Everything is brand new.  The air smells sweet of flowers and eucalyptus.  The early morning dew lies freshly wet upon the green, green grass.  The sun remains high in the sky shining down its radiance.  People smile and greet you as you walk past them, not afraid to look you in the eye.

No, you're not watching an episode of The Waltons on some retro channel like deja view.  I'm talking about my life...Stage Two.

Am I delirious, moon-struck or just plain crazy?  Could be all or none of them.  I just can't get used to it, things being so perfect.  It's like I've stepped into a time machine and it has frozen the minutes and hours.  Needless to say, I'm headily referring to being with Jeffrey. 

I'm enjoying being transformed.  The changes that began while I was with John are still in their infancy stage.  They are mine and I own them, but Jeffrey surely is the catalyst, the driving force behind my desire to let them germinate and bear fruit.

I get up in the mornings and already I want to just dance through the day looking forward to what it may hold for me.  It's because I know that he's at the beginning of it, at the end of it and in all the hours between.  Even when we're physically apart, I carry him with me wherever I go.

Do I sound like a besotted fool, like I'm the first one to ever feel this way?  Naturally; but it is indeed the first time that I've ever been conscious of cherishing another so profoundly.  I don't want to land.  I plan on holding on to and savoring every moment of this soaring flight and making it last forever.  Nothing can bring me down today at this very second, not even my anxiety always nagging in the back of my mind that somehow, in some way; I'll eventually screw this up. 

We're simply together, and whatever fortune comes our way, whether it be good or bad, we'll handle it side by side, hand in hand.

I know I've just written a ton of clichés here, but isn't that why they're so popular?  They emphasize exactly what we're experiencing.  So while the words may be trite and over-used, the emotions are genuine and pure.

That doesn't mean that we both don't have our share of challenges to face.  In spite of our heads being in the clouds, we have our eyes wide open going into this.

Jeffrey is optimistically cautious while I'm more realistically wary.  At first glance, our viewpoints may seem to mean the same thing.  His caution, however, only extends to his sensitivity towards me.  What I mean by that is that he's only taking things slow or pacing himself for my benefit.  He is confident of our success.  He's aware though that I've never been in this deep, so baby steps are required.

My wariness, in contrast, encompasses everything-from whether he'll like my coffee to will I be able to continuously please him in bed to can I be an enhancement instead of an embarrassment to his family and friends, to his career, to his lifestyle and to ultimately, him.  See the difference?

Our goal is one.  We want to make this work.  How we get there, our own course of action, we have to carefully look at and monitor to see if it's compatible with the other's.  Our styles differ greatly.  Jeffrey's resembles Jack Aubrey's philosophy, 'go straight at 'em'.  Mine is more tentative..."Well perhaps we should do this...No wait, let's reconsider...I think I need to dissect this to death."

The only thing to do when this happens is to make concessions, strike a balance and give and take.

We've already started.  When I told Jeffrey I had quit my job impulsively, he was plainly relieved.  So was I, to tell the truth.  I mean that was one less issue that we had to contend with, and it was a biggie.  Nevertheless, I had to be practical here.  I had a room to pay rent on; I had groceries to put on the table and monthly expenses to budget for.

Without thinking it through, and I know he didn't as it was a split second before he reacted, Jeffrey made the very generous and heartfelt offer of me moving in with him.  He said he wanted to take care of me, had his huge empty home and that he was tired of being alone.

Jeffrey's heart is huge, and sometimes the capacity of him to be so loving just staggers me.  It is very tempting to just be sucked in by his sincerity and his tenderness.  And no, I didn't want him to feel alone any longer either.  He deserves to have a second chance at happiness with someone who will treasure him for everything he is.

But I was too fixed in my routine of being independent, making my own decisions and choices without consulting anyone and not being indebted even to a very close intimate.

Living together was a supersonic speeding bullet in my opinion, and since I'm far from being Superwoman, I would not be fast enough to dodge it.

Yes, I was concerned that our delicate peace that we've so newly stitched back whole would be unraveled and the threads would run hither and yon by the inevitable clashes that would materialize. 

I mean this is ME we're talking about here.  I am not the easiest person to take on when my fur gets ruffled.  Jeffrey is very laid back, and he doesn't deserve or need the hassle of having to put up with that on a daily basis.  I was trying to be selfless when I warned him off.  I wasn't kidding when I rhetorically said, "You think Braddock had it tough in the ring?"

I've also lived on my own from the very young age of sixteen.  I'm used to doing things my own way, not having to share and not having to answer to anybody but myself.  If I mess things up, I've only me to blame and only me to involve in finding out where I went wrong.

Jeffrey's love is strong, but I was positive it would be tested if we moved too swiftly and made such a serious step before we took the time to know each other inside and out.  When I declined, I think he expected it.  I told him we had to be pragmatic and also think about his children.  They hadn't been enlightened that their father was heavily involved with someone.

The 'oh yeah' light clicked on in his eyes, so that's when he approached the next logical step-meeting his kids.

Oh boy...another potential mine field.  I'm very mindful that Jeffrey's daughters are the light of his life, and that's the way it should always be.  It would then be intrinsic for him to want them to meet the woman he's spending so much time with.

I'm not quite psyched up for this progressive move either, and it's not because I'm selfish in wanting him all to myself.  The flat out truth is that I'm a coward.  I want to make a good impression on them.  What if I don't?  What happens then?  I've heard horror stories about couples breaking up because their children hated the new interloper.

He could read from the expression on my face that this was shaky territory for me too so discussion was tabled indefinitely.  Sensitivity is Jeffrey's strong suit.

A few days later, I was entrenched into the old job search.  It was discouraging to realize at my age-36 and damn proud of it-that I had no marketable skills or the education to go beyond making minimum wage.  Even at that low pay rate, the competition was brutal for jobs available.  I remember going on an interview for one position where over five hundred people had responded to an ad for a receptionist at a credit bureau.  Five hundred people who would have killed for answering phones all day dealing with irate customers at eight bucks an hour!

I had given Jeffrey my resume to look over to see if it could be edited to make it more promising.  He returned it to me telling me nothing I didn't already know.

"It is rather spotty."

Ya think?  I had so many different types of jobs on it that it looked like a patchwork quilt.  My head was aching from stewing about this.

"Why don't you go back to school?" he suggested innocently enough.

"Can't afford to," I snapped back. 

Before he assumed the role of white knight, I laid it on the line.  "You're not going to pay for my education just like you're not going to pay for a better apartment.  I will not be your kept woman, your charity case or your pet project."

Could I be any more ornery or provoking?  Will I ever learn not to say the first flipping thing that plants itself in my brain?  Take a pill, Karen; and get over yourself.  Shit, it wasn't even that time of month!

He looked slightly peeved at my choice of words, and it's no wonder.  That came out rather harsh and inappropriately so.  I have my moods and I should just tell people flat out to stay away for their own good or enter conversation at your own risk.   I never mean or plan to be disagreeable. 

I have since put measures into place that will ensure that this happens much less often and that I'm much more conciliatory and gentler in my approach.

In my own defense though, let me just add here that I truly did not want to become Jeffrey's responsibility and have him think he had to solve all my problems.  I didn't want to be a noose around this guy's neck. 

Immediately I regretted the way I made it sound but since the words were already out there on the table, it was pointless to retract them.

Jeffrey doesn't retreat from a potentially gnarly situation like some men would.  He sticks it out not afraid to confront if necessary.  I give him credit for that.

"We're going to have to address this situation, my dear," he said in a controlled tone but firmly.  "What's the harm in taking a loan from me?  It will benefit us both."

If it were less of a tense moment, I can almost hear him adding, "Besides I'll give you a much better interest rate than the banks would for services rendered."  He would then waggle his eyebrows.

However, the moment was what it was.  I realized he was right.  I would go nowhere in a hurry if I didn't take some kind of  training that would get me out of the hole I was in.

What can you say to someone who rationally and clearly draws you a picture of the best solution?  

This is where the give and take comes into play.  I could continue to argue with Jeffrey and assert my individualistic autonomy and make things ugly, or I could gracefully search for a happy middle ground where both parties would be satisfied with the outcome.

Seems like a no-brainer, right?  That's only because it was Jeffrey.  With any other man, I would still be fighting, my dukes in the air.

We agreed to a loan.  Once I found another job I would then take courses part-time.  There were so many I was interested in and I was eager to dive in head first.  Narrowing it down from the top three, I went with my first inclination to go into the field of publishing, specifically books.  I also wanted to take some personal development ones.

Later that night when we went on a dinner dance cruise, Jeffrey thanked me for allowing him to help me.  "I know it's not easy for you to lean on anyone."

No, it isn't, but as I told him, "You're the only one I trust enough to do that."

Life has gone on for us.  Every day is yet another breathless ride on a roller-coaster.  We can't seem to refrain from touching each other.  He walks by me, and I just have to pinch, grab, grope or tickle.  We love to kiss, and there never has to be a reason for it.  When I come up for air, I promptly want to re-descend into his depths. 

He should have a warning labeled on him.  "Caution, this drug is very potent.  Take in small doses only or sudden addiction may occur.  Signs of overdose may include rapid heart beat, intense muscle contractions, high fever, increased blood pressure, uneven breathing, soul sapping weakness and throbbing electric sensations.  Do not contact your family physician.  There is no antidote once you've reached this degree of affliction.  YOU ARE SO FUCKED!" 

I feel his eyes starting a fire all over me again and again.  It doesn't matter where we are in his house; we just drop everything when the urge to ravage takes over.

Sometimes I fret when we go to the pub that everyone can see the telltale signs-the bruised lips, the glazed eyes, the unkempt 'just freshly tupped' hair, the disheveled clothing that needs to be re-adjusted or the blouse where the buttons are all done up wrong. 

I've done that one before.  I think it was Paul who noted and so conspicuously drew attention to it by saying something like "Who dressed you tonight?  Tell the doc to give you time to recover your hand/eye co-ordination before venturing out," when I approached the bar.

I'm sure people are far more interested in their own love escapades, but that doesn't keep me from being slightly self-absorbed and alarmed.

Jeffrey's a very private man.  He gets so embarrassed when we girls go on and on and on about sex and brag about our guys' prowess.  He'll do his Houdini vanishing act, talking to the boys, anything to get away from the estrogen brigade.  I can't blame him.  His ears must be burning all the time.  I just can't keep my trap shut.  Poor Carol has already heard more than she ever wants to about Captain Fantastic.

One night though the good doctor turned the tables on me and completely freaked me out.

We had gone after dinner to the pub.  It was fairly crowded with most of the usual suspects there.  It was a fun-filled atmosphere with the younger set teasing each other relentlessly.

Dom and Johnny were on Colin's case about Mandy, saying how he wasn't such a hard-ass anymore at the garage because he was in luuuuuuuuuuurve.  Colin, in retaliation, was trying to rag on Johnny...something about extremely exotic knickers that Erycina was personally modeling for him?  What have I been missing?

Lachlan was at the bar, no doubt, making jokes about joysticks and sharing secret smiles with Jessie.  Hando and Scarlet must have found a sitter for the twins.  They were spending quality time alone.  Both of them looked extremely tired as if the babies were keeping them awake nights unless...!!!!

On again, off again, Andy and Uma were definitely on again after the Bauer incident, and she was gnawing on his ear lobe like a chew toy.  Carol was attacking Zack not so discreetly under the table.  I wasn't fooled by their nonchalant vague smiles.  I knew exactly where her hands and feet were, and the look on Grant's face was priceless as he tried to remain his normal ballsy, gruff self.  Paul was cleverly inventing new and ingenious ways to cop a feel from Jeff.   

The only slightly more contained couples-East and Wildie, Egan and Tulip, John and Clarity, Bud and Marie, Cort and Bou, Terry and Gaia, Jack and Angel and Dino and Heather were intently deep into conversation-you know the kind that needs no words just lots of body language and long, languorous stares.

Taking a behind the scenes look; I wondered what kind of a mark we were leaving on the very family-oriented Jim Braddock and Mae.  Jim always had a big, healthy grin on his face.  I think he enjoyed all of the antics.  They amused both him and his wife.  It was like we were a bunch of wayward children, and they were sitting back watching us all misbehave.

"Have you finished your introspective journey through all our friends' romances?"  Jeffrey's voice interrupted my reflections.

"Do ya mean if I'm through being a voyeur?"

"Well, I wasn't going to say it like that," he laughed.

"I'm just glad that we all seem well-rooted, and don't even try to spin that, Wigand," I interjected before he could make the obvious come-back.

He made a zipping motion with his hand and lips, but his eyes were sparkling.

"We all are grounded right now with each of our respective partners, the ones that are attached, that is."  That made me happy that our little family was so fortunate and blessed.

After getting a screwdriver from the bar we headed off to a table of our own, but this time Jeffrey steered me to one front and centre where all the action was taking place.

I was surprised.  We usually sit in the back where we can talk in containment and where we can be out of the limelight.

He seated himself and as I moved to the chair opposite his, he grabbed me and pulled me down right onto his lap.

I was so shocked that I'm sure my eyes bulged right out of my head like Marty Feldman's.  (Remember Paul wearing that mask and walking around like a hunch back to get back at Uma for going on a rampage?  Yeah, that's the face I pulled.)

Jeffrey is so not into public displays of affection other than the odd hand-holding or an arm on the small of my back.

God!  I must have turned fifty shades of red.

Whispering to me, he said, "If everyone else can do it, why shouldn't we?  I want every person in here to know that I'm with the loveliest woman alive, and we're ecstatically thrilled to be together."

I couldn't help but just beam back at him.

Certain people did take note that the staid and always dignified scientist was acting slightly out of character.

Marie winked at me.  Bud bellowed over, "Wigand, keep your fucking hands to yourself.  This is a respectable place of business, you know?  Do you want me to arrest ya for public indecency?"

Loud snickers resounded around us, especially as Marie was perched on the lawman's own lap.

Zack, when Jeffrey just snorted and drew me in even closer on his knee, hollered, "Get a room you two or go up on the roof at least.  Shit!  You're making the rest of us look bad."

It was all good-natured ribbing.  We were being so tame compared to some of the others'--who shall remain nameless (Hello!  Steve and Cassie)-blatant and passionate manhandling.

I was elated that Jeffrey was being included as just another of the guys and being playfully razzed.

Should I give them something to really talk about?  I went with the flow as I turned and wrapped my legs around his waist.  I entertained the crowd with a rather intense tonsil hockey demonstration.  I'm not one for being an exhibitionist; but hey, it was a crazy night.  Jeffrey, thankfully, was a good sport and followed my lead and didn't leave me twisting in the wind.

Both of us were truly flustered after the hoots, wolf whistles, and "you go, girl" comments.  We behaved ourselves after that.  It was a great, hilarious night.

There have been a few minor skirmishes in our becoming re-acquainted but these were more comical than anything else.

There was the time when we fought over the TV remote.  What is it with boys that they have to be so damn possessive over that little thingy?  What really drives me bonkers is that they constantly have to flick from channel to channel.  It's like a cardinal sin to have it remain on the same station for two whole minutes.  They're trigger happy!

He predictably wanted to watch sports.  Puleeease!  I was dying to see the next gross-out, bug-eating, stomach churning episode of Fear Factor.

"I'll arm wrestle you for it," he challenged.

"How stupid do you think I am?" I retorted wryly.  Yeah, like I can really see me winning that one.  

"Fine," I conceded as his hand remained glued to the little box.  "Watch whatever, I'll just read my book."

So I brought my book out of my purse and started to quietly read it.

What is it about boys that they also hate to be ignored and find that we're quite self-sufficient at entertaining ourselves without their help when they're in the same vicinity?

"You're pouting," he accused.

Not looking up from the page I was on, I countered, "Am not."

"Are too."

"Jeffrey, I do not pout.  Do you mind?  I'm at a good part here."

Wrong thing to say.

"What do you call that thing then that you do with your lower lip?"  He pointed to my mouth and tried to imitate by grossly exaggerating the gesture.

Are you bored, Jeffrey?

I snapped the book shut on his finger.

The TV was suddenly abandoned as we grappled with each other.

"Did I neglect to tell you that I'm a former black belt in judo?" (It's the truth by the way; he is.  Watch his movie again and you'll see he sparred with the Olympic team.) Jeffrey smiled down at me as I lay flat on my back totally immobilized.

"Must have slipped your mind," I snarled through bared teeth trying to nip at his neck.

I got back at him by pulling the oldest trick in the book.  "Ow!  You're hurting me," I moaned pathetically screwing up my face.  

Why are men so bloody gullible?  They really must think we're total weaklings.

He released me instantly as I jumped up quickly and all over him in a vengeance.  He ended up crying out, "Uncle!"

Another time we were out driving trying to find the spectacular Royal Botanical Gardens in Hamilton.  We got lost or more like he did since he was driving.  He refused to stop at a gas station to ask for guidance.

"Real men don't ask for directions," he spouted to me.

At a washroom break, I went to the adjacent convenience store and found out the exact route to get there.  I handed him the piece of paper saying, "That is why real men roam aimlessly around for an hour like dickheads with their thumb up their asses while real women are already there enjoying their destination.  Read it and weep, pardner!"

"Are you calling me a dickhead?"

"If the weenie fits."

A slightly graver incident occurred when Jeffrey forgot the rules about making age-related comments.  Big time mistake!

He knew darn well that I didn't like him making gags about his age.  The odd remark now and then I can let slide and stomach.   I mean, I've even jokingly referred to him as an "old man".

For those of you yelling out, 'Get a sense of humor,' I'd like to see you try and deal with it when he kept at it over the course of a whole night.

I don't know what got it started but he continuously repeated that his entire body was falling apart.  

His hearing was failing... "Honey, can you turn the radio up?  I think it's time for a hearing aid."  

His reflexes were slow... "Christ, I should have been able to catch that (I had lobbed him a beer tin).  In my younger days, a beer would never have touched the ground." 

He was getting senile..."Come again?  I didn't quite get that.  I'm not as sharp as I used to be.  The old grey matter is fossilizing."  

Finally, his eyesight was poor..."I need a new prescription.  Nah, probably wouldn't help at this stage of the game.  I need a new pair of eyes."

I had been pretty patient in letting him babble on up to this point.  Totally fed up now, I said to him, "Let me see your glasses."

He gave me an odd look but handed them over.

I briefly inspected them, wiped off a few flecks of dust, blew on them then put them down on the floor and stamped on them hard with the heel of my shoe breaking them.

"Oops," I shallowly remarked, "I guess you'll have to go with the new pair of eyeballs."

Jeffrey just looked at me like I had taken leave of my senses.  Then he gazed in dismay at the mangled piece of eyewear.

"Do you have any idea how much those things cost?  The frames alone...  Jesus Christ!  I can't believe you just did that!" his voice rose with every word uttered.

"The frames alone could set me back three month's pay," I acknowledged, my voice remaining calm and even.  "Yeah, so they're expensive.  I kind of think that's the point of why I did it."  It wouldn't have been a hardship or a lesson to him if they weren't.

He continued to look at me like I was some strange alien who had taken over Karen's body.  

"If the glasses don't bloody well work, then why do you need them?  Get thee to the nearest organ donation centre and take care of all your needs-a new pair of eyes and ears and oh, definitely a brain.  Your whole corpse is corroding right before me.  But don't forget to ask for a YOUNG male donor, preferably someone in their 20's or 30's."

Of course, then he got why I was ticked.  He still sputtered on about the cost, the hassle of getting the right replacement and how could I be so cold-hearted.

"Oh cry me a river, Jeffrey," I said unsympathetically.  "Play your violin to someone who actually gives a shit."

He stalked out of the room.

Ten minutes later he reappeared polishing off another pair of brand new spectacles that I obviously didn't know he had.  The son of a bitch!

"You know you really are a pain in the ass sometimes," he opened up the dialogue.

"Little slow on the uptake there, are you, Jeffrey?  It usually takes people a week to come to that conclusion."  I wasn't a bit perturbed by his observation.  "Maybe you are mentally deteriorating."

Then we both started laughing at the same time.

However, ever since then, he's been mighty careful about where he leaves his glasses or about me getting anywhere near them.  After all he can only have so many spare pairs.

He's also stopped the age wisecracks which was my objective all along.

In between the fireworks and the sparks that fly when we get down, I find myself deep in thought, laboring for the exact way to adequately express how much he means to me.  I know that he knows how I feel, but he has yet to hear me say the words.

The night we made up where he was able to be so free with those three little ones, I was ashamed that I couldn't say them back.  I had to wait until he had fallen asleep to whisper them out loud, testing them tentatively in the air.  There is a reason for that and it has nothing to do with Jeffrey.

About eight years ago, I was with a man and I thought we were deeply committed to each other.  I was about to let him know that via those three same words.  The night before that happened I discovered he had been cheating on me.  His "other girlfriend" had called to advise me of the situation and fill me in on details that I was devastated to learn.

I did a retrospective of our relationship with a fine tooth and comb.  Certain signals and clues that I had been blissfully heedless of now became glaringly pronounced.

I didn't even give him a chance to explain or a reason why he was now persona non grata with me forever.  I slammed the door in his face.

There was no way in hell that I would ever stand for infidelity.  I grew up with it.  My father, the tomcat, had had so many affairs that my mother turned a blind eye to.  I was not going to be my mother's daughter in this regard.

This is why I was having problems communicating to Jeffrey.  In no way did I compare him to that same sorry, unfaithful bastard.  The words just became stuck in my throat as I had never said them to anyone, never felt the urge to until that cretin came along and stole my ability to let them fly.

Jeffrey needed to hear them.  He had more than earned the right to.  Every person in a serious relationship needs to hear them verbally expressed from time to time whether you're a woman or a man.

I didn't for one minute longer wish to let them pass unsaid.  They had to be relayed though in a special way that I was comfortable with and that he merited.  I had delayed long enough.

 

 

Jeffrey

Now that we've finally re-connected and all our crossed wires have been bent back into shape, I see no reason why we shouldn't start planning our future.  We're in love plain and simple.  Why not commit ourselves wholeheartedly?  People in love do that.

I want to share everything with that red-headed marvel.  I'm at that point in my life where I don't want to take a single second for granted.  I'm not getting any younger, and even though she would probably deck me for saying that, it's the cold hard truth.

The only thing standing in our way is Karen herself.

I can understand her fears.  I know things need to go slow for her.  I realize her childhood and being on her own for so long has affected her greatly.  I wish I could change that.  I wish I could re-write her past.  I obviously can't.

She's just starting to open up and blossoming like a flower's bud before it suddenly bursts into full bloom.  It's some sight to see, let me tell you.  The more self-assured she becomes, the more relaxed and calmer she gets.  She becomes more grounded and not so flighty.

I do everything in my power to help her fight her insecurities.  They're pretty deeply ingrained.  Every now and then I catch her staring at me like she just can't believe that she's the one who makes me happy.  But she does.

It's all in the little things-the way she smiles at me shyly the first thing in the morning when she stays over, the way she thrusts the bedroom curtains open and lifts up the window to breathe in the crisp fresh air as if she draws strength from the newness of the day, the way she giggles when she watches me shave perched on the bathroom counter and I flick the foam onto her face.

There are so many things I notice and adore about her, but I have to keep most of these to myself or she would grow self-conscious.

When she quit her job, inside I rejoiced.  It was a pretty big obstacle to continuously overlook.  But I gave her the time to decide when to end it.  I'm not the sort of man who is controlling or a dictator.  I would never force her to do anything.

Yes, it was a thorn in my side but until she willingly let go of that dark security blanket, there was nothing I could do.  She had to see for herself how destructive it was not only to her self-image but to how she perceived the world around her.

I know what I'm talking about here.  For years I worked for a tobacco firm watching the powers that be manipulate dangerous chemicals to make them more addictive to the unknowing public.  I tolerated it for so long because I made good money.  I had a young family to support and a wife who had expensive tastes and clearly enjoyed the perks that went along with a high profile position.

But going through the doors of Brown & Williamson and putting in fourteen hours every day literally sucked the very life out of me.  Getting canned--while being humiliating especially when I knew the real reason behind it, and believe you me, it wasn't for poor communication skills-was the best thing that ever happened.

That must sound kind of strange considering all that I went through and put my family through, but it's the truth.  It was only when I was rid of that blood sucking leech that I was optimistic about being me again.  I remember once saying to Liane, "Can you imagine me coming home from some job and feeling good at the end of the day?"

Lessons like these though have to be learned on your own and in your own time.  Now Karen was free to explore her options.

I think after the exhilarating rush of being freed, she came down to earth fairly quickly.  Money was now even more of an urgent and critical problem.

It's part of my nature to want to solve problems even if they're not mine and certainly if they belong to someone I care about.  Maybe I should have held back and not been so eager to step in with a solution.  I meant what I said to her.  I have this big, vacant house.  I would love to have it filled with laughter and joy.

The idea originally behind me buying a large home was to have my kids in surroundings that they were accustomed to.  When I was a corporate VP and Head of Research and Development at B&W, I made a $300,000 yearly salary, not exactly chump change. 

It was quite a come down for all of us having to move into much humbler accommodations after I got fired.  My salary as a high school teacher was a tenth of what I formerly made at $30,000.

Liane had a wealthy family background to fall back on after our split so where she lives now with the kids is pretty impressive.  I didn't want them to have to slum it at my place.

However, I was eventually able to slowly get back on track by doing a sideline of research in biochemistry.  I was also quite pleasantly surprised to find myself in demand for speaking engagements.  I address local and national health organizations, and I do some government lobbying for reforms related to tobacco legislation.

My pride and joy is a non-profit organization that I founded called "Smoke-Free Kids".  The tobacco companies target underage kids because they know if they hook 'em young, they hook them for life.  So we provide pre-teens and teens enabling knowledge to make healthy, responsible choices, in particular where it relates to smoking addiction.

Anyways, this is a long and rambling way of saying that my sizable piece of property was far too enormous for just me and when the girls stayed over.

As soon as the offer left my mouth, I predicted Karen would be uncomfortable.  She would feel like she's a burden; she would feel dependent and that we were moving too fast.  Do I know my lady or what?

It delighted me when she said she was just saying no for now but that somewhere down the road she would reconsider.  I was satisfied with that.

She made a good point though that I hadn't even contemplated.  What would my daughters think?  I'm slightly disconcerted to admit that my concern for Karen drove them temporarily right out of my mind at that particular moment.  That just doesn't happen.

Deborah and Barbara come first in my life.  They always will.  I don't need to tell Karen that.  She knows and respects it.  They've been through a lot of changes in their young lives.  Divorce is hell on everyone in a family.  I was fortunate that I had always had a very loving and good relationship with my two little girls.

Yes, Liane and I had parted on less then amicable terms, but she appreciated the fact that the children needed both a mother and father.  I was not cut out of their lives, and I would have refused to let that happen in any case.  So we consulted on all the major issues.  I had set up a trust fund for each of them for their education and also to support whatever endeavors they wished to pursue when they came of age.  I saw them twice a week and had them over every other weekend.

They would need to be told about Karen in a way they could understand, basically that I was seeing someone very special who would never take their mother's place or theirs in my heart.  I thought they could handle it.  They've got friends in their classes who unfortunately also are products of broken families.  Even though they're still quite young, nine and six, they would be able to adjust.

Karen, however, would probably take longer than they would to get used to the idea of meeting.  Kids are resilient; they bounce back.  They're off in their own little world most of the time.  It's adults who obsess and worry and get ulcers over things they imagine will happen.  She has a very fertile imagination.  So, no, I wasn't too surprised that she vetoed my invitation to casually introduce them to her one night when I had them over.  She's pretty skittish and needs time to just get used to me alone.

A small victory occurred when she agreed to accept a loan from me to fund her going back to school.  I say small for me but it was a huge deal for her.

At first, she jumped down my throat which she has a tendency to do with everyone whenever she feels threatened in some way, and she was rather dismissive.  It's not the most pleasant thing to have to abide.  That temper of hers just runs amok sometimes.  I don't always let her get away with it.  I pick and choose my battles wisely.

That's probably the biggest adjustment I'll have to make in my life.  I've had my share of spirited women or firebrands in the past but that was way back in my 20's and 30's.  Who wants that kind of nonsense at my age?  It's a younger man's game. 

You can't help who you fall in love with though.  Besides, the majority of the time it's pretty harmless and I just let her vent; it either amuses me or turns me on. 

Karen's very extreme with her emotions even when she's up.  She can be effervescent and enthusiastic about the smallest things.  An ice cream truck will drive down the street doing its little jingle and she'll race to the door, a big goofy grin on her face, the first one out there waving her money beating out all the little munchkins.  Then she'll break her ice cream bar in two and share it with the little old lady--Mrs. Rochester--who lives on the corner and sits on her porch all day in the hot sun knitting God knows what.

When she uses her passionate nature to defend me like the time when I was feeling down on myself after the 4th of July outing with the kids, she just amazes.  She is fiercely protective and loyal to those she's devoted to and as always tells it like it is.  She shoots from the hip.  How can I lose with her so steadfastly in my corner?

I can tell that it's going to be a lively spin on the Ferris Wheel.  You just never know what's going to go down.  I like that unpredictability.  I never thought I would.  My marriage with Liane was very traditional whereby I was the bread earner and she was the homemaker.  I think we both got stuck in a rut for so long that after awhile there were no more bolts from the blue and limited bouts of excitement and zeal in our sex life.

Did I love her when we were together?  Yes, I did; but in the later years, it was more like the love shared between good friends and not what should be between a husband and a wife.

Getting back to the real lightening rod in my life, Karen tops the list at being the most frustrating and infuriating woman I've ever known, and it's only been five months.  However, she also maxes out as the one who turns my crank literally and figuratively.

The trick is knowing how to handle her.  Please do not tell her I said that.  Women hate to think they're being handled.

One time she started in on something and I just cheered her on, "Go, Rosie, go!"

She gave me a blank, WTF, look.  "Rosie?"

It stopped her in her tracks.

So I told her that every time she went into spitfire mode, I thought of her as my fiery rose.  It's kind of been my secret pet name for her all along.  I christened her that the first night we met after our interlude in the Japanese restaurant.  It was reinforced by her competitive, aggressive behavior in the hockey game.

Giving me a disarming little grin, she repeats the name.  "Rosie?  I kind of like it.  I've never had a nickname before.  My name was always too short."

See how I neatly got out of that one?  Learn from me, boys.  Keep them distracted.

Other times she just makes me laugh when she gets rolling.  She'll get all huffy and insulted.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"With you, Honey," I reassure her, "Not at you."

"Why do people always say that?  Does this look like a chuckle on my face?  I am not laughing."

Karen's good for me in that she takes me for who I am.  Does she try to change me?  What woman doesn't try to mold her man in some way, shape or form?

"I want you to be real with me, Jeffrey, and not worry that I'm going to jump ship and bail because you're not perfect.  Perfect people bore me to tears.  You don't always have to be The Man-the one full of integrity, dignified at all costs, a gentleman...the mature one in our relationship.  Fuck maturity, Jeffrey, it's over-rated."

How can you not love her when she says things like that?  She gets under my skin like no one ever has.

One time she came back from a doctor's appointment and started talking in full detail about some female medical procedure.  I think it was her pap smear.  "Karen!" I cried out trying to close off my ears and images.  "Information overload!  We do not need to share the fine print if you know what I mean."

She goes all wide-eyed and brightly intones, "Jeffrey, I thought you wanted us to be completely open with each other.  I was just communicating the high point of my day." 

Okay, so she's winding me up here which happens to be a favorite hobby of hers.  That's just fine and dandy because she knows I'll get her back when she least expects it.

Our sex life is fabulous, and that has always been a constant.  We just fit together so well, like a jigsaw puzzle.  She's creative, lusty and gives of herself fully.

There are times when I just can't keep my hands off her.  She feels the same way.  I guess we act like a couple of randy kids sowing their oats.  I'm fairly reserved and old-fashioned so those occasions usually happen when we're alone and in a very secluded location.

On the other hand, I have been known to be spontaneous when the opportunity arises.  I shocked the hell out of her when we were at the pub one night when I pulled her down on my lap in front of everyone present.

It may not seem like a big deal in this day and age where everything is done in flagrante but for me it was.  I was demonstrating and declaring my love for her, and I wanted to do it where all our friends would notice.

Karen was tickled pink and royally embarrassed at the same time.  Hey, she quickly recovered and took it one step further by straddling me and planting a five star stunner.

Well, like she would say, "Fuck dignity and maturity!"

Just yesterday night another climax point was reached.  She came into the living room and put a CD on the stereo.  The first song was instrumental.  She took my hand and asked me to dance.

I remember the dress she wore because it's so unusual to see her in anything but jeans and a blouse.  It was a deep dark green and the sun coming through the window reflected off the gorgeous red in her hair like a torch.  It was fairly demure.  Karen doesn't like tight-fitting garments and that could be because she was compelled to wear so many at her work.

The perfume she wore had a strong floral scent, quite unlike her everyday one.  She seemed nervous and trembled when I took her in my arms. 

The song ended but we continued to sway slowly, barely moving.  The next one began and she started singing softly to herself.  She loves to sing, is pretty good at it and often I find her humming or singing along to the radio.  She takes great pleasure in music.

At some point the song repeated and when it did, she took her head off my shoulder and looked into my eyes.  This time I could make out the words, and she was singing them directly to me.

 

 

"You're the one...You're the one I love," she murmured at song's end.

Indeed that says it all for both of us.

 

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