Ancient History #4: "Nice Shoes"

It was the second-most expensive relationship I ever had.

When Mr Wonderful and I broke up, I started drinking. Quite a lot, actually. I had decided to go out and catch up on all the partying that I had missed while we were together. I also had a stretch where I did all the things that I couldn't before, the stuff I couldn't or wouldn't do when he was around.

I went out and bought CD's by bands he hated. I went waterskiing. I bought crazy clothing that he would disapprove of. I went to art galleries.

And I decided to have a one-night stand.

With a stranger. A hot stranger.


On the fateful Friday night, I didn't even dress up, though I wore makeup and heels with my jeans. I swore I was going to pick up the hottest guy in the bar.

I didn't have anyone picked out...just this idea that I was going to do something crazy. I was really shy. This was a challenge.

When I got to the bar, there wasn't much going on. I sipped my drink, not wanting to get too drunk; part of the challenge was to be at least half-assed sober when I did it. I looked around, but didn't see anyone I just had to have.

Then he walked in. Tall, well over six feet. Broad shoulders. Nice ass. Dark hair and smouldering eyes. Perfect.

I had seen him before, several months prior, when he had tried to pick up my sister by putting a cigarette out in her shirttails. He was a magician, and it was a cool trick. These things always happen to my sister - she's the pretty one. Of course, she had told him to fuck off, and I had never seen him since.

Until that night.

I ordered a second drink, screwing up my courage and plotting my attack. I watched him like a hawk (or a good stalker-in-training); he was with a couple of friends, and they didn't seem to be drinking much. They all sat in a group, except when they were dancing. They didn't always dance with partners, but would spread out on the dance floor and pull crazy moves. Eventually, one friend went to the bathroom, and the Magician and the remaining friend went up to dance. On opposite sides of the floor. Without partners.

I saw my opportunity.

Drink in hand, I sauntered across the dance floor, trying to look seductive. I got in close to him, and swayed in time with him and the music. On my tiptoes, I leaned in close, so my lips were just brushing his ear, and said:

"Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?"

His jaw dropped. He stopped dancing. He had that wide-eyed look of a deer just before it gets hit by an 18-wheeler.

His friend came over to ask if he was okay.

The Magician grinned and assured his friend that things were alright. He looked at me, and asked me to repeat myself.

"You heard me" I said.

I don't remember much of the rest of the night, except the end. We were parked in a field, making out in his car, and I realized I didn't have it in me to sleep with a total stranger. I told him so. He just kind of shrugged, and kissed me some more. Later, when he dropped me off, he gave me his number, written on the back of a cigarette package. He was a good sport. I called him the next day.

We spent the next six months taking random road trips, skinnydipping in the river, and staying up way past our bedtimes discussing Freud and philosophy. Oh, yeah, and the sex was great, once we got around to it. He told all his friends how we had met. Hell, he even told his father. It was a great time.

Until he lost his job, borrowed $2,000 to move closer to me, and rode off into the sunset, never to be seen again...

I'd never admit it out loud, but the fun was worth it.

And you know...he did have nice shoes.