
I suppose I’ll call my new pirate-lover “Spooky” for now for reasons that might become apparent later, or not. Maybe I’ll just call him The Captain.
It was our second lunch together. Or was it our first dinner? It’s all a blur so consider this a composite of several conversations that took place over a matter of days at the same restaurant, at the same corner table, with the same server. I think most of it might have taken place on our first date-date, meaning the first meal after which I let him pick up the check. I should really ask him because he remembers everything, including dates, times, sequencing, what I was wearing, and what color my hair was on any given day. Spooky has a very interesting mind: He remembers every conversation we ever had during those years when we were playing shy googley-eyes. There were two of them.
There went his baritone voice again.”So what are you looking for?”
I raised an eyebrow and shook my head a little. Honestly at that point I wasn’t sure if he was trying to woo me, or sent by his spooky buddies to either hire or kill me. “Do you mean like something on the menu? A new, fulfilling career? A million dollars? The perfect pair of black elastic waist pants?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, from a relationship. What do you want?”
“Ah. Well, I don’t want to be married again. I’d be happy with reliable weekend companionship and a good sex life.” I took a sip of my tea and winked at him.
He hesitated “. . . I suppose I could give you that. We don’t have to get married if you don’t want to. There are other arrangements.” He shrugged.
Other arrangements, I thought. Maybe it was time to turn the tables before things got weird. “What do YOU want?”
“You.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. “No, really.”
“No. Really.”
“You don’t even KNOW me.”
“Oh, I know you.” He shook his head and smiled. “I know allllll about you.”
“OK that scares me. Staring at me for ten years and asking people about me means you know about as much about me as a stalker would.”
He laughed, hard, as if it were the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Try me: What else do you think I need to know?”
“I have four cats. I’m the crazy cat lady!”
“I love cats. Cats love me. I have one. And I’m not allergic.”

I thought, well OK, on to the annoying food issues. “I don’t eat wheat and I don’t drink milk. I have a lot of food sensitivities.”
“Me too. I don’t eat wheat either. Celiac?”
I shook my head. “Shut up. You’re making this up. You’re mirroring me, aren’t you.”
He grinned. “No I’m not. I don’t drink milk either.”
“Fine. OK. Here’s something else: I’m super-duper shy. You’d have to do all the work when it came to our social life.”
“No worries with that. I know people all over the country. If you’re with me you’re in, and you are protected. And since I’m full-blooded Sicilian you’re really really really protected if ya know what I mean.” He did a little eyebrow dance and I giggled.

Everywhere Spook goes a posse shows up
“I’m really stubborn.”
Spooky shrugged. “So you’re a Taurus. My mother is a Taurus.”
He was gonna play hardball so I threw him a curve.”I have really bad PMS.”
His turn to roll his eyes. “What woman doesn’t?”
“No. I mean really really really bad. Put me in a hospital bad. Suicidal thoughts bad. Hardcore antidepressants bad.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, that’s just . . . That’s just really awful, I’m sorry. Just tell me what to do that week. You want me to go away? I’ll go away. But I’ll always come back. Just tell me what to do and we’ll get through it. Trust me on this: I know people. You have no idea. I can get you an appointment to see the best doctors in the country in three days.” His face turned very serious as he leaned towards me and said in a very low voice: “I want you to listen. Three. Days. I need you to get me. Are you listening to me?”
“Yes.”
“OK then. So what else ya got?”
“Did your spooky buddies slip you a mickey as a practical joke?”
“No. But I’d thank them if they did.”
I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “I’m psychic. You will NEVER get away with ANYTHING.”
“So am I. Nobody gets away with anything with me either. At least, not for long.” His eyes widened and he nodded. “Not you, not anyone who works for me or with me. Not anyone. Trust me on this. I have stories you would not believe. You have no idea.”
“OK then. How about this: I AM BALD. I shave my head!”
He looked sad. “I know. I watched it fall out. I really don’t care, although I know you do.”
I sighed. This was nuts. It I took a deep breath and said “Well! then I suppose there is no point in waiting. We have to get married.” That will shut him up for sure, I thought.
He nodded, slowly. “You just tell me when it’s time to go shopping for the ring.”
Exasperated, I planted my face on the table. Fortunately the food had not yet arrived. This was not real. In fact I suspected it was an elaborate put-on. “OK. This is a practical joke, right? Either that or you’ve been sent by the NSA to either hire me, or kill me.” I leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Did I fly too close to the sun? Do I at least get a choice?”
“No, you haven’t flown too close to the sun and your wings aren’t gonna melt. I’ve done my time. That part of my life is over. This is strictly personal.”
“Whew.”
“But that exploding car CAN be arranged.”