lightly stroked—long into the night. I glanced over at his strong profile, still shocked at how this whole adventure seemed to be working out so well. I took the quiet time to reflect on how I got from there to here, conventional and conservative to unconventional and running with the wild mustangs.
It all began quite innocently: the latest blind date gone wrong and my determination not to be the sad sister everyone was trying to “hook up”…for the umpteenth time. For some reason, once I’d reached a certain level of success, I was unable to find suitable counterparts to date. It was like I had a sign on my forehead: SHE’S TOO RICH AND INDEPENDENT FOR YOU, MAN! And those not reading it and having the courage to ask me out should have. I tell you, if another man invited me to dinner and we pulled up to another buffet—Chinese, Japanese, Ryan’s or its counterparts—I would have screamed.
And my God! What’s up with the men with poor manners: letting me help myself into cars, walking in front of me, letting me open my own doors, and the casual ease with which they asked me for sex? Like sex was as meaningless as grabbing a glass of water. Not me. I wanted sex to be the mind-numbing, commitment-driven act I always felt it was intended to be between partners.
So when I spotted this small ad in a women’s magazine, it piqued my curiosity. It said simply, WANT THE MAN IN YOUR DREAMS? CONTACT US. 150-555-4398. I dialed the number, thinking it was probably a gag. But it was no gag. The representative was courteous and quite knowledgeable about the entire process. I gleaned as much information as possible, then visited their Web site.
Their site provided much more information. Each potential husband spoke at least three languages, was in perfect health, and had received “advanced training” in husbandship. I wasn’t sure what the husbandship training included, but I figured it was a class in understanding a wife and his marital obligations and expectations better.
I viewed the photos of available men, read their profiles and biographies, then narrowed my search down to three prospects, kind of like the Match.com stuff I see on television, only with me completely in control of the selections.
I’d spoken at length to each contender before settling on Dubois. There was something in his voice that scratched at my soul, made me want to know him much better. Further conversations cemented this feeling and so, after much meditation, I filled out the contract and selected Dubois as my mate. I was hoping and praying I’d made the correct choice.
“Second thoughts?”
Dubois’s question startled me because of the similar thoughts I was having about him. “Not really. You?”
“Definitely not.” He smiled before continuing. “Honestly, I’d heard horror stories about things that could go wrong.”
“Like what?”
“A person looking like Halle Berry on their photo actually looked more like a Harold Berry in person.”
I had to laugh at the visual that popped in my mind. “That definitely could be a problem.”
“You are telling me. How does one make love to a man-looking woman?”
“The same way someone makes love to a woman-looking man?” We both laughed. “Well, rest assured, someone probably is doing it right now.”
“Perhaps. I imagine there is someone for everyone…I just don’t think…let’s just say, she would have gotten a refund with me on sight. I’d be back on the Bravado right now, thankful I got away alive.”
I loved how “politically correct” he was. “Gotcha.”
“So, your job…do you enjoy what you do?”
I was an anthropologist at the university and loved what I did. Yes, I visited exotic places for weeks on end, but it was the student interaction, the passage of my knowledge to the un-knowledgeable that drove my engine. “I sure do. There is nothing more rewarding than sharing knowledge.”
“Really? Explain, please.”
I broke it down. “When students come into my classroom, they are, for the most part, a blank slate that I have the wonderful job of filling in with my words, their assignments, and taking them to the field. And if I do a good job, their slate becomes crowded with knowledge, historical facts that still apply to our lives today, and thus, allows them to place themselves in context to the world as it evolved.”
“You help them find themselves by showing them how similar and dissimilar they are to those who have come before.”
“Correct!” It was so refreshing to find someone actually understanding my ideologies on the first conversation. “The meek become proud, the boastful become humble, because the realization finally dawns that there truly is nothing new under the sun. It’s just new to them.”
Dubois rubbed his hands together like a kid. “You’ve got me excited, that is for sure!”
“Oh, keep hanging with me. I’ve got a lot more excitement to come out.” We broke into laughter.
We only stopped once to stretch our legs, grab some gas and food. I wasn’t surprised to see Dubois surrounded by three animated women when I exited the bathroom. He was a sight to behold. When I advanced, the conversation I heard seemed innocent…but I knew women and went on guard anyway. But when he took my arm and introduced me to the women as his wife—earning pointed looks all around—I relaxed and smiled. They might not have been innocent in their motives, but Dubois surely was.
I pulled into the driveway just after lunch. My home was an old antebellum house I’d rescued from the foreclosure block and restored in a mixture of old charm and modern amenities. It was huge by today’s standards, but I loved it and hoped Dubois would also.
His eyes grew large as I slowed in the circle drive. “This is home?”
“Yes. You like?”
He nodded. “It reminds me of the stately manor houses at home.” He turned to look at the pasture just across the road where the cattle grazed freely. “Yes, it definitely reminds me of home.”
“Really? I thought Extania was pretty urban.”
“Some areas are. It’s a small island, for sure. But where I lived wasn’t very…urban.” He turned back to me. “After we unload, would it be all right to walk into the pasture?”
I didn’t know much about cows and definitely didn’t know if there was a mean bull present, but I swallowed my own apprehension down and said, “Of course. This is your home, so I think you should get to know it.”
“Great!”
I unlocked the trunk and Dubois grabbed all our bags in his hands and gestured for me to precede him. I took my time walking up the walkway with the pampas grass sprouting around it. I liked the look but I was well aware there could be unwanted “visitors” lurking there also.
Dubois sat the bags down in the foyer and stared up the winding staircase. “Wow. This is truly magnificent.”
I clapped my hands in glee. “Glad you like it.”
“And you did all this restoration…by yourself?”
I couldn’t take all the credit. “Well, actually, I came up with the ideas, then
