Wedding Plans

The job interview was great. Proofreading and editing a community education brochure for a zoo. Securing instructors, developing children’s camp programs. I’ve worked so hard for this. The interviewer was very cute, a pudgy teddy-bear with a full beard and mustache, just my type.

The next day, he showed up at my place of work.

“I have an offer for you,” he smiled.

“How can I refuse?” I smiled back.

Then – he asked me out to dinner.

“Is this part of the interview process?”

He looked confused. “Interview?”

“Yes, the job interview. Community ed coordinator position at the zoo?”

“Oh. There’s no job. I just want to meet women,” he furrowed a brow as if asking how I could possibly believe there was a job to be had.

What the heck. I went out with him. I was entranced, captivated, intrigued. I never met a being like him before. He made me laugh and cry. He made me sad, happy, could stir up emotions, have a flat affect all at the same time.

He showed me his collection of Dr. Doolittle figurines, the giant snail, the Pushmi-Pullyu, and a chimpanzee. I playfully turned the crank on the Pushmi-Pullyu. Two tiny voices came from the little two-headed llama. “Stop pushing me!” “Stop pulling me!” We laughed at the tiny creature.

He invited me on a safari to Kenya. He showed me a slideshow of a previous jaunt and gave me a form to fill out for the trip.

I bought a dress for the wedding.

Then, he disappeared. Three months later, I called him. He said, “About the safari, everyone on the trip will be older than you, so you better not go.”

He disappeared again. He called me and said, “Hello, my exciting, lovely friend.” We talked and he ended the conversation with, “Good night, my love.”

I secured a florist for the wedding.

We sat on his couch. Me, leaning against the sofa’s arm, and him, at his usual place in the center, as he was kind of large. Then he said, “My mother doesn’t know that I see you. If she finds out, I’ll have to marry you!”

This was followed by, “Or, I’ll just have to leave you.”

I guess he left me. I hadn’t heard from him in his characteristic three months. I drove by his house, desperately wanting to see him, that “good night, my love” still lingering in my mind. He saw me. He approached my car and I got out. He gave me a big, warm hug. His hairy face tickled my neck. He called me later and said, “That hug was with me all day.” He invited me to a concert that night.

I chose the menu for the wedding.

Two weeks later, I called him. He snarled, “You drove by my house. You were spying on me.”

“If you were so upset about my being there, why did you invite me to a concert?”

As if switching faces, he said, “It was a wonderful concert. I can’t wait to see you again.”

I decided on a cabin by the lake in the Adirondacks for the honeymoon.

We went to a movie and afterward, he held me and hugged me. I melted. Abruptly, he broke away and said, “Bye!” Huh? I thought, watching him trot away.

Another several months went by. Does he like me? Does he dislike me? I had to find out. I called him. He greeted me coldly, “Look. I love you, but I don’t love you. I like the way you look, but you need to dress better, a slimmer pair of pants, for example. The sense of smell has a lot to do with chemistry between people, and Honey, our smells just aren’t compatible. My previous dates have been lackluster, but you, my love, are so exciting.”

Exciting. He said that I’m exciting. He called me “my love”! Well, he’s exciting, too. We’re both exciting. We can use the social hall at my church for the reception.

Several months later, I wondered does he like me? Does he dislike me? He must like me because he invited me on a safari, held me in a massive body hug, invited me to a concert, told me I was exciting, where his other dates were dull. So, where’s my proposal? I haven’t heard from him in months. I had to find out. I called him.

“I’m glad you called,” he purred, “Who was that Irish actress who was in Saint Joan? What’s her name?”

“Siobhan McKenna.”

“That’s the name, but it’s pronounced see-OH-bin.”

“No,” I said, “it’s definitely Siobhan.”

“see-OH-bin,” he was so sure. I guess they pronounce it differently in – wherever he’s from.

“Well, gotta go. Bye!”

I think I’ll name our first born after him.

Several months later, I called him, asking if he’d like to come over to see a TV documentary about llamas in their natural habitat. He wants to come over. It turns out that his family lives on a llama ranch out in – wherever he’s from – and seeing llamas will remind him of his family.

He was already talking about family. Late spring would be perfect for the wedding, provided his family didn't insist on an outdoor ceremony. Too many bugs, for me, anyway.

I bought gourmet hot chocolate for us to share and ordered some little tea sandwiches and little sweets from the Little Tea Sandwiches and Little Sweets Shoppe.

Days later, I called him. He told me how busy he was. I reminded him of our upcoming date. He said, “Yes, I know.”

…

Days later, I called him. He told me how busy he was. I reminded him of our upcoming date. He said, “Yes, I know.”

…

Days later, I called him. He told me how busy he was. I reminded him of our upcoming date. He said, “Yes, I know.”

…

Friday, the day before our “llama date,” I had to call him again to remind him. “I’m bu-u-u-u-sy,” he practically bleated like a darned sheep.

“What about tomorrow,” I practically whimpered.

“I’m going awa-a-a-a-ay this weekend.”

What’s with the sheep noise, I wondered. Working at a zoo must be taking its toll. I gave up. He’s obviously trying to turn me off, turn me away from him. I don’t need him, his duplicity, his sheep noises, and you know something else? To heck with llamas!

I made one last call. Just to say hello and goodbye. I went out with this other guy a few times, and I liked him. A nice guy who didn’t send mixed signals. A real human being.

He responded, but shortly after “hello,” he said, “Would you like me to introduce you to my friend Larry? He’s very interesting, very nice, he’s cute, you’d like him — ”

“I don’t think Steve would be happy with that,” I said with a sneer.

“What? What? What? Who’s Steve? Who’s Steve?”

“The guy I’m seeing,” I smiled.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Well. I wish you every happiness. I'll miss you. I didn't really love you, of course, but you were truly loved.”

I disconnected our call. Yes, my dear duplicitous being, you are not the only one in my universe. My life is not all about you, anymore. No more wedding plans. Not only that, but you can go back to the zoo where you interviewed me for a nonexistent job and date an orangutan!

Better yet, you can go back to your own kind. I will never date a Pushmi-Pullyu again.

No Pushmi-Pullyus were injured in the making of this story.