These things, they just happen. You can’t control them.
It happened to me one morning while I was drinking coffee. I remember it was a Wednesday because I wanted to wear my Wednesday panties but couldn’t find them and had to settle for my Sunday panties. I was staring at the basket of potatoes that would be empty by the next day when he crashed through the window. The dramatic entry was immensely appreciated by the neighbor’s dog.
I knew by the way he made a quick study of my apartment and me, that he wasn’t a man. He was a manthing.
I informed him that I don’t do anything before my morning coffee. Ever the gentlemanthing, he took a seat beside me, refreshed my cup and helped himself. We drank coffee, talking about nothing while the neighbor managed to subdue her dog without abusing his lineage.
He then proceeded to deal with the remains of the window, disposed of the pieces of glass and mopped the floor for good measure. I did not have to double check his work. Manthing and I watched a reality show on television and he made the right amount of nasty comments in the most eloquent manner. I asked him what he preferred for lunch and manthing did not shrug. He replied that any dish with potatoes paired with the leftover chicken would be lovely.
Manthing and I ate spiced potatoes with leftover chicken and the conversation was mute. It was turning out to be a beautiful day.
We spent the evening doing all my favorite things. He was more than eager to watch Love Story while snacking on caramel popcorn and play the guitar for me.
I decided to do something special for manthing so I wore my satin nightgown to bed. I had to cut off the sleeves and tuck my stomach but it was worth the effort because after taking one look at me, he exclaimed that I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. When he did not insist on sex, I knew I was in the company of the latest model. I fell asleep with my golden haired dreammanthing, his strong arms tucking me close, while he pretended to snore.
I awoke in the middle of the night to a middle-aged man screaming at us. He was wearing a lopsided wig and a belly that was going to rip open his shirt. After throwing his wedding ring at me, he stormed off along with a suitcase. Manthing frowned at me and I told him, No, I don’t recognize that man.
Next morning, there were two cups of coffee waiting on the kitchen counter with no sign of manthing. I wasn’t surprised. The latest model had a tendency to go rogue. But I didn’t mind falling in love with a bad boy. I was eating blueberry pie for breakfast and had put on my Wednesday panties when it was Thursday. I was a bad girl too.