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Greener Grass

December 29th, 2010 § 14 comments § permalink

In my last post, I mentioned in a footnote that probably my favorite way to see The Attorney dressed is in a sweat shirt and basketball shorts.  Prolific blogger1 Kenneth in the (212) commented on that footnote that the “grass is always greener.”

There is some truth to that.

The Attorney is always dressed up in a suit.  It’s his uniform.2  Business clothes are his thing on a daily basis.  So to see my dressed up guy dressed down  is a treat for me.

He’s always conscious of the fact that, in public, he could run into a client or potential client anywhere. So he feels obligated to always look the part of the successful attorney.  Even at his most casual, you’d find him in good jeans or khakis and a polo shirt.3

But, when he is all suited up a  little wall sort of goes up between us.

One that I tend to put up.  Not him.

Actually my feelings, desires, and attraction to The Attorney do not change with his clothing.  So, to say a wall goes up is a little bit extreme.  It’s more of a velvet rope keeping the fine art out of reach.

Maybe his work gear reminds me of the differences in our station and education and I feel intimidated.  Or maybe it’s simply that I don’t feel like I can wallow around with him on the sofa without worrying about the crease in his slacks or the starch of his shirt.  But his suits become an armor that somewhat puts me at arms length.

And when the armor comes off, the rope comes down.

But  the best part?  I sort of get to be the curator.  I’m the only one who ever really gets to see him this way.

I get to experience a side of  The Attorney that no one else does.

The greener side.

{ fin }

  1. and all around great guy []
  2. Thankfully I didn’t fall for Ronald McDonald, because I’m not feeling striped socks and a yellow jumpsuit. []
  3. What I call his Father’s Day clothes. []

Best Laid Plans

December 27th, 2010 § 14 comments § permalink

It was the first time I wore my suit in months.

This particular one had originally been one of The Attorney’s suits, but a couple of years ago, we had it altered to fit me. We are about the same size up top, so the jacket was a pretty close fit. But he is two inches taller than me, and most of his height is in beautifully long his legs1, where I’m more torso than legs, so the pants had to be altered.

As suits go, it is a very nice one. It’s certainly the kind of suit that I would have never bought myself, simply because I imagine paying what he probably did for it.2 But, still, I hate wearing suits. I just don’t feel natural in them. But, I knew the Attorney would be in a suit for our Christmas Eve dinner.

When I got to his house, just before dark, he re-tied my tie. I’m terrible at it. But I knew that if I just let it go instead of fighting with it, his OCD would not let me leave the house without a perfect knot.

Once everything was to The Attorney’s satisfaction, we hopped in his SUV and headed downtown. The plan had been to take his sports car, but snow and ice was predicted for later in the evening.

That was the first thing that didn’t go as planned.

The next wrench in the plans was the restaurant itself. We arrived to an empty parking lot. They were closed for dinner on Christmas Eve.

Fail.

The Attorney flexed and unflexed his fingers on the steering wheel as we sat in silence outside the place. The only sound was the car idling. Then his forehead dropped to the steering wheel.

“Oh, Tony. I am so sorry.”

He was devastated.

I reached over and rubbed his back, then squeezed his shoulder near his neck.  “It’s okay.”

“I was sure they were open tonight,”  he said.  “I should have called.  I spoiled everything.”  He was concerned that given the restaurant is closing at the end of this week, I was missing out on the experience of eating there.

It made me sad.  Not that the restaurant was closed.  It was sad seeing him get so worked up with guilt and heaping blame on himself for a simple mistake.  I’d never known him to be like that before.

I told him that it’s really not that big a deal.  We could still spend the evening together, so the best part was not spoiled.

We figured that no place else nice was going to be open, and I’d just as soon hang out at his house.  So, we headed home to get comfortable and order a pizza.

Then the next wrench dropped.

All the pizza places that delivered to his neighborhood had closed at 6PM.

So had the grocery stores.3

About our only options were: junk food from convenience stores; finding a McDonald’s along the Interstate open for holiday travelers; or raiding his kitchen.

We picked the last option and with a package of tuna, sliced bread, and cheese, we made ourselves tuna melts.

The food probably wasn’t as good as we would have had if everything worked out, but in a lot of ways hanging with him in his kitchen in comfortable clothes 4 was a much nicer atmosphere.

But, he has decided we are going to try it again.

On New Year’s Eve.

This time he is making reservations.

{ fin }

  1. I sometimes joke that he has showgirl legs []
  2. Even though I understand that he has fulfill the image of the successful attorney []
  3. Wrench #4. []
  4. He was in a sweatshirt and basketball shorts, which is actually my favorite thing to see him in. []

Sweet As Red Velvet

December 22nd, 2010 § 30 comments § permalink

The Attorney and I will be having our first real “date” night in a long time this week.

Unless you count last Friday when we tried ice skating.  I’m not counting it because I was really bad at it1 and it lasted less than an hour.

There is a restaurant down in Knoxville that is closing  at the end of the year after something like 90 years in business. 2 It’s one of the more expensive places in town and somewhere people often go to to celebrate  important events and special occasion dinners.  It’s also a place where many a business deal or power lunch has been held.

Naturally the Attorney, like most of his colleagues, is well-known there.  My grandparents spent many an anniversary dinner there.  Basically everyone in East Tennessee has eaten there.

Except me.

The Attorney couldn’t believe that I have never been there.  The place is that much an institution.

“We’re going to have dinner there Christmas Eve,” he decided on the spot, giving me an early Christmas present.

I told Granny about it.  About the restaurant closing its doors and The Attorney and I going for dinner before it does.  I was kind of feeling her out to see if she might want to go, since the place held special memories for her.

The memories did come flooding back.  She was thrilled that we were going, but showed no interest in tagging along.

“Be sure to have a slice of the red velvet cake,” she instructed, knowing we share a sweet tooth.  “They are famous for it.”

Then suddenly she lit up like the Christmas tree The Attorney put up for her last weekend.

“Do you think he’s going to ask you something special?” she said to me, barely able to contain herself.

Even though I knew where she was going, I asked her just what was she talking about.

Like offering an odd blessing she said, “They have passed that law now.  I saw it on TV.  You can do that now.”

Rather than go into an explanation that I was sure that The Attorney had no intention of proposing marriage, I tried to clear up her confusion about “that law.”

“Granny, that’s the military.  Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”

I don’t know what she heard in her head, or what her brain was telling her to say, but what came out was a plain straight-forward, “Okay.  I won’t tell anyone.”

It cracked me up. It was the sweetest, funniest thing I have heard in a while.

I won’t tell her I’m bringing her back a slice of the Red Velvet Cake.

{ fin }

  1. He was only slightly better. []
  2. It’s been around almost as along as Granny. []

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