I had no idea the power I have over men other than my husband until this morning, when I retrieved five voice mails on my cell phone. They were from Robin who identified herself as the "partner and fiance" of D**. She wanted to know why my phone number was on their caller ID and why D** had called me. She knew what city I live in. She wanted me to call her back.
It took me a few moments (senior moments, that is) to remember who D** was. And no, it's not because I had drunk so much I blacked out or had such a wild night that I couldn't remember which one D** was. Those days are a good thirty-five years in the past, and even then, I was never that wild and crazy. It took me a while to remember because, believe it or not Robin, I'm approaching sixty faster than I would like (and I'm not talking about speed limits, honey).
And then I remembered. Last week, I had gone up to our get-away place in the Pocono mountains and had needed to have our driveway plowed so I could actually get in the house. D** was one of the numbers given to me by the office personel who keep a list of people who do various jobs up there. I called, left a message, he called back about five hours later, I said Forget it, no problem, I had parked by the lake and walked a mile back to the house. We talked for a couple of minutes about how deep and hard the ice in the driveway was, and how it held his weight, 200 pounds that he is. That was it. That was as personal as it got. Or so I thought. Robin obviously thinks it was more than that. I'm going to be looking over my shoulder for a while in case she heads south.
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