12/10/1999

Ha! Wow! I know I haven’t written anything in a long time, but school has been all work and no play. But today was a great day!

Fun stuff first:

Lawrence hands me a set of beeswax candles: “A pre-Christmas present.”

Hi! Thanks! Yum!

“And, if you’re not busy during your fifth period spare, would you care to join me for a coffee?”

Hello! Yes! Of course!

Not so fun stuff:

When Lawrence and I headed to his car after fourth period, we weren’t the only ones in the parking lot. Mr. Dupont was out there, too, and he walked over as Lawrence turned the key in the ignition. He tapped on the window, and when Lawrence rolled it down, he asked, “Do you have written permission to escort a student off school premises?”

Lawrence sort of laughed in a way that I knew he felt awkward and ashamed. He said, “Uhh… no…”

Mr. Dupont didn’t let up. He said something about how teachers needed parental permission to take students off school grounds because the board of education could be sued if anything happened to me. But how stupid is that? It’s not like I’m a child. I’m a legal adult. Maybe Mr. Dupont didn’t know I’m eighteen. I don’t need parental permission to do anything.

I don’t remember what Lawrence said after that. My head started throbbing and I honestly thought I was going to cry. It was so humiliating.

But somehow the issue was resolved. I think Lawrence basically just said, “Thanks for the heads-up” or something like that, and drove away with me in the passenger seat. We didn’t talk about it at all. Far too embarrassing. What a blow to our egos. Thanks a lot, Mr. Dupont.

Better stuff:

As Lawrence parked on one of the side streets around Hazelton Lanes, I was applying Cinnamon Sugar Lipsmackers. I asked him if he wanted some (just being polite; expected him to say no) and he said sure! We browsed for a while at L’Atelier Grigorian, and after that went to buy the coffee he’d promised me. When the coffee woman asked, if he wanted cinnamon on his Café-au-Lait, he responded, “Please! It’ll match my lipstick.”

How amused was I?

Alright, so now for the good stuff that has Giselle on an enormous power-trip:

He thanked me for giving him the rest of my half (the smaller one, at that) of the almond croissant we shared. My response was, “You paid for it. [nota bene: I never offer to pay for anything.] It can get expensive to keep a mistress.”

Oh, he came this close to spitting out his coffee, but then he laughed: “I’m not sure we’re quite there.”

I know—I’m sure—that he did not say “yet,” but I distinctly heard it anyway, almost as though it had been implied.

At any rate, he followed that up by saying, “Yes, I can see how it could. I once knew a man who was revered because he could go to dinner parties with his wife on one arm and his mistress on the other.”

“Well, isn’t that ideal?” I asked.

I don’t think he even realized that he said, “Yeah.”

To follow were a couple more stories about mistresses. Hey—that was easy.

This stuff’s even better, though:

We were in the car and I inquired as to whether or not he would lie about his whereabouts when he got home.

“No, I don’t have to lie,” said he.

(Damn, thought I.)

He then inquired as to whether or not I had to lie.

Umm, hi, YES! What do you think?

“Oh, well that makes me [him] a bit uncomfortable. (I wish you didn’t have to, etc.)”

That makes him uncomfortable? HA!

“So, then, your wife really doesn’t mind that you’re out with a beautiful woman?”

Oh, that deserved at least a giggle, but instead yielded: “Well, I don’t think she really knows… but I don’t think she doesn’t not know.”

(?)

“What does that mean?” (I honestly didn’t get it.)

“It means that if she knew, she’d mind.”

“Good then, (oops—I said that out loud, didn’t I?) that’s all I need to know.”

I had such a great time. When we walked into Hazelton Lanes, a string quartet was performing right there in the atrium. This man has been treating me like a goddess. I’m not even joking. It’s because I ignored him for a month, I suspect.

Throughout November, I didn’t care to make time for him, and he didn’t really have time for me. Result? Separation anxiety! My God, he is absolutely worshipping the ground I walk on! This is amazing! Even in our little café, when I was seated upon my cushiony bench thing and leaning against the wall, I felt like an odalisque being admired.

He kept asking me about music and art, saying, “Oh, I don’t know anything [and you know all—share with me your abundant knowledge, Oh Goddess Giselle! (I am not worthy)].”

So, you can see why this might have me on a bit of a power trip. Yes, I’ve called myself on it, but I really don’t care.

It’s incredible to look at how this relationship has evolved. We [I] have introduced a new element: sexual tension. Oh, it only happens once in a while. I wonder if it’s something that he is aware of. I really think it is. Today, I touched his arm—immediate lower-chakra energy-flow!

Oh no! Fight it! Divert eyes! Breathe!

Giselle