It was fun to laugh with two people who had meant so much to me in my life. Irene arrived first, bearing two bottles of margarita mix, strawberries, and a bottle of tequila. Since Elaine wasn’t there yet, I asked if she’d like a glass of wine to start with. She preferred it. Good wine: Pale Morning Dun, a very tasty white from a New Mexico winery, Wines of the San Juan, in Blanco, New Mexico. I’ll have to get some more of that. I’d had it since the Bernalillo Wine Festival last Labor Day weekend. I don’t drink much anymore. Gave away a bottle of sweet wine I bought to my step-daughter for X-mas. Really need an occasion and people to drink with. This was certainly an occasion. Elaine showed up just as I finished giving Irene the nickel tour of the place. We were looking at photographs of my relatives over the fireplace when she arrived. She had decided we needed a spinach/noodle cassrole to go with the crabcakes I was making. I had whipped up some mashed potatoes and carrots (Mammy’s Colored Mashed Potatoes in White Trash Cooking), but I had let the water boil out and they had a burned taste to ’em. They said I should serve ’em anyway, and I put the bowl in the microwave, checked on it, gave it a couple more minutes and forgot about it until the next day. I guess I was distracted by having two beautiful women in my house. Good thing Elaine had brought the casserole.
Elaine was the person who got me to move to New Mexico in the first place. She’s five years older, but still fine. We had been married in a non-legal hand-fasting ceremony in the Ozarks. Jumped over a fire together. Never got a license. Only lasted a year and half. She left me for a quick-talking extrovert. They had two fine kids. They’re divorced. Elaine married again, twice, since then, and divorced them both.
The other woman, Irene, was my first (legal) wife, and still a sexy-looking woman. I’d ask her out but she has someone, and it’s a very long-term committed relationship. I had been her third husband; she has no desire to marry again.
Elaine and Irene had met years ago, during my marriage to Irene, and we went back and forth to each other’s houses for dinners for awhile. It strained the marriage though, and after a big fight that included Elaine as a point of contention, we agreed to split, and divorced. Irene and I actually started dating again, and saw each other for a year after the divorce, but the incompatibility hadn’t gone away.
It’s an odd thing to be around two women you used to have relationships with. It doesn’t take long for everyone to agree that I was a difficult person to live with. Hell, even I agree. It was fun to talk about freely. I have reached the point where I don’t care what I say, to anyone. It’s dangerous, especially at work, but neither of these two are bothered by me anymore. They enjoyed talking with each other. Lots to catch up on.
Since I live by myself, and am not seeing anyone (not someone that will go out with me), Irene wanted to know why I didn’t just move in with Elaine. That was always her thing: she always thought, after finding some of my writings, that I was still in love with Elaine, and couldn’t wait to get back together with her. At first, yeah, sure. But, as the years wore on, and after I met Irene, that no longer mattered. I never could convince Irene of that.
The strangest thing was that Elaine and I had the same answer, almost simultaneously: I have never forgiven Elaine. And I haven’t. She dumped me, although she didn’t seem to like me saying it so bluntly. She thinks we should get together once in a while. Perhaps we will. She’s OK.
I haven’t talked to people off-line so much (except for Karen) in a long time. It was fun to laugh at ourselves. I seem to have come to terms with my own poor behavior in the past. I am glad I knew both of these women. It would be nice to keep connected. It’d be nice to fuck them too, but that’s neither here nor there.
Elaine wanted to know if, given the choice, I’d rather kick my recent ex (legal wife #2), or go to bed with her. Elaine thinks I haven’t heard the last of her. I told her I’d prefer sex. I always prefer sex, to just about anything. I’m not in a hurry, though. Elaine is an odd one, and I don’t know if I could take getting involved with her again. Perhaps sex would be possible, if there is nothing else to the relationship besides a friendship. She remembers me having a fine ass when I was young.
If Irene was free, it would be nice to fuck her, but really, one of the problems was that, to borrow a bit of popular culture, I just wasn’t that into her anymore. I learned from a friend of hers that when we had first met, she had been looking for someone for a good fuck. She looks really, really good. It’d still be fun, but maybe wouldn’t be repeated much. Not an option anyway.
Both women remembered me as being good for sex. That was nice. Maybe they were just trying to make me feel good.
Irene had to leave first. She wanted to get home. Her boyfriend works late, but he was due home, or there already. Elaine stayed for a cappuccino; I know how to make those. She asked for cinnamon, which I have, but we both forgot to add it. She kissed me when she arrived, and made sure Irene noticed. I think she kissed me when she left. She’s a kisser. I miss kissing.
Reader: what else were you expecting? 🙂