April 15, 2008

The four words no man likes to hear.

By Dr. Bud E. Bryan

Austin, Texas. Well, after surviving Spring Break week and the entertaining visit by Jolene's niece and her Teen Queen pal (thanks for the sympathy emails from out there guys, I appreciate it), things were settling back to normal down here, or at least so I thought.

I was going about my business last week, which consisted of: 1. Checking out smokin' hot ESPN sideline reporter Erin Andrews on YouTube (even a guy in USA Today commented about the phenomenon in today's paper, so I'm glad it's not just me). 2. Falling asleep toward the end of the NASCAR race from Phoenix out of sheer boredom. 3. Watching the MotoGP last Sunday. 4. Working on my Spring "Honey Do" list from Jolene, which seems to be growing exponentially by the minute. 5. Avoiding writing my column until the last minute (or not writing it at all - ed.). 6. Reading endless stuff about the NFL draft. 7. And helping Jolene find a new car. Now, among all that was drinks with my buddy Tom one night, which didn't get out of hand, and which our respective spouses were quite pleased about, given our history. Plus more work on my book. Plus a bunch of other stuff not worth mentioning...

The car thing is worth mentioning, however. Jolene had been driving a 3 series BMW wagon, but she was sick of the wagon thing, and so we embarked on "the process" of finding her a new car. Now, the way we usually do it is I start mentioning things to her about certain cars, or she'll hear Peter and me talkin' about cars, or she'll comment on a car commercial or a magazine ad that she noticed. Then there's seeing cars on the road, the occasional dealer lot "drive-bys," etc., etc. So after a couple months of that she had narrowed her choice down to a.) another BMW, b.) the new Cadillac CTS, or c.) the Honda Fit. A Porsche Boxster was on the list but only as a fantasy pick (she's always wanted one but she decided not this time). The first two finalists were fairly understandable, with the BMW being her pick, the CTS being my pick and the Honda Fit being "our" alternative pick.

We then checked them all out. The 3 Series was her first choice, but she was interested in a Coupe this time. I then got her to seriously check out the CTS, and she really liked the car, so it was a strong contender (she likes that commercial too). And the Fit was my off-the-wall suggestion for something fun in the urban environment, and she surprised me by sparking to the idea and actually taking the time to drive one and thoroughly giving it strong consideration. She even encountered a professional sales guy at the Honda dealer who didn't do or say anything stupid in her presence, which pleased her to no end.

But after all that she gravitated back to where her heart was - which was with another BMW - and she ended up with a 328i Coupe (white with black interior), with the CTS running a very close second and the Fit gaining a huge measure of respect for being the fine small car that it is. But I will add this, when I showed her pictures of the upcoming CTS Coupe she said flatly, "That will be my next car." So, all in all, the whole deal went down pretty well. She's happy and the car drives great, so, it's all good.

But then, when I went down to put some gas in her car for the first time the other morning, something crazy happened...

I was minding my own business, while watching the total for the gas climb skyward on the pump, when I heard a very familiar voice say, "Well, well, well, if it isn't the infamous Dr. Bud. E. Bryan."

I knew that voice well. Oh, did I ever. It was my almost ex-wife, the girl who spun my head around and could still do it if she set her mind to it, the girl who damn near killed me, the girl I left Jolene for - you get the picture - yes, it was the One and Only Nadine.

I slowly turned around, not knowing exactly what to expect, only to find her standing two feet away from me, with that megawatt smile of her's all aglow. She didn't even give me time to react before she wrapped her arms around me while flipping her sunglasses up on top of her fiery red mane, and proceeded to kiss me like she was Homecoming Queen and I was Homecoming King - and the whole school was watchin'.

"Hey, Baby" she said, almost whispering.
 
And in that instant it all came rushing back to me. Those eyes. Her smell. Those incredible lips. In the vernacular of today, all I could think of is OMG, WTF am I doing here at a Mobil station, kissing my ex-girlfriend?

A very weak-kneed and feeble "hey" was all I could muster, as she held me like I had been away at sea for a year. I started to break free from her grip so I could at least get a look at her from head to toe, but she would have none of it.

"Oh, come on, Bud, one more for old time's sake, it won't kill you."

I wasn't so sure about that. The act may not kill me per se, but the whole shit storm afterward definitely could. But it was too late, we completed our second kiss, the kind that was a little too long if you know what I mean, the kind that only two people who have been through Hell and back with each other can understand, the kind that either leads to serious, adult-type fun stuff, or divorce court - whichever way the wind is blowing.

Too hot for daytime TV, in other words.

I gathered it up, broke free of her grip and pushed her away - so I could at least catch my breath - and I stood back to have a look at her while she refused to let go of my hands.

This was the Country Club Nadine persona as opposed to the Hot Tart persona. She had on an extremely tight black pencil skirt, a nicely refined but very sexy mint green designer top (with cleavage of course), dazzling but understated diamond earrings and pair of naughty black CFM pumps on that could wake a dead man.

"My, don't you look like the perfect little Country Club Trophy wife!" I said, not knowing what else I could say.

She let go of my hands and did a little twirl and coquettish bend at the knee for me, sticking her butt out at the end while touching her lips with one index finger. Frickin' unbelievable is all I could think. Just then I noticed this old guy out of the corner of my eye at the pump across the way, his mouth was hanging open as big as a double-wide, and his eyes were about to pop clean out of his head.

"Well, Nadine, you look fantastic, that's for sure..."

"Well thank you, Bud. I'm glad someone at least notices."

"Oh come on, Nadine. I've watched three guys walk back to their cars just about doing an exorcist swivel move with their heads just to check your ass out. You still got it."

"Yeah, well Charles sure doesn't notice, and seein' as he's allegedly my husband and all, that can be a bit of a problem."

With that, she marched right back up to me, pulled me up close to her again and then laid another toe-curling kiss on me.

"I'm glad I still turn your head, Bud. I always loved the way you looked at me."

Now, seein' as my gas stopped pumping five minutes ago, it occurred to me that this was probably goin' nowhere good and that it was time for me to extricate my ass from the situation.

"You definitely still turn my head, Nadine, but you know, I really should be going. It was really great to see you though."

I gave her one of those quick maintenance kisses that people who have been together do just to cover things, and then tried to go back to what I was doing, but she would have none of it.

"Whoa. What the hell was that? Uh-uh, Bud. Get back here."

"Look Nadine, I gots to go..."

She wrapped her whole body around me this time and pressed me up against my car - a move she has done with great relish in the past - and then finished me off with a kiss that made me see stars. No shit.

"Now, Bud, that's more like it. I'm gonna email you when I get home. We need to talk."

With that, she turned on those breathtaking heels, and slinked away from me like a cat walking a tight rope over a hot skillet. She got in her Mercedes and peeled out of the gas station knowing full well I would watch her fade off in the distance until she was a speck on the damn horizon.

"We need to talk?" I said to myself. OMG is right.

I spent the rest of the morning in a daze. I stopped at a coffee shop because my knees wouldn't stop shaking, not that I needed any caffeine at that point, but I was afraid I smelled like Nadine and I just couldn't go home and have Jolene notice. I drove around a little more and then returned, only to have Jolene breeze right past me on her way out the door, because she was late meeting Annie for lunch. There was a fleeting directional air kiss exchanged and she was off.

I went inside and just sat in my office in a stupor, staring at my computer screen as it refreshed endlessly on its own.

"We need to talk."

The four words no man likes to hear - I don't care how old you are, how married, how single, or how many cumulative man-woman experiences you've had - those words bring a chill to a man's soul.

I'll add two more words to this whole dang rodeo: Not Good.

To be continued...