The Sportin' Life

by Nancy Frederick

  At night when I’m ready to go to sleep, Samson come in to be with me. He jumps first into my lap, then almost climbs onto my chest, where he sits, gazing adoringly into my eyes. He rubs his little cheek against my cheek and he purrs happily. Sometimes when my hair is spread out on the pillow, he reaches for it with his paws, kneading away and purring like a motor as he gives me a cat massage, while I sit back relaxed against the circle of his adoration. It is like being made love to by a devoted partner, and it is wonderful.

  Samson is completely focused in everything he does, and I admire that. When he expresses his love for me, there is nothing else on his mind, and I feel blessed as the object of his devotion. And now that he has come into my life, I am happy and content. I don’t worry so much about meeting a man and I don’t feel lonely. I have love to receive and to share, and it is wonderful to experience. It’s not that I think that Samson is my whole life or my complete future, because I know that my destiny still lies before me like uncharted territory. I do think he is more than a pet, however. He is my little true love and be brings me happiness in a greater amount than I have ever experienced before. Soulmates come in all sizes and shapes—and species, I guess.

  Kevin

  The Near Miss

  My first large project after I moved to Los Angeles was a multi-corporation recapitalization. It kept me so busy that I hardly had time to look for a house, but since Lou seemed happy enough to have me staying with him, I didn’t worry about it. Because the work load was so heavy and all the support staff was overburdened already, I asked for a temp to get me through this project. That was how I met Holly.

  From the moment she arrived at the desk outside my office and we were introduced, there was a chemistry. I wanted to explore a romance with her immediately and when she looked into my eyes, I knew that the feeling was mutual. There was fire in her glance that I read as a passion for life and a response to me. My first thought was that it was too bad they hadn’t sent me a middle-aged, overweight temp, because Holly was just too much of a distraction and I had enough pressure on this job already. It had to be just business or we would never get through it. I also didn’t want to start off in the firm by making a bad impression by dating a co-worker, usually a no no.

  I didn’t even call her by her first name. It was always “Ms. Burke,” and she therefore called me “Mr. Samson.” Each day I would come into the office early, and she would be sitting at her desk already, waiting to greet me. We smiled and it was as though some sort of unspoken bond of intimacy was being formed and I fantasized about what it would be like to be involved with this cheerful, friendly woman. She was always neat and well groomed, and despite the casual atmosphere of most businesses here in L.A., Holly always turned up in a suit, a string of glistening pearls around her neck, and her hair tied back in some kind of chic knot rather than loose and tempting. I would greet her and she would look at me with those fiery eyes, reaching to finger her pearls as we talked. I imagines that there was a surge of heat in her loins that caused the nervous gesture, and I knew I felt the same way. I wanted to sit on the end of her bed and loosen her hair, remove her business suit until she wore nothing more than those luminous pearls and the smile that I would cause by making love to her until she begged me to stop.

  I never made so much as an improper remark, however, because decorum is essential. Holly typed all my correspondence, assembled all the complicated financial charts and typed them accurately without complaint. I signed or approved them with a nod of appreciation, and it was just as though we were nothing more than boss and secretary. Holly puzzled me, though, because she was awfully good at these menial tasks and she seemed too intelligent to work at such an unfulfilling job. Plus she dressed well, and I couldn’t imagine how she pulled it off on a temp’s salary.

  My interest in her grew steadily each day, and I have to say that it was a delicious experience. All that excitement building under the surface while we both pretended that it was business as usual was intensely arousing. It was almost better than an affair, because the stage of potential at the beginning is always more satisfying than the actual unfolding of the drama. The newness of starting out, the feeling of being explorers on a mission of passion is like no other. Of course eventually there has to be a climax. If I had been seeing someone else at this time, it would have been easier, because my excitement over and interest in Holly could have been allowed to build slowly while I had the other woman as an escape valve. To have one romance building while another wanes is always the most satisfying process. But I didn’t. All I had was my work, an occasional call from a realtor to view a house, which I would do only if I had the time, and an infrequent night out with Lou. Holly was the only woman in my life, and it was obvious that ultimately the fire we shared would have to erupt into flames and I looked forward to that time.

  Eventually we completed the project, and although I almost didn’t want to let go of the excitement of our daily unrequited passion, my glands cried out for some requitement. So early in the afternoon on Friday, Holly’s last day, I stopped by her desk and asked her to have dinner with me that night. She accepted. If she had said no, I think I would have retired right then from the mating game, but of course her interest was as great as my own.

  I waited for her in my car in front of the building, because neither of us wanted to be seen walking out together. She emerged, looking as fresh and pretty as ever and we sped off toward the Ventura Freeway. Never once did Holly question where we were going, sitting beside me cheerily participating in the conversation which was as casual as we both could make it. Now that we were alone together at last, it was as though we were both somehow preoccupied with our own thoughts. Mine were about getting to Santa Barbara, where I had reservde a room facing the ocean, one with a private Jacuzzi and twenty-four hour room service.

  The drive was pleasant, and as always awe-inspiringly beautiful. The last few miles along the ocean relaxed us both, and we drove silently, feeling the passion of the tumultuous Pacific that echoed our own response to each other. Eventually I pulled into the hotel lot, and for the first time reached over to kiss Holly. Her lips yielded sweetly to me and I knew that this was as right as it was going to get. We walked hand in had into the hotel and checked in as though it had been mutually prearranged.

  Holly responded to my every move like a dance partner. I closed the hotel door and pressed her body against it, feeling at last the length of her against me. She raised her lips to my kisses, let her hand linger on the sensitive spot at the back of my neck, traced the ridge of my teeth with her tongue. It was bliss and I began to think that I had found the woman who would be my mate forever.

  Finally we made love, and it was almost as good as it had been so many time in so many fantasies. And at the end I felt totally satisfied and at peace. I know most women think that men always feel totally satisfied after every sexual encounter, because sex is usually defined by the man’s cycle of arousal and climax, but that just isn’t so. I can reach orgasm and still feel itchy and distracted and tense, not at all nourished and satisfied in the way that really close sex with an essential emotional undertone can provide. And despite the fact that I have had so many women, there are still only a handful that linger in my mind as the special partners with whom I felt that sense of completion and peace. Imagine if I could take a week out of my life and rotate that handful of women so that each night I could have one of them, and then imagine the cumulative happiness that would build as a result of so many perfect nights of passion with so many perfect partners. It would be astonishing.

  I was happy, and it was good to have Holly beside me in bed, naked and warm and open. I stretched my arm out to cradle her head and she snuggled down into my embrace like a puzzle piece falling into place. We lay there talking about everything and nothing. I told her about moving here from New York and I asked her about her plans for the future. Holly said she liked working as a temp because it gave her a chance to meet people. She thought that one day she migh
t discover a job that she would like to have permanently, but if not it didn’t really matter, because the thing she wanted more than anything else was to fall in love, get married, and raise a family. She didn’t really have any career urges and she didn’t have a need to be liberated.

  I looked at her clear, fresh face, and I listened to her talk. It was like a trip back in time, and in a way it was refreshing. Imagine being married to a woman who wanted to be married rather than one who expected you to wash the dishes because she had legal briefs to read. Imagine having a woman who was happy to stay at home and to focus on your needs instead of demanding that you be some modern, liberated equal partner version of a man, whether or not you made the real money. Imagine a woman soft and sweet, someone without that hard, sophisticated edge. That could be wonderful. I could come home at night to her and tell her all about my day, and she would want to listen because my day would be important to her, and all her days would be pretty much the same. Her days would focus around me and my homecomings. And if I were stressed out at night, she would rub my back, happy to care for me and filled with the serenity of a woman who has the freedom to stay at home and retreat from the chaos of the real world. She could be like a soft nest of security and love into which I could sink.

  More and more I began to think that Holly was the woman for me, and so I was extra attentive, because I wanted to insure that she would feel the same, if I did decide to fall in love with her. She became my steady date. Every weekend I would plan something wonderful to do with Holly. Because she lived at home with her parents and because I was still bunking with Lou, we had to go to a hotel, and that gave us the chance to explore the Los Angeles area, and in a sense to have a honeymoon every Saturday night. Each weekend we would go somewhere different, and each time I tried to make the setting more romantic than the previous one. Sometimes we would start on a Friday and then we would have the whole weekend together, although that was rare, because I like to ease into togetherness and not overwhelm myself or my partner too much at first.

  I called Holly every day, and it would improve my mood each morning to talk to her and to hear the warmth and affection she felt for me. I would try to time my calls to just before lunch so that I could carry those feelings out with me as fuel for my fantasies at lunch time. Then I could go to eat filled with the happiness of knowing how much Holly cared for me, and feeling secure that if I did eventually grow to love her, then surely she would return my feelings.

  It began to seem important to me to find my own place, so that Holly and I could get together mid-week. I stepped up my efforts and began seeing more and more houses that seemed like viable possibilities. I imagined what it would be like. I would go home and Holly could meet me there after work. She could cook me a wonderful dinner, because I was sure that she was a gourmet cook. All girls who want to be wives are gourmet cooks. We could have a swim in the pool, if I got a house with a pool, and I definitely planned to. We could soak naked in the Jacuzzi and then fall into bed together, early enough to make love for a long while and still get to sleep in plenty of time to feel rested the next morning. I could even make love to her again when we woke up.

  My dreams about the house and Holly escalated daily. It was almost as if Holly herself didn’t play a real part in the plans, because Holly was more in my mind than in real life, and that made it even better because I could imagine it any way I wanted it. Of course Holly was an important part of my life, and she was as sweet and congenial as ever, but she was a greater part of my fantasy life, and in that she was far more interesting, because I could invest her with many qualities she didn’t possess, making her an amalgam of all the women I’ve known and the things about them I’ve liked.

  I began to think about asking Holly to move in with me. That was the ultimate fantasy. I could imagine Holly there for me every day and every night, and maybe she could even quit working if she wanted to. God knows I make enough money. No, I didn’t really want her to quit work, because that would be a serious step, and even in my fantasies I wasn’t ready to propose to Holly. But if she lived with me, she would be there all the time, ready to smile at me and to walk willingly into my arms the way she always did, as though I were the best prize she could ever imagine.

  Finally I did buy a house. The only problem was that it wouldn’t be vacant for several more weeks, but after all, instant gratification isn’t everything. I now had my house, at least I knew what it looked like, and it did have a pool and a Jacuzzi, so my fantasies were fueled by the reality that I would soon inhabit. I took Holly with me to shop for furniture, although she hadn’t actually seen the house. We walked hand in hand through the furniture stores, talking about this possibility and that, just as though we were the happy couple that I always envision. It was a wonderful time. I never had the experience before of sharing a personal task that has emotional meaning, and it is as special as all the songwriters say.

  Holly and I would sit in restaurants and discuss possibilities for the house and I would listen to her suggestions with satisfaction. There she was across from me, so pretty and neat, with her soft, innocent voice describing the various pieces of furniture we had seen and how they all might go together to create a home in which I would be happy. That was Holly’s goal—my happiness and it was wonderful to be at the center of her world.

  It was then that I first noticed Holly’s teeth. They were crooked. How odd that I had never seen before how the left front tooth overlapped the right. Holly would smile as usual, and instead of hearing what she was saying, I focused on that tooth. Over and over in my mind I would see the crooked tooth and envision straightening it. Focusing on the tooth distracted me from what I was saying, and thus it fell to Holly to uphold more of the conversation. And suddenly I noticed something. Holly had no real ideas or interests of her own. She never talked about her day. All she did was listen to me talk about my day. And although she was sympathetic if there were a problem, she never really had much to say about a possible solution. She didn’t offer any insights about my ideas. She just listened and supported me. Maybe I needed more than that, and maybe Holly was unprepared to offer it.

  That was the germ of dissatisfaction that entered my romance and steadily grew. Each day as I called Holly for our lunchtime conversation, I listened keenly to see if she actually said anything. And she never did. I might as well have been talking to a recording of the weather for all the quality interaction that took place. How could I have been so dazzled that I failed to notice this fatal flaw in Holly’s character? Romance can be so distressing, because there you go pouring your whole soul into an alliance and then you discover that you are building castles on air. The only thing that saves me is that I can wait to fall in love, and I was really lucky this time, because imagine how hurt I would have been if I had let myself go and had fallen in love with Holly before I discovered the truth about her. Imagine what it would have been like if I had married her. I’d come home every night to a woman who was a shadow to myself, someone who never had an idea of her own to contribute to our relationship, or my life. Imagine having to do all the thinking and planning and having her merely go along without having to contribute her fair share to the partnership. Imagine having her like an albatross around my neck, someone I would have to support because she had no ability to take care of herself. It would be awful.

  I began to feel distressed all the time. There was Holly waiting for me like a trap, and despite the fact that I still wanted to see her and sleep with her and feel her soft body in my arms, I knew that I had to break it off with Holly before she tempted me any further. I had no other woman to distract me, and unfortunately, that is always the best way for me to end an affair. Cold turkey is just so unbearable.

  I was puzzled over this dilemma for at least two weeks, and Holy didn’t even notice that something was wrong. She was as cheerful and loving as ever, just as though things were the same, when in fact everything was different but she was just too unaware to see it. How could I have thought that
she was right for me when she was too thick even to see that my interest had disintegrated?

  One night I stopped at the market so that I could buy some beer. I was thinking that maybe I could go back to Lou’s and discuss this whole problem with him, and maybe the beers would relax us both. He might have some insight to offer me and some advice about this whole messy situation. As I was going toward the liquor department, I passed through the fresh flowers and I stopped to look at them. For a second I was reminded of Liana, and the beautiful bouquets she always had in her apartment. Now that was a woman who could think for herself, and it didn’t stop her from being soft and loving. The memory of Liana made me more depressed than ever, and so I pushed her as far out of my mind as I could.

  Just at the end of the flower section, were some flats of impatiens. I reached down and lifted the flats into a cart, thinking that I could plant them in my yard next week after I moved in. As I reached down, another cart came crashing into my own, and I looked up to see the cause of the excitement. And that was how I met Jennifer. She smiled at me, and immediately I hoped that she might turn out better than Holly had.

  Suddenly everything became clear. I knew what I had to do. I called Holly and told her it was over; she was hysterical. I was sorry, but I couldn’t ruin my life to save her feelings, and I made the conversation as short as possible. Sinking down into a chair, I opened a beer, relaxed and took a gulp. It was the best beer I had ever tasted. I would chill out for a while, then maybe I would give Jennifer a call and get to know her. Just as it began to be clear that things were on the upswing, the bell rang. Lou was in the shower, so I answered it.