Things got weird real fast. My riding life was beginning to take over my nights. Every night in the city was an adventure. But I was making my way and making some money. Albeit pre-tax but I'll worry about that later. Much later. I was still driving to stay alive.
Pauline. Pauline was a good sport. But she wasn't prepared for the reign of shit I was unleashing on myself, her, and everyone around me but my passengers. When we met, I had a solid job, an apartment, cash to spend, a new car, and a lot of promises. We were good for a while. We'd go out a lot. I'd surprise her on her birthday, Christmas and holidays when we promised we'd do something small or not at all. I'd make it seem that was the case, then walk her into the apartment, lights off, and she'd see an avalanche of various gifts under the tree. She'd get pouty that I didn't hold up my end of the bargain. I was better at giving than receiving.
Pauline was beautiful. She hailed from France. I met her at a show and found out she was studying here for the fall semester at a school down the road. We struck up a friendship, and that turned into what it is today. Somehow, selfishly, I got her to stay after her semester was up. She got a nice job under the table as a receptionist for an investment firm or some sort and was making good money despite the facts. She lived with friends off campus who enabled her endeavor into what was myself, and they let her stay. She practically lived with me though.
I'm a sucker for foreign accents. You speak to me softly, intimately in another language and I will pass out. It's one of my only true Achilles heels. I could listen to her talk English for hours, and French for weeks on end and have no clue what she was saying. She was intrigued by my interest in her, and my ability to not jump right to sexual endeavors. Was that all I needed? Well, perhaps our mutual interest in live music. I found out she even played the drums in a band back in France. Sexy.
Pauline was slender and had that French/European style and the attitude to match. She took no bullshit. She was a long Brunette and to die for. She wore french hats, drove stick, somehow found all the nicest cafes in this uppity Massachusetts town, and could kiss like a pro.
She was out of my reach, out of my league, and i was in over my head.
But somehow for some reason she took a liking to me. More than that apparently because we were starting a life together. There was an unspoken progression from casual outings to dinner and park walks to "Let's eat in tonight." She was cool with it, so was I. Sometimes we'd talk about the future. Sometimes, we didn't. That's how it was. Neither was pushing, we just lived in the moment, and it was fine.