Lou Milner - Sunday Morning Clues

Sunday

Morning

Clues

by Lou Milner

It was one of those great weekend mornings when Wynnie rose late, didn't bother to dress, brewed some chai, and picked up the Sunday Sun for an hour's read.

Page one featured the usual babe with boobs (Queen Elizabeth) and was followed by a Fitness World advertorial illustrating the joys of losing 348 pounds on the stationary step, pages of quasi news, pseudo editorials, colored comics, and "My God!" the man of her dreams.

She'd seen him before. But where? Possibly The Lighting Store. After all, it was an ad for The Lighting Store. But she'd never been to The Lighting Store. Was he patron or staff? She hoped not staff because she could never fall in love with a lighting salesman, even if he were the man of her dreams. Her ideal man did look like this guy, who was obviously a model: tall (at least he looked tall compared to the coffee table), dark (but who can really tell with a black and white photo), dimpled, and tidy. And, although this couldn't be discerned from the photo, her dream guy was also confident, smart, deep-voiced, wrinkle-free, hirsute, smokeless, athletic, attentive, kind, generous, wealthy, beetle-browed (because nobody's perfect), and a superb lover.

Perhaps she would find him in the Personals. A quick scan revealed no matches. There was one, though, that sounded interesting:

"I'm not a neat freak but I like things to be clean and orderly; I play a nasty game of bridge but I'm not much of a challenge on the squash courts. My favorite dinner starts with a glass of Scotch, is followed by a Caesar salad, a steaming bowl of mussels in a wine broth, a small plate of linguini carbonara washed down with a nice glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, and followed by a chocolate-anything dessert (two forks) and an espresso--not a decaffeinated cappuccino. A suitable friend and possibly romantic partner would be someone who doesn't like chatting chirpily upon springing out of bed in the morning, who knows what hangers are for, who doesn't mind winning on the courts, and who is not afraid to eatChildren who have good table manners are welcome to join us."

Eat children! She was alarmed. Closer inspection revealed that she had simply read the ad incorrectly. It actually said "…who is not afraid to eat.(period, space) Children who have…" But it was too late, she could not shake the image of this child-eating monster. Sadly, Wynnie would not be responding to the ad. Besides, even if he didn't eat children, there was entirely too much emphasis on food and drink and he was undoubtedly a fat, slothful alcoholic. She knew that if he'd only lose a little weight and stay away from the booze, he'd do better on the squash courts. But how do you tell someone that?

She was, however, inspired enough by his ad to think about placing one of her own. It would go something like this:

I'm a bear at sunrise, but by sunset I'm a playful little cub. I try to stay out of the rain because my hair goes crazy when it gets wet and I don't have a fireplace to sit beside when I need to dry out and warm up. I'm looking for somebody who does have a fireplace and is not afraid to use it. But please, no bear rugs or dead-animal heads above the hearth.

Wait a minute. A fireplace? That would inevitably mean suburbia. And the burbs were definitely not an option. Hey, what happened to wealthy? Wealthy people can have fireplaces and live in the city. But was this what she really wanted? No matter, her reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"I'm not dressed. Who is it?" she shouted.

"It's me, Kasim," responded her landlord.

Wynnie threw a robe on over her thigh-length hockey jersey and went to the door. "Hi Kasim," she said, before he had a chance to state the reason for his presence, "Would it be too gauche to say in a personal ad 'looking for a wealthy, good looking guy?'"

"Wynnie, Wynnie, Wynnie," said Kasim, following her to the kitchen table where the news and notepaper lay. "What wealthy, good-looking guy is searching for a woman in the want ads?"

"Okay, so where would a wealthy good-looking guy go to find a me? Can I pour you some tea?" asked Wynnie reaching for a cup.

Kasim watched Wynnie intently as she poured the tea, added lots of milk, and two teaspoons of sugar to his favorite cup--the one with the little blue sheep, which had obviously been designed with a coffee drinker in mind. She handed him the tea and smiled. Ah, that smile, that crazy hair… "You know what they say, most accidents happen close to home," said Kasim.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, a good-looking, wealthy guy might come right to your door."

Wynnie looked intently at the wealthy, gorgeous Kasim. Was he trying to tell her something? And then it struck her. The man of her dreams was right in her very own building. She threw her arms around Kasim. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! Who is he?" she asked excitedly, opening the paper and pointing to the model in The Lighting

Store advertisement.

Beetle-browed Kasim studied the picture for a few seconds, "Oh, that's the lighting guy, but that's not his real name. He was here a couple of weeks ago replacing the fixtures in the entrance and games room. Why? You need new lights?"

"No, he's my dream guy. I have to meet him."

"But he's a lighting salesman."

"So?"

"I thought you were looking for someone wealthy."

"Well, that's not the most important factor, of course. Do you play squash?"

"No," said Kasim. "You?"

"No," said Wynnie, "but I could learn to… maybe. Don't wealthy guys hang out at squash clubs?"

"Private clubs. They hang out at private clubs, which, without an invitation you would not have access to," said Kasim.

"Are you an early riser?"

"Yes," said Kasim.

"I'm not. And I don't like dead animals hanging on walls."

"I see your point," said Kasim. "Where do you like them to hang?"

Clearly Kasim did not see Wynnie's point. "I do not think dead animals should be used for decoration."

"Ever? Or just upon rising?"

What on earth was the man talking about? "Kasim, what does one have to do with the other?"

"I don't know. You started it. I'm just trying to follow the conversation," said Kasim, now growing perturbed. "You don't like dead animals to hang any where any time. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And why did you ask what time I get up?

Wynnie thought about this. She had asked because for one ephemeral moment--and she had no idea where the notion came from--she intuited that Kasim might actually be the one for her. But now that they had conversed on the subject, it was pretty evident that he was not the one. Too bad. Prior to this morning's dialogue, she had been very fond of Kasim. But now she thought he was a little, oh, what was the word? Dour? Sorry, there was no use pretending, she could not live with a beetle-browed person after all. Finally, she answered: "I can't remember why I asked. Did you need something, by the way? Hope I haven't kept you from your mission."

Kasim looked at Wynnie, the woman he had hoped to invite to the yacht club for dinner. But it was now apparent she was not interested in him. And besides, she seemed a bit shallow and nutty. Though, that's what had always appealed to him. Should he go ahead and ask? What if she rejected him? No, he couldn't handle rejection, not today, the day after his puppy had accidentally drown in Kasim's heated indoor Olympic-size swimming pool. "Oh, I just stopped in for a cup of tea, thanks, must run," said Kasim putting down the cup.

By the time Wynnie showed Kasim to the door, she was already back to mentally revising her wealthy-dream-man list of qualities and was thankful she had the rest of this glorious Sunday to plan her strategy.