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And without further ado, here's this week's Mr. Linky.

Forbidden...

Forbidden Love Lust

There I was, stationed in another country... but, this time, no one was shooting at me, which was a plus.

I had seen her (let's just call her Susie, OK?) around the base over the past year, a good looking woman who was a nurse in the base hospital. I never paid much attention to her, though. Not because I wasn't interested, and not because I was seeing someone else. I hadn't paid much attention because paying said attention would have been against the rules.

You see, Susie was an officer... a Captain. I was a Corporal.

Let me explain... in the armed forces, relationships between officers and enlisted personnel aren't just frowned upon, they are forbidden. Sure, there are good reasons for this, which doesn't mean that they don't happen.

Anyway, Susie and I never did more than say hello or nod & smile at each other for many months until one summer night when the Officers club was closed for renovation and the Officers had been granted the use of our club. Susie was in the club this particular Friday night, drinking with some of her enlisted medics, when I happened to walk into the place for a wee bit of refreshment.

I stepped up to the bar, and ordered a tonic water with lime (I'm not a teetotaller, but I just wasn't drinking any booze that night), and surveyed the scene... and noticed Susie staring at me from across the room. We made eyes at each other (discreetly) for w while, and when the opportunity arose, I got the chance to have a chat with her.

To make a long story short, we discussed our long term mutual admiration and laughed about what to do about it. We concluded that if we were discreet, we might be able to... talk about it when there weren't so many people around. So we made plans. I was going to go to her place a few nights later, and she was going to make dinner... since we couldn't go out anywhere together.

On the appointed evening, at the appointed time, I went to Susie's apartment, and we ate, and laughed and talked and had a great time... then, it happened.

Susie excused herself, and went into another room. I assumed she was going to the bathroom, but when she returned, she was in a nightgown!

Whoa, dude!

She sat down on the couch (I was in a chair across the table)

***NOTE*** This is the part of the story where you might think I was about to divulge to much information about what follows, but you don't have to worry. You see, at the time of this incident, I was only twenty, and not really much of a man of the world.

So... Susie comes back into the room and sits down, while I was thinking "Oh no! I have over-stayed my welcome! I need to make a quick exit!" I thought that she was trying to tell me that she needed to go to bed... um, to go to SLEEP

So I made some quick excuses, and beat a hasty retreat, feeling all the while that I had made an a$$ out of myself.

I was right. I had made an a$$ out of myself... but not for the reason that I thought.

When I saw Susie a couple of days later, we had a moment to talk and she asked me what she had done wrong. I was busy apologizing for staying too long, and for not being considerate about her time.

We planned to meet again, and we did... but nothing came of it, since we knew that we couldn't ever go anywhere together, and it wouldn't be good for her career if it were to ever get out.

So, what might have been an interesting um... friendship, turned into another year of nodding and smiling (and saluting) without ever saying anything other than "good afternoon, ma'am" followed by "carry on, Corporal". She returned to the states after that year, and that was that.

So there is my story of potential conquest, gone wrong. I have more than one of those, so stay tuned.

...And Then There Was Meghan

After I separated from my first wife, and before I met the woman I would later marry, I dated some, but not much, because not terribly long after the separation/divorce, I met Meghan.

I met Meghan at the same government agency I was later to meet my wife, but the stories don't intersect... I didn't have the time, inclination, or money to play the field like that.

Meghan was a sweet girl, about 4 years younger than me... she was about 5' 4" and explosively curvaceous. A real looker.
We met, chatted a few times, and when I would see her, she would smile at me... and blush. Not being a particularly stupid man, I knew there was interest... which I returned.

We I started flirting with her to beat the band, and it wasn't long after that we started dating. We dated exclusively, and spent a lot of time together as new couples tend to do, and were having a great time... but there were some problems.

As much as I thought that I had completely worked through mu divorce, I hadn't. There were custody/visitation issues that regularly turned into battles. There was that fact that child support, which I never missed paying, even before it was court ordered, was keeping me in Jesuit-like poverty. To say that I had some hostility to get through would have been more than accurate.

Meghan had her own issues to deal with as well... she was never sure about how I felt about her, even though I regularly told her of my love. Worse, she was very unsure of herself, physically. The poor girl's self esteem was wrapped up in the fact that her mother had been a dancer in her youth, and still had a dancer's figure, as did two of her three sisters. Despite my assurances of her beauty (and I kid you not, she was a head-turner), she never quite believed it about herself, so she needed constant reassurance.

Meghan and I were together for nearly three years, and while we were pretty good together, the other stuff got in the way. It led to unhappiness, because I couldn't make her feel better about herself, no matter how I tried... and she couldn't help me get over my issues with my ex-wife. Suffice it to say, we were doomed..

Eventually, we broke up. It was really sad because we loved each other... we kept in touch from a great distance. I healed, she did , too. I got married, and so did she. I saw her downtown, once, about three years after I got married... she was beautiful. I was pleased for her when she had gotten her professional credentials as an interior designer. I was sorry for her when she divorced. I was pleased for her when I heard about her new job at the Pentagon, where she was working at redesigning one of the wings of the building. I was sick with grief on 9/11, when that damned airplane crashed into the building... the wing she was working in. I was overjoyed when I found out, two months later, that she had quit that job scant weeks before the attack. Again, I was happy for her when she met, and later married, a nice man who is making her very happy.

I hear from Meghan about once a year.

It makes me smile.

***NOTE*** It makes me smile because I am happy for her... she is a good person who would never hurt a soul. I have no romantic designs, so tsk tsk if you were thinking that.

His Mother Was Mad!

Hey, all! It's Brillig. I want to warmly welcome a NEW Anonymous Soapiness poster. I hope you will give her all a warm welcome! If any of you have anonymous posts that you'd like to submit, just leave a comment here or at mine or Kate's blogs, and we'll hook you up. :-D
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His Mother Was Mad


I was talking to my father and mentioned I had run
into Jacob.

Jacob was a year older than me in high school. He
hung out with mutual friends of mine. He was tall and
thin. He was sweetly goofy. He went off to an
in-state college. A year later I attended college in
another state then didn't really return for several
years. I lost touch with those friends and didn't
know what had become of him.

About 5 or 6 years ago a tall, handsome man came up to
me. It was the beginning of the work day and when he
said my name, I recognized the voice immediately.
Jacob was living in the same town as me, married to a
school teacher. They had several children. While he
was clearly a man, and not a teenager, his sweet
goofiness was still there.

For several years our early morning routine meant we
crossed paths and we would talk about people from high
school, our kids' exploits, work, my pregnancy and his
wife's a year later. Then his hours changed and we
stopped seeing each other.

I told my dad that I ran into Jacob and his kids over
the holidays. It was the first time I had seen his
since the spring.

"His mother was so pissed when you turned him down for
a date" was my father's reply.

"Whaaaaaaaa?" was my inarticulate response.

I don't think I had ever met Jacob's mother. I
wouldn't know her if she came up to me. I knew that
she didn't run in the same circles as my parents. It
was simply beyond comprehension that my father would
have a conversation with Jacob's mother.

"She called me after Jacob had called to ask you out"
he explained. "You just broke his heart and she
called me to complain."

My father had never, ever told me this.

Worse. I don't remember the phone call from Jacob
asking me out. It wasn't like I was getting these
calls with any frequency. In fact almost never. I
would think this type of call would be memorable to an
infrequent high school dater like me.

So after all these year, does Jacob remember calling
me?

And does he know his mother called my father?

How We Met

Some of you are old enough to remember the first gulf war (well, technically, the second Gulf War, since the first was between Iran and Iraq, but you know what I mean).

Those of you that remember it, might also remember that for some time after the liberation of Kuwait, there was a huge push by the United States and other nations to find a lasting peace in the middle east between the various Arab states and Israel.

The large-scale peace talks that took place in Washington, DC, took place at the United States Department of State, where I was then employed as a security supervisor. I was the commander of the unit that did security for special events where senior diplomats and politicians would be on site. As you can imagine, the ministerial meetings that took place had VIP's in abundance... many of whom would speak to the press which were always corralled by the main entrance to the building.

The State Department press office, not wanting to ever get caught unawares, always kept a public affairs officer with the press in order to record any comments made y an arriving or departing dignitary. This is where our story begins.

One of my people, who was frequently posted in the front of the building, was... shall we say, less than stellar in the performance of his duties, needed frequent monitoring to make sure that he he was doing his job, instead of spending all of his time chatting up the pretty girls. Being his direct supervisor, that responsibility fell to me. On more than one occasion, I had to tell him to stop bothering the Press officer that was outside with the Press pool, since she seemed to be spending her down time quietly reading..

After having to talk to him a third time, I apologized to the press officer, and attractive woman, wearing a blue floral print dress. She smiled and said not to worry about it, as he wasn't being disrespectful or anything.

Well I would see this Press officer from time to time, in the lobby of the building and make small talk, with her, and after a while, instead of chatting whenever I would see her, I started looking for her intentionally.

When the Peace Talks were coming to a close, I asked her what she usually did with herself when she wasn't working, and she told me that she didn't usually do much, so I sad, oh-so-smoothly, that since I didn't do much either, maybe we could not do much together sometime. Yes, I know, it was kinda lame, and although she had to stifle a laugh, it worked.

We arranged to have our first date, the night before Thanksgiving, 1992.

She lived in Rosslyn (Va), and I lived on Captiol Hill, so I took the metro (Washington's subway) and she met me there... we walked to her apartment to kill some time before going to the movies (we were going to see Bram Stoker's Dracula), and it was pretty much over.

Her apartment walls were lined with bookshelves!

We shared a bottle of wine, then a second, while we talked about books.

We missed the first showing of the movie, and the second showing. We had a grand old time... by the time I made the move to leave, the metro had stopped running. Rather than send me off in a cab, this fine soul gave me a ride home... but not before we had our first kiss, standing next to her car.

I was done in. Right there, right then.

When she dropped me at my apartment, I went in and immediately called her at home and left a message on her machine... apparently, it was very romantic.

I got very little sleep that night.

You know that semi-sick to your stomach feeling you get with new love? I had that all day at work, and despite the fact that I was trying to be the gruff boss, one of my guys said: "Geez Lieutenant, what's up with you?, you've been grinning all morning, and I don't think that I have ever seen you smile"

Well... there isn't much else to say, other than that I married that nice lady in 1994. I knew that I would, from the first time I kissed her.

As I write this, she is suffering with a bit of a cold and is snoring napping away just down the hall... we are both starting to get gray now, but I still love her as much as I did on our first date.