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Archive for January, 2010

When last we saw Beth and Eddie, Eddie had asked for permission from the president of the college to date Beth. Beth had said she would go out with him if he got permission. He did, and she didn’t.

SHE SAID

Yes, it was stupid. I know. I could have saved myself plenty of angst. The relationship with the reporter continued its death spiral until April 1994. He had moved out of town by this point and I was thinking of joining him. I even found a job. At the very last moment possible, the small voice of reason inside finally broke free (think Jojo’s “yop” from “Horton Hears a Who”). I backed out of the job, and the “relationship,” such as it was, dissolved.

This is where Beth gets her groove back, thanks to Eddie.

I switched from PR at SCAD to reporting at a local television station. Like a true multitasker, I also started doing weather on Sundays, and serving as a DJ for the country station connected to the TV station. Free concert tickets — woohoo! I hadn’t previously been a country music fan, but that all changed during my tenure as K.C. Quinn. (I couldn’t use my real name, of course, because I was a reporter and that would be weird. I wanted to be called Moonpie Jones, but they wouldn’t let me.)

After the breakup, I quickly took up with another reporter in town, but was considering other options.

HE SAID

I am not sure, but I think she is talking here about the man with the concaved chest I referred to as “Stick Figure.”

SHE SAID

I had a chance to go to the Sawyer Brown/Tim McGraw/Diamond Rio concert, and I decided to take Eddie. We had begun chatting quite regularly at this point, but it was all strictly platonic.

HE SAID

I couldn’t believe she finally called me to ask for a date. “A country concert? I’m sure I’ll find lots of lively Puerto Ricans there,” I thought. But undeterred, I saw my chance and took it. I’d never been to a country concert. Sawyer who? Wasn’t he in a book? But it was Beth, so I went. I like all kinds of music, and I did have a good time.

SHE SAID

It was this night that Eddie informed me that I should lay off the dudes for six months, just date casually, and figure out what I really wanted. Bold, no?

HE SAID

It was all part of my master plan. The friend in me wanted her to stop trying to date people seriously for a while. The guy in me wanted her to continue her behavior and date me next. But she was never going to be happy until she figured out what she really wanted. And I was hoping it was me. You know, that whole “letting the bird go” thing.

SHE SAID

After the concert, I drove him home. If you are wondering why he never drove, it is because he had a craptastic Civic that barely fit one person, and it was always broken down. Sexy.

HE SAID

That’s why I walked a lot.

SHE SAID

In the parking lot of his apartment, we had our first kiss.

HE SAID

The kiss was very nice.

SHE SAID

But it was very short and sweet. He broke it off, and I said, “That’s it? I waited years for that?”

He said, “You played hard to get, and now it is my turn.”

I was hooked.

But I did what he said. For once.

Up next: The jig is up

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We interrupt the Beth and Eddie story with a brief word from our chicken.

Trish has not made an appearance in a while, either on this blog or in real life. It’s been too darn cold, and she has been holed up in her coop. I wanted to make sure she was OK, so I went out bearing a seed treat for her. She charged out of her coop and flew up onto my arm like some kind of parrot.

We now return you to our regularly scheduled blogging. Part III will appear tomorrow.

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SHE SAID

While I remember the box incident clearly, I don’t remember anything else specifically about Eddie for a little while. I had a lot going on.

My three-year relationship with my college boyfriend was tanking because of the four-hour distance between Savannah and Atlanta. Well, that and because I was beginning a dalliance with a particular television reporter in Savannah. The boyfriend and I parted ways (relatively amicably, I thought, yet apparently not as he refuses to be my Facebook friend). Serial monogamist that I was, I started seriously dating the reporter.

HE SAID

I remember this boyfriend; he seemed very “Oh well! Que sera, sera.” I met this little guy, and I like him. It’s a bit sad he doesn’t want to be friends with Beth. If we went our separate ways, I would always want to be friends with Beth. If you can understand her, she is a great and loyal friend. She continues to be friends with people — yes, even guys — who I don’t think are worthy of her friendship. So he is making a bad choice.

SHE SAID

Eddie first appears in my journal in the Sept. 4, 1992, entry. I went to Malone’s (now Wild Wing Café) with my best girl friend and her friend, and ran into Eddie: “We told each other our life stories and then I drove him home.”

I wish I could go back in time and slap around the person I was. The reporter and I should have dated for about a month, but the soap opera dragged on for well over a year. It seems so clear now that I had no business being with someone about whom I wrote journal entries such as “We were arguing in line at Dumbo” and “The evening turned sour when I realized how unwilling he is to do the things I think are fun.”

HE SAID

I remember said evening at Malone’s. I also remember thinking, “Aaaw shiiit — she can dance too!” And I remember the reporter dude. I knew right away he really didn’t care that much about her. So I really didn’t care if he saw me talking to his girl. He cared more about going golfing than spending the day with his girlfriend. Fine with me! And thank you, kind sir! Don’t mind if I do step right on in here and steal your girlfriend.

I assure you my friends, if a man tried the things I tried in front of my face, there would be consequences.

SHE SAID

Anyway, there was a point where I was almost smart enough to ditch the reporter. Back to the journal, Jan. 10, 1993: “I went to the SCAD/Millsaps basketball game … at the game, Eddie asked me out again. He looked quite alluring, but I resisted.” And here’s one from Jan. 19, 1993: “Eddie is becoming increasingly hard to resist.” Apparently, he said to me on that day, “Let’s get married.”

Part of my resistance to Eddie had to do with the fact that he was a full-time student at SCAD in addition to being a full-time employee. Faculty and staff were/are prohibited from fraternizing with students, and I tend to be a stickler for the rules.

On Feb. 17, 1993, I wrote, “I can’t stop thinking about Eddie now. He came by today and said he was going to get permission from Richard (Rowan, the SCAD president at the time) to date me. If he does, I will.”

Well, he did, and I didn’t. Even after a permission-conveying phone call from my boss, the (amused) executive vice president, it took another 14 months for us to go on our first official date.

HE SAID

Readers, readers, readers — fear not! I  am a persistent man. Yes, I could have said “Well, later for you then, girl” but I knew she was special. If a woman can be that loyal to guys who treat her like crap, imagine what she’ll do for a man who thinks she’s great!

Up next: The first date

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SHE SAID:

It was a dark and stormy night.

OK, not really.

It was a beautiful sunny day in Savannah in March 1992. I had started a new job as communications coordinator at SCAD, and my office was on the third floor of Kanter Hall (now Morris Hall).

My predecessor was a pack rat, and I wanted to make a clean start. I loaded up two boxes with old files and put in a work order to have a member of the facilities crew move them to storage in Wallin Hall.

A couple of days later, a posse of guys in weight belts filed into my office looking for the boxes listed on the work order.

Smart ass that I am, I said, “It takes all of you to move two boxes?”

HE SAID

“The message we got was to pick up boxes. It could have been 100.”

She was very nicely dressed in a skirt, I remember. Nothing more attractive than a nicely dressed smart mouth. James G. still calls her “swift mouth.” I was in charge of the facilities crew that included James G., Brenon, Eggy, Patrick, Brian, Rambo, Joseph, Joel, James R. and Jimbo.

Here is some of the crew: James, Brenon, me, Patrick, Jimbo and Joel. Those were the days of James’ jheri curl. What can I say about the grease? Notice Pat’s weight belt. He was so skinny, I can’t believe we even found one to fit him.

Here is a later picture of the crew, circa 1993 or so.

Me, Joel, Jimbo, Wolverine, Brenon, Rambo, Bear, James, Alex, Brian, Patrick and Joel.

SHE SAID

I think he brought all those guys with him that day. I remember he led the way, followed closely by James and Joseph. He and James are both tall fellows, well over 6 feet. I felt dwarfed, plus silly that they were all there for just two boxes. They took the boxes and left, but it would not be the last time I saw the Weight Belt Brigade.

Up next: The pursuit begins

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Two readers (!) asked for the story of how Eddie and I met. I will get to that later this week. Today, though, I want to list 10 of the things I have said this week that I never thought, never planned and never wanted to say:

1. Get your Wolverine claws off the coffee table.

2. Pick your Wolverine claw off of the floor.

3. Stop harassing the dog.

4. Leave your wiener alone.

5. Did you wipe your butt?

6. Stop messing with each other.

7. Get off the back of the couch.

8. No one is going to be killing anybody.

9. No, the chicken cannot come inside the house.

10. Because I said so. (That’s the worst one of all.)

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It’s an odd evening in our house. Eddie is trying to learn some new moves for the kickboxing class he is teaching tomorrow. He hasn’t taught it in a while because of his shoulder surgery. And, of course, the kids can’t stand someone doing anything without them. So this is the scene:

Gideon is actually pretty good at getting the moves. Dominic just wants to play.

Anyway, the really odd aspect is that Eddie had a hard time getting some of the moves because they run contrary to his training as an actual boxer. So I had to help.

Shocking, I know.

Especially considering that I shun exercise (obviously). And the fact that I was incapable of learning drill team or cheerleading moves well enough to be chosen for the squads in high school. But I did learn the heck out of some ice skating choreography. Everyone has some latent ability somewhere, I guess.

Now I think I need to ice my quads.

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A contest!

In the words of that prophet Whitney Houston, “I believe that children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way.” Yet how are they supposed to learn correct English when adults don’t even know?

Case in point: The “top secret” file that came with Dominic’s Iron Man action figure.

Top secret file

There are two glaring errors of the homonym variety. The first readers of this blog who identify the two errors win lovely virtual prizes.

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