There’s something about Mary

What that something is I haven’t quite figured out. Maybe I never will.

Last night’s get together was something of a roller coaster ride. Mary was a little late arriving at our rendevous location and we were bumping up against the pending curfew. No trikes were available so she walked with me to the house without complaint. Mary said she wasn’t hungry, so I made up a batch of strawberry-banana smoothies.

I tried to engage her in some conversation but she seemed shyer and more reserved than during our first meeting. I’d had a few beers while waiting for her so I probably wasn’t providing much inspiration either. I remember asking her if she likes me and she responded by holding up her thumb and index finger maybe an inch apart and said “a little”. Hmm, that made me wonder why she had even bothered to come. Oh. Probably for the money. This led me to broach the subject of my being her Sugar Daddy. Mary had never heard of the concept and after I explained it she simply said “will it pay the rent?”

Mary strikes me as being quite the enigma–equal parts shy, innocent, and mercenary. But I guess desperate times require stepping out of her comfort zone. So I took her upstairs to the bedroom.

The next morning she came downstairs acting like nothing was wrong. The dogs like her at least. She didn’t want breakfast and after a couple of minutes of small talk, she asked if she could take a shower. I took her upstairs and showed how the shower water heater worked.

While she was in the bathroom, I put the rent money under her phone. She came out, saw the money, and asked “what’s this?”. I told her it was the rent money. And she didn’t want to take it. I finally told her it was her birthday present and her severance pay. She asked why and I told her I wasn’t interested in spending time with someone who couldn’t even pretend to be interested in me. Mary said, “but I really do like you a lot!”. I’m like, WTF? We just had this conversation on the bed and you agreed that you weren’t attracted to me. Her response floored me: “I really couldn’t understand much of what you were saying. You talk too fast.” So I said, well, you know, if you don’t tell me you don’t understand me, how am I supposed to explain or slow down? You kept nodding and agreeing with me, so I assumed you understood. So, anyway, we agreed that I would try to slow down my speech (my domestic helper agrees I’m hard to understand at times) and Mary will tell me to repeat myself as needed. We’ll see.

I told Mary to keep the money and consider it an advance on her first month’s salary. She reluctantly agreed to this. We haven’t really defined the terms of her employment yet. I’m just looking for a little company and companionship. And satisfying boom-boom now and then. I have no idea how that is going to work out, but I’ll give her another shot anyway I guess. I don’t really have any other irons in the fire right now.

And oh yeah. I walked her to the Jeepney stop and said goodbye. On her way home she sent me a message: “I think I’m falling in love with you.” Oh boy, here we go again. I’m a LONG way from feeling that emotion so I just told her we’d take it slowly and see where it leads us.

Bottom line: No, I don’t think she is a scammer. I think she is inexperienced and naturally shy. I’m not sure what her ultimate goal is, but it probably revolves around financial security, i.e. “the rent”. I think she has been pretty upfront about that. Now if she can just up her game and learn to make me feel special we could potentially have a win-win. Otherwise, I’m prepared to walk away.

UPDATE: I did something I very rarely do here at LTG…edited a completed post. I deleted some of the details about last night because it just seemed like too much information for a public blog. Sorry if what remains is more disjointed than usual.

5 thoughts on “There’s something about Mary”

Well, I will once again spare you any commentary about the situation; it is, after all, your life to live. But I will offer up this joke, which a buddy of mine told me years and years ago:

A man comes to a farm looking to buy a rooster for breeding purposes. The farmer he speaks with grimaces and says, “Yeah, we got ourselves a rooster, but we cain’t sell ‘im. Wouldn’t be proper.”

“What’s the problem with him?” the man asks.

“You don’t wanna know,” says the farmer. “But I’ll give you a look at ‘im if you want.” The man assents, and they move into the farm to see the rooster.

The man is treated to the sight of a powerful-looking, amazingly healthy rooster that would be perfect for breeding. It stood, proud and alone, in its own sequestered part of the farm, like a deadly weapon that gets taken out only in times of emergency.

“Good God!” the man exclaims. “You have to sell him to me!”

“Ain’t fer sale,” says the farmer. “Wouldn’t be proper. All’s I can say is, that thang is dangerous.”

The man grated, “I’ll offer you—” and he named an utterly exorbitant amount of money. The farmer considered.

“Okay, then,” said the farmer. “He’s yers. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya’, though.”

Giddy with delight, the man trucks the rooster back to his own property and, impatient to get things moving, tosses the rooster into his own henhouse. Humming to himself, the man retires for the day.

The next morning, the man walks over to the henhouse and opens the door. He screams in horror. Every single one of his prized hens is dead, and the rooster is standing among the carcasses, breathing hard and staring at the man with crazed, bloodshot eyes. The man moans, “Good Lord, he… he fucked them to death! Jesus, I’m gonna have to figure this out…” And with that, the man takes the rooster out and places him in a barn with a bunch of other farm animals—cows, pigs, horses. “Lemme think about this,” the man mutters to himself, and he goes back into his domicile.

The next morning, the man wakes up and has an idea of what to do. He strides purposefully over to the barn and opens the door… and screams in horror once again. The rooster is standing in the midst of a pile of animal carcasses, looking insanely triumphant. All the cows, pigs, and horses are dead, blood trickling out of their nether regions. “No!” shouts the man, searching around the barn for what he needs. He finds a chain with a spike on one end and a metal collar on the other. Grabbing the chain and the rooster, the man angrily marches out into his pasture, far away from any other beasts. He claps the metal collar around the rooster’s neck, hammers the spike deep into the ground, and stomps away, growling, “That’ll teach you to fuck my animals to death!”

The next day, the man tromps back out to where the rooster is… and as he nears the rooster, he sees that it’s still on its chain, but it’s dead. Its eyes are closed, and its tongue is hanging out of its open beak.

“What in God’s name happened here?” the man blurts out. He approaches the rooster carefully, having seen his share of horror movies. The rooster doesn’t move; it really seems dead. The man gets right up to it. He stares down at the carcass.

One of the rooster’s eyes pops open.

“Sshh,” says the rooster, pointing at the sky with a sly wingtip. “Buzzards.”