Tiny Dancer – Finale

Hello Hello?  Anyone out there?  Sorry I have been away for so long.  I changed jobs and had a baby girl, two things that will keep a long-winded blogger off the map for a while.  Anyway, I felt it would be wrong to leave you hanging.  Let us pick up where we left off, with Lisa and Etienne.  So much has happened since then and, boy oh boy, will you be shocked when you find out how this little saga ends.

Ok, so to bring you up to speed:  Lisa was a student at Etienne’s dance studio.  Etienne was a recent divorcee who was into reliving his single days and playing out wild sexual fantasies.  Lisa was blinded by her admiration for his craft and her desire to be with him verged on obsession.  To Etienne, Lisa was no more then a groupie plaything who fell in too deep too fast.

Our story picks up a few months after Etienne denial of his relationship with Lisa.  By this time, Lisa was laid off from her 9-5 and started working at the dance studio.  Etienne, now technically her boss, enjoyed taking advantage of the proximity by slipping her into the private lesson room for some sexy one-on-one time.  In fact, the other dance studio employees were getting wind of what was going on behind closed doors.  Audible moans and frequent disheveled clothing was a dead give away that Etienne and Lisa’s relationship was far from professional.  Lisa was proud of her liaison and wanted nothing more then to be the publicly recognized woman in Etienne’s life.  She hoped the other employees and students caught on!  Public knowledge of the relationship gave it legitimacy, at least in her mind.

Lisa remained convinced it was just a matter of time until her real life “Fifty Shades of Gray” became a modern day fairytale.  That notion came crashing down when a freckle-faced blond stopped by the studio one evening as class was wrapping up.  Etienne glided over to her, kissing her on the mouth and offered a warm greeting.  Lisa looked as though someone punched her in the gut.  She stared in dismay as Etienne, announced to the studio, “Everyone, meet my girlfriend, D.”  Etienne’s fan club of groupie students flocked to the couple.  In their eyes, D snagged the unattainable local celebrity and was therefore admirable.  Lisa was shocked, she worked at the studio everyday, was still involved in a heated sexual relationship with this man, yet here he was introducing the world to his girlfriend. Image

The next morning Etienne picked Lisa up to go on a previously planned worked-based shopping trip.  He laughed at her fury and resentment, believing that they both understood what they had was purely physical.  Lisa vowed to cut him off and threatened to put an end to their workplace romps.  Etienne smiled and cajoled Lisa, knowing his powers of manipulation were far stronger then Lisa’s restraint and desire for him.  Later that night, his assumption proved right as he bent her over the ballet bar after the studio closed.

For weeks the theme continued.  Lisa was in an endless cycle of swearing Etienne off then giving into his advances; meanwhile Etienne called D his love.  Lisa held tight to the delusion that despite D’s existence, she would be the woman in Etienne’s life.  She was a shell of her former self, desperate and unglued.  Still working at the studio her behavior became erratic, anything to garner the attention of her lover.  One day she came to work announcing she got a new piercing (down there)!  She began to share explicit details of her sex life with studio patrons and co-workers.  Needless to say, the sex was not worth his business, Etienne cut her off and let her go.  Lisa’s downward spiral continued.  It seemed that she hit rock bottom when she contacted D via Facebook and confronted her with the details of her dalliances with Etienne.  Etienne was beyond furious and apparently did everything in his power to patch things over with D.  In fact, two weeks later D was in the studio showing off her shiny new engagement ring and sharing details of her pending nuptials with the slimy dance teacher.

Now I realize I have been going on and on with the tale of Etienne and Lisa, and since I’m back after my hiatus, I’m sure you’re ready for some new material.  Let’s just tie up the loose ends here with a wee bit of “where are they now?”  Care to guess?  Well, Etienne still owns and operates a dance studio, although a smaller school with a slightly less stellar reputation.  He had to fire all the employees associated with the “Lisa” era, as they knew too much and could corroborate her claims.  The few students that knew of the Lisa’s situation were told that the incident was nothing more then a fatal attraction and that theory was widely accepted.  Wounded, mentally exhausted and scorned Lisa disappeared, never to dance again.  It was rumored that she would reach out to Etienne from time to time, with no avail.  The louder his silence, the deeper her seclusion.  This year Etienne announced D was pregnant and they would be welcoming a little boy into the family.  Since then, there has been no word from and no trace of Lisa.

If we were all able to truly step outside of our own situations and look objectively upon our lives…relationships would be easier.  But many of us, like Lisa, get caught up in our desires to the point of delusion…seeing and feeling things that were never really there.  It is my hope that Lisa chose to move on without those people, like me, who reminded her of this dark time in her life.  I hope she finds a healthy relationship that is two-sided and…I hope she dances again.

Advertisements

Holiday Note:

Happy holidays, I hope you all had a great time with family and friends this season! Thanks for visiting the blog and welcome back if you are a regular reader. As always, I appreciate your visits, comments and referrals. I look forward to entertaining you throughout the New Year. Much love ~ MB

Meet Hank

Way way back in the day, high school to be specific, I had a best friend, Hank. Hank was good looking and out going. He was the youngest of four siblings, which meant that he always had access to an instant party. His mom was lackadaisical and gave up on trying to enforce rules, even big ones like underage drinking. Hank’s dad was never around and clearly detested party central aka his own home.

In my mind, Hank had the ideal situation. He had a big fun family and constant socializing. I yearned to be part of his inner circle and live in the party that was his life. My friends were blown away by the sheer size and qualities of Hank’s parties. There was a never-ending supply of booze and plenty of cute attendees. It was just like those over the top parties you see in teen movies…the fun never stopped.

Even though I worshiped Hank, common sense urged me to hang up my party hat and go onto college. Over my holiday break, I found my self-back at his place enjoying the old scenery. Things had not changed much except for the crowd. Those that came back from college were interspersed with a new group of high school people. With a wink, Hank introduced me to his new closest female friend, Lindsay. She had barely turned fifteen.
Hank was an eighteen-year-old local celebrity and with that status, things like college and a “real job” did not rate.

Eventually the revolving door of young party people wore on Hank’s dad. He was spending less and less time at the house. So much so that Hank’s mom grew concerned. When he failed to come home one New Year’s Eve, she called his business partner. After significant grilling, the partner admitted that Hank’s dad was having an affair. He was spending the holiday with the other woman. Hank’s mom confronted her husband who copped to the affair and announced that he wanted a divorce. He sited their home life as part of the problem; there was no peace and quiet.

That marked what I would say was the downturn of Hank’s life. The thing about his life that he enjoyed the most crippled his parent’s marriage. He felt that on some level, he was to blame and in ways, I agree with him. Get ready to hear the tales of Hank’s romantic history and gain understanding of how the past spins the future.

Side bar, I Google imaged “underage drinking” for today’s picture and I found so many LOL/WTFs:

Mr. Right….Ireland Day 2

I woke up the next day in Ireland feeling rested and much more like myself. While partaking in our first official Irish breakfast, the owner of the B&B recommend that we visit Avoca, in county Wicklow. It is the oldest working woolen mill in Ireland and Ireland’s oldest surviving business. Apparently, it was also the site of a popular BBC TV show, “Ballykissangel”. I myself never heard of the show…but maybe you have. My Mom makes me watch some horrible BBC show called Keeping Up Appearances, which proves that I’m not much for European sitcoms. In any event, Mr. Right and I were excited to experience something so rustically Irish. To the Mill!

That day, the Mill was closed for business but the retail stores were open. A few days before we arrived, Ireland was hit with a foot of snow. The snow has since melted but the weather conditions were considered extreme by the natives. Apparently, the weavers had not been to work in many days because of the conditions. Mr. Right and I were amused because the roads were clear of snow compared to what we were used to at home. No matter, we were able to walk around the grounds and look in the windows at the looms. The scenery around the old buildings was breath taking and we took some amazing photographs.

After making our purchases at the retail store, we went to Fitzgerald’s, an old Irish Pub. The only food they served was pizza. Weird, right? Anyway, it was the first time that day that we sat down and talked to each other with out the distraction of planning our day. Suddenly, I realized Mr. Right was acting rather strange and withdrawn. He was more concerned with the Barak Obama look-a-like at the end of the bar and oogling the inebriated the rugby team. This left me talking to who I can only assume was the town bag woman. I tried to tell her we were headed to Waterford the next day but in my Philadelphia accent, it sounded like “Wood-er-ferd”. Needless to say, she had no freaking clue what I was saying. I point to my glass of water….”wood-er?” Oh well, it was a lost cause. Smile and nod smile and nod…where the hell was Mr. Right? Oh, yes, how could I forget he was distracted and preoccupied! I wondered if he was upset at me for my lame attitude the day before. Perhaps the jet lag was staring to hit him too, or perhaps he was staring to think that I was Miss Wrong…

After lunch, we stopped by a shopping mall to peruse the Irish wears. We passed a jewelry store and Mr. Right asked me if I wanted to go in a look at rings. Rings? Holy Sweet Mother Mary….did he say RINGS? Odd coming from a man that was somewhat avoidant the majority of the afternoon. Anyway, I declined the offer and opted for the Irish version of TJ Maxx instead. I bought a shirt, which, I believe, was size 38. Apparently, I am fat in Ireland! Mooo. I kept thinking back to the rings, I should have agreed to go in the store and look. Why did I say no!! It just seemed unfair to the Irish jeweler knowing we had no intention of buying. In the back of my mind, I figured that engagement would be the next logical step for us but it seemed too soon to introduce the concept to Mr. Right. I did not want to be the pushy spinster; marriage wasn’t an immediate need. On the other hand, I did not mind the idea…especially not with Mr. Right.

After we freshened up at the B&B we headed into the town of Arklow to partake in dinner. At the first pub, we found out that dinner was already served. It was 8pm on a Sunday and most places closed their kitchen about an hour prior. We asked locals on the street where to eat and two men told us we could find a late night supper at Murphy’s. Inside, Murphy’s appeared to be another quaint Irish pub situation. We inquired about dinner and were told to head up a back staircase. Upstairs we found a lovely dining room, way beyond what I imagined from the pub scene below. Although the scenery was romantic, there was something still amiss with Mr. Right. His attitude couple with the ring suggestion of earlier was truly perplexing. What was going through his mind? I asked him if he was having a good time. Mr. Right brushed of the inquiry but something was wrong. Had he come all the way to Ireland to realize I was not the one for him? Could it be? But what about the ring comment? Ugh, what a bunch of horrible thoughts; there was only one thing left to do…drink whiskey!