Yes, Mr Gordon

Mr Gordon and I planned a Tuesday afternoon at the Getty. On Monday, however, Mr Gordon called and cancelled. He was still not feeling well. This was the second time Mr Gordon cancelled on me since our Grammy Museum date three weeks ago. Grammy Museum with Mr Gordon

My "spies" inform me Mr Gordon spells his last name Gorden, but its my blog so, he shall remain Mr Gordon. I've also learned Mr Gordon's late wife, all knowing, kept her apartment during the years she and Mr Gordon were together. After his wife's death Mr Gordon also kept and maintained her apartment along with his own house in the valley which he shared with her. Mr Gordon told me it was time to finally pack up his late wife's possessions and decide what to do with her things. I would suggest donating it all to women's shelters and Goodwill, but it's not my place to suggest anything. Even offering to help pack her things seems creepy.

I've never even dated a man with children. Having a new friend who is widowed is all together uncharted waters for me.

In conversation with Mr Gordon...

I also learned during their 20 plus years of marriage, Mr Gordon and his wife bought burial plots side by side. When Mr Gordon dies he will be buried alongside his late wife regardless of any future relationships. Mr Gordon said it was important I knew and accepted this.

Truthfully, I would be happy if he and I could manage a second date. And besides, I've already started making arrangements for when I die. I'm being cremated. Mr Gordon will be put to rest next to his wife. So this works out. Good. One less thing.

"Hi kid. How are you?" Mr Gordon asked. He called me from the studio lot he was working on.

I'm ok. More importantly how are you feeling?

"I'm doing better." Mr Gordon says. "I'm really sorry about canceling again."

It's ok. I understand.

"I want to see you. It's just... "

It's ok. I understand.

Two days later Mr Gordon walked in to my work.

He sat in an empty chair next to my station.

"Don't be surprised to see me." He said in his Tom Brokaw voice. "I told you I wanted to see you again."

Mr Gordon was holding a box. He bought a new cell phone. He hates cell phones. I have voice mail numbers to his house, he late wife's apartment, and his shop number. I leave messages and he calls me back when he gets them.

"I want to know when you call me, right when you call me." He says. "I don't want to receive your voice mail a day after you left it. I want to get it right away."

So you bought a new cell phone just for me?

"Yes." He says. "Because you're important to me."

Ok.

For the next hour Mr Gordon keeps me company while I'm working.

"Ok kid." Mr Gordon says. "I can't spend all day chatting up a pretty girl. Go on. Get lost."

Um. Except. I work here.

Mr Gordon waved me off nonchalantly with his hand. "Pretty girls mess me up all the time. I'M leaving."

After a few minutes saying goodbye to each other I sing after Mr Gordon to call me so I have his new cell phone number.

Mr Gordon casually walks back to my work station and in his news anchor Tom Brokaw voice says, "Don't hold your breath, kid." And then leaves for a second time.

Later that evening Mr Gordon called to say goodnight, and to give me his new cell number.

A few days later...

Mr Gordon visits me again at work. I ask him how he's feeling.

"I'm much better. The last part of this cold would disappear quicker if I could just stay home, rest, and not have this pretty girl constantly on my mind."

She sounds like trouble.

"Well," Mr Gordon sighs. "She's just so damn cute it's hard staying away from her."

Mr Gordon hung out at my work for another hour. He and I could have these visits over coffee and not at my job but I think there's an emotional safety net seeing me there instead.

I tell Mr Gordon I have Saturday off in case he knows someone who might be interested.

In response, Mr Gordon gently grabs my wrist for minute as if to say something important but instead makes eye contact, smiles, and then let's go of my wrist.

"Let's see what can we do." He gently says before turning to leave.

So, in conclusion, I'll either see Mr Gordon on Saturday, or...

wash my comforters
Or...
bike ride along the ocean
Or...
go to the library
Or...
see RINGS (seriously how many times are they going to remake this movie?)
Or...
see the PICASSO exhibit