Second Life - Part Four

Yes, I know. My story is a bit wooden. Pardon the pun. I’ve tried to take as much emotion out of it, and it looks like I may have succeeded.  I keep hearing the Universe “tell your story with love” – “let love be in your heart” –

Uh huh, cause that’s what they were thinking of. Whoever it was, that decided I would be their fall girl. "We want you to die … with love."

Anyhoo, back to the story.

I met up with Parker the next day, to get some answers. I brought my girlfriends with and we browsed the Saturday Market for a while, dragging Parker with us. I kept trying to ask questions, but he was pretty good at dodging them.  He told me he was a cop.

“Ooh, like a ‘Marshall?’”

Parker smiled. Marshall was what I suspected his avatar name was in Second Life.  But he didn’t admit to anything. Other than he was “separated” from his wife, but still lived with her, the only thing I learned was that he liked to work out.

He carried his workout bag wherever he went.

It should have been a sign. 

He recommended a little bar over on Hawthorne, but before going, we browsed some retro shops and a head shop, that he called a “420.”

“Do you know what a 420 is?”

“No, what is it?”  (I swear to God I didn’t.)

He explained. 

So we get to the little bar, and the bartender comes over and we order.  Parker and the bartender nod at each other, so I asked Parker

“You guys know each other?”

“Yes, this is my beat.”

“Ah. Okay.”

Made sense.  I told him about my step-dad, and how he was a cop for 35 years before retiring.  I wanted to ask more, but not with my friends there.

About half way through our drinks, I start cozying up to Parker, and he nods toward the bathroom.  I shake my head, but he gets up anyway and heads out the back door.

I roll my eyes at my friends and then follow him out the back, where he and I have a full on snog fest for about three minutes, before I break away to get back to the table.

The girls were busy chatting with the bartender when I got back, and I take a couple more sips of my wine before I look back and see him entering the bathroom – waving me over.

By this time, I’m feeling AWESOME.  Seriously enamoured. So I go.

It was pretty hot and heavy. I’m only holding off on the details, because of how FUCKING PISSED OFF I GOT WHEN I SAW THE CAMERA IN HIS DUFFEL BAG.

I couldn’t believe it.  I felt like I was fucking 19 years old again.  I didn’t like it.

I pretty much clammed up the rest of the day, and the rest of the weekend. Wondering what had just happened.  I agreed to be his Facebook friend, but only to get more information.

His profile tagline: “Sometimes alcohol IS the answer” was all I needed to declare war.  On Second Life. On my husband.  On my job.  On my graduate program.

The first battle started when I got home.  With my husband.

I only say this with “Love” – of course.

 

 

More Like This

Recent Posts by womantrek

Comments

In order to comment on BlogHer.com, you'll need to be logged in. You'll be given the option to log in or create an account when you publish your comment. If you do not log in or create an account, your comment will not be displayed.