Sunday, July 21, 2013

How It Began W Harley

I have been trying to write something . . . anything . . . all day w/o success.  Been trolling the internet for ideas.  Nothing.  Nada.  Zip.  Unless I want to rant about social issues dominating the news.  And its not that I don't want to rant.  It's that I'm trying not too.

When in doubt, talk about Harley.  Harley - my "go to" topic.

Believe it or not, but I resist talking about Harley. If I followed my impulses, I would be posting daily about Harley. And then everyone, especially me, would get sick of listening to me drone on about our relationship.  It reads like some "Twilight" saga (and I hated that movie - vampires don't "sparkle"!!!).

I still do love him.  But 'not loving' him just does not seem to be an option for me.

We met when I was working as a waitress. A fair amount of law enforcement ate at our place. Most flirted w me and I flirted back w the polite ones. A few asked me out. But I already knew all about 'badge bunnies' and I had no desire to be treated like one, so I politely declined claiming to have a boyfriend. The boyfriend was mostly imaginary, though I would have one off and on. I had been w the place for a while before Harley moved into the area and was hired by the Sheriff's Department. I fear Harley or the other guys would not appreciate this comparison, but this is how I am going to describe him - when he sat w those pack of wolves, it was immediately obvious that he was the alpha wolf. And, for the record, I like wolves, so this in not intended as a slam towards the guys or cops in general. Oh my God was he a flirt too, but also the most polite man you had ever met.

He usually met up w others, but sometimes he would come by himself. It was not uncommon for me to sit and talk w the guys, if business was slow and there were only a few of them at the table. Harley learned my boyfriend was fictional, but never gave away the secret. I knew he was married and knew this was why he never hit on me (not that being married ever stopped any of the others from hitting one me). He came in one day really down and I asked him what was wrong. That's when I learned they had seperated and were planning to divorce. I tried to buy his dinner that night, but he just made sure to leave an extra large tip which he knew would cover the dinner too. He was always frustrating in how he preferred (insisted) he do for you; rather than allowing you to do anything for him. And mostly this is how it went. He came in, he ate, we talked, we laughed, and he left. If it was extra late when he came in, he often stayed till the girls were ready to leave, then he would walk us to our cars. I liked to think he always walked me last to mine.

One night - and I really can not explain why except to say a it was a few weeks before Christmas and I was in a really good holiday mood - when Harley was walking me to my car, I asked him to wait for a moment. I pulled out a pen and paper, then proceeded to give him my phone number. Unasked. I forget what dorky thing I said, something like he didn't have to call me if he did not want, but if he wanted to ever get together . . . well, you know. Smooth I was not. I suddenly knew how some boys in high school felt. You know the ones, they ask you out by saying something like, "if you have nothing better to do Saturday, do you want to go out". Lame. So lame.  In that split second, I had more empathy and compassion for every boy who ever tried to ask me out.  Initially excited that I had actually done it, I felt like a complete idiot when driving away. Harley was nearly 20 years older than me. He probably thought I was some schoolgirl. I was still mentally beating myself up when, fifteen minutes later, he called.


  1. I like reading these type of stories from you.

  2. That's a great story. Made me smile and nod. And I definitely needed a smile today.

  3. You guys are great. I debated all night and day about pulling it down. Its hard to explain why. I feel weird the way I go on and on about Harley. You guys made me feel okay about it. Thank you.

  4. i'm surprised he was able to wait 15 minutes.

    There are few things more frightening than talking to a girl for the first time when you are in high school. Rejection, at any age, sucks, but the feeling of your heart racing, your head spinning, and listening to yourself stammer for just the right words (which never come out) is trauma at it's worst.

    Your empathy is appreciated.