Project PANDORA: The Other Woman
At the end of November, I saw The Loose Ties at Woobie's Bar & Nightlife, a watering hole in Flint proper. (Wayback Machinelink.) As The Cowgirl was (and still is) dating Ska Army, a member of The Loose Ties, I was able to to get the whole gang to come with me to a ska show. (Alas, they weren't there because I'd successfully opened their ears to the manifold glories of ska.) Because our little Econ Club-centered gang is chockablock with so many cool people, The Cowgirl decided to invite her sad sack friend, whom we shall refer to as the Other Woman, to join us. I'm not picking on the Other Woman, The Cowgirl herself described her as a little depressed and with friends in short supply. The Other Woman arrived when The Loose Ties were playing; so, The Cowgirl had to shout during our introduction. I greeted the Other Woman and made one or two of my usual witticisms, but over the music we couldn't really talk. The Cowgirl took the Other Woman back to our table, and I went back to dividing my time between skanking in front of the band (Woobie's doesn't sport a proper dance floor; so, I skank wherever I can find room) and flirting with The Impossible Ingenue around the pool table.

Toward the end of the evening, The Cowgirl sent me a text message stating that the Other Woman had a crush on me. Well, how about that? Still very much smitten with The Impossible Ingenue, I was uncertain how to proceed, but was let off the hook when The Cowgirl and the Other Woman soon departed. The dilemma I faced was this: a slow and steady campaign of friendship and flirting was (and remains) the way to The Ingenue's heart, but could I pass up the opportunity presented by the Other Woman? I did not know her at all, certainly not well enough to have any feelings for her, but she was openly attracted to me. There it was, one of the hardest parts of Project PANDORA, attracting the attention and nascent affection of a girl, already taken care of for me. The opportunity was simply too good to pass up. My discussions with Mrs. Skeeter, Esq. were especially helpful at this juncture, and I am grateful to her for her ability to cut through the rubbish to the heart of a problem. So, I was resolved to explore the potential of a relationship with the Other Woman, and to that end we began interacting through the FaceSpace. What was to be my next move?

Once again, no action on my part was required. A week and a day after the Saturday night of ska at Woobie's, the Other Woman turned 21. She celebrated as everyone turning 21 does and should, by going to the bar. Now, because of her aforementioned dearth of friends, the gang was invited, all of us but The Cowgirl having only met the Other Woman just once. Because the Other Woman is a theatre person, we went to Pachyderm, a gay bar (I've nothing against the gay bar, that's just a completely accurate description of what Pachyderm is, a gay bar). Four of us met the Other Woman's party of four: Ska Army, who is curiously socially conservative for a heathen (atheist), clung to The Cowgirl in terror; The Most Dangerous Game was relentlessly hit on by the Other Woman's older sister and another girl whose name I never caught; my assignment for the evening was to be the Other Woman's fellow; and a chap named Kevin was friendly enough, but saddened that his boyfriend, also named Kevin, had not been able to attend. Throughout the evening everyone bought the Other Woman drinks, and I sat with my arm around her, gradually migrating from her shoulder to her waist. I was funny, she was funny, and she looked at me with desire so obvious that even I—blind, foolish I—couldn't miss it.

When at last the evening came to an end, we all walked out to the parking lot and began to disperse to our vehicles. When I was talking to The Most Dangerous Game and Ska Army, The Cowgirl came up from behind and tapped me on the shoulder. With alcohol-fueled mischief in her eyes, she said, "Sammy wants to say goodnight to you." I walked over to the Other Woman, standing a few yards from the rest of the group, and unseen behind me everyone else retreated to the far side of Ska Army's hideous Honda Element. Without preamble, the Other Woman and I kissed. Not a peck, we threw our faces together with considerable gusto. Treasured readers, it had been literally years since I had shared a romantic kiss, and I welcomed back the old thrill with much rejoicing. Yet for a beggar I remained remarkably choosy, and from some distant, dusty corner of my head an unbidden voice compared the Other Woman's efforts with other kisses I've enjoyed, and found her skills lacking. The majority of my mind gave this killjoy the old heave ho, and the Other Woman and I continued sucking face. I let my hands fall from her shoulders down to her arse, and pulled her in close. I pulled my face away, as I am wont to do in such instances, because I wished to look into her eyes for a spell, but after only a moment she dove back in and we resumed as before.

After a pleasant interval, she took a gulp of air and said she had to go. I continued to kiss her and she returned the favor. Again, she took a gulp of air and said she had to go. I released my grip, but persisted with my lips, as did she. A third time she said she had to go and this time we parted; she scurried to her sister's waiting motorcar and I strolled over to the Element. I got home in the middle of the night and, as I had a PowerPoint presentation that would constitute a considerable part of my grade due the next afternoon, decided to pull an all-nighter. As I worked, my idle thoughts were quite naturally dominated by the Other Woman, pleasing reflections on the night just past and cheery speculations on the nights to follow. I began to scheme for our first formal date, an event I considered to be an inevitability.

To be continued…