True Story continued

It so seems that my first date with Mr. M has had a whole lot of people laughing. Good, I'm pleased, laughing is always welcome, it does a lot for keeping a healthy heart. But all this interest has made me remember yet a second date. Why, would you ask, would on earth have been a second date? I'm not sure I can answer that, pity perhaps, compassion, wanting to do something good so as to clock some heavenly miles in the eyes of that Higher Power. Or perhaps I was stark raving mad. Either one is possible. But I found myself yet again not in the arms of Mr. M, but sitting across the same table. Again. I take the blame entirely. But I thought he would behave this time, and it happened to be a totally on my own Saturday, so why not make Mr. M happy? Ok I'm trying to make excuses. The sad fact is that I gave in to the pleading because I didn't have any more words. And so the conversation turned to Easter. Quite innocent you might think. Or perhaps not. Easter is one feast which I hate which a vengeance. Nothing about Easter interests me in the least, to top that, I hate it. I hate the pre-Easter, I don't want to see all the blood and gore and i do not want to hear the same story about an innocent man/God being tortured. It makes my insides churn, makes me terribly unhappy, and it doesn't solve anything. But, the talk turned to Easter, or specifically to Good Friday. Now I have never ever understood what is good about the Friday when people were allowed to run riot and treat a good man with such cruelty. But they still call it Good Friday. It sucks. It should be called a Horrible terrible Friday. But then I am not the Pope, never will be for many reasons. I am way too young, I don't like wearing skirts that much, that little purple hat would never fit on my hair and no I would never shave it just to have a purple thingy on my head. Add to that, I do not have the right equipment below and above the waist. So no papal celebrations looming up for me. Anyway, turns out Mr. M was keen on wearing a skirt, and no he wasn't/isn't gay. Mr. M decided to divulge his little secret with me. Why oh why do people confide in me their little secrets as if I have Caritas written all over my face? I have no idea. But Mr. M's secret was coming out, and not out of the closet. Turned out he liked the damn Good Friday so much that he was dressing up for it, which meant undressing for it. Because, he continued, he had this LM800 dress (he actually said that) which he wore for the occasion. And I was thinking, not even a wedding dress would cost me that much. Aha, but this was no wedding dress, this was a Roman dress so short that he'd be flaunting his thighs, his arms, his legs and his feet. That, he explained, was the reason he'd been growing a beard. Ok, then facial hair = Freud = I think not. I must say I wasn't very amused but whatever, it was his life after all and if he liked baring it all on Good Friday then he could do whatever he liked. Then came the bombshell. Seeing Good Friday was coming early in the year, it was going to be too cold for such a dress. Fine, thought I, then don't dress up. No, that wasn't on. Seeing he would be getting cold, he would be dying for a pee. If someone had captured my expression on film there and then he'd have won an Oscar. Mr. M continued, and seeing his bladder would become desperate quite a few times, then would I kindly accompany him on his loo trips, just to lift the LM800 dress up so he could do his business? Silence. What the hell? He wasn't kidding. And neither was I. And yet another question popped up in my loony brain. Did I look that desperate? I instinctively took a look at a mirror, no way Jose`, I looked like a lady, and ladies do no lift dresses for dressed up Romans to pee. Because had I lived in the Roman world I would have been no servant, but rather a Roman Goddess. So there was never a risk on getting splashed on by Mr. M, Good Friday or Bad. He probably found some other female replacement, very close to home. His home. End of the chapter. And as I write I am fully aware that this is going onto the world wide web so Mr. M could have access to it. I haven't even bothered to change the initials. Good, I hope he reads it, so perhaps he can learn how to treat a lady. But it doesn't stop here with Mr. M. More to come....