole again.


This is meant to be.

It’s Fate.


Now is the time.

This is my moment.

The time when a man feels………….

“What the hell are you doing?”


“What are you looking at?”

“I said nothing.”

“What did you stop for?”

“I didn’t stop.”

“What’s in the window?”

“Nothing…. okay? Cut me some slack.”

“Oh my god. You were looking at that German Chocolate Cake weren’t you?”


“You can’t eat that. Get over it.”

“I wasn’t going to eat that cake.”

“What were you going to do? Take it to dinner and a movie?”

“I don’t want the cake. She is beautiful though isn’t she? Look at her frosting. Damn that’s a thick layer of frosting.”

“You’re pathetic Calabrese.”

“What? I’m just admiring how perfectly she’s frosted.”

“She? You’re really calling a cake a she?”

“Yes all baked goods are referred to in the feminine form.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m not having cake okay? I’m just looking. A bakery is like an art gallery to someone who’s always on a damn diet. It’s not just cake it’s art. We look but we don’t touch. We fantasize about what it would be like to own a particular piece but that’s it. Now lighten up and give me a break.”

“So you have your money clip in your hand because you just wanted to give Andrew Jackson a massage?”

“I… um… Oh… I didn’t realize I had my money clip out. I was… uh… just making sure a pickpocket didn’t get it. Lot of pickpockets in malls especially food courts.”

“Look numbnuts do you have any idea how many calories there are in a piece of German chocolate cake?”

“It’s not about the calories. You can’t put a price tag on fine art and you can’t count calories on a gourmet German Chocolate Cake. It’s priceless, calorie less. You don’t eat a piece of cake like that and think about calories. You savor it. If you have to think about the calories you can’t afford to eat it.”

“Step away from the glass Calabrese.”


“Back away keeping your hands plainly where I can see them.”

“Come on honey this is ridiculous.”

“Now very slowly hand me your money clip.”

“This is stupid. You can trust me. I won’t get any cake.”

“You’re right not without money you won’t.”

“This sucks.”

“Life a bitch and so am I when it comes to your diet.”

“Just the diet?”

“Don’t push it WOP. Keep moving.”

“I’m an adult you know. A grown man. I have willpower.”

“Yes dear I know. You’re the man of the house. You wear the pants in the family…no matter what size they are.”

“Goodbye Mon Cheri…….”

“You’re speaking French to a cake?”

“I think she winked at me. OUCH!!! Why do you always have to smack me on the back of the head?”


"Hey honey?"


“Can we walk past The Cheesecake Factory?"