So, okay, you’ve heard snippets of my past relationships…and it’s possible I’ve sold some of these boys short in exchange for an abbreviated post or to hammer home a bitter valid point.  It’s true, one or two of these former loves could run head-first into a brick wall and be none the worse for wear, but for the most part, my choices have been pretty dang good guys.  And were it not for the awful fate of poor timing - on two separate occasions - one of these choices may have turned out quite different.

 The other day, I read a blog entry (on the wonderful www.nothingbutbonfires.com) that reminded me of my first go-round with *Tom.  The trigger?  Holly - the blog’s author - was recalling the early days of her relationship, her boyfriend’s time in the Navy, her visits to see him and the heartache of leaving.

Flashback (mine - not Holly’s)

The Year: 1997 (I think.  Memory bad.  Very bad.)
My “cousin” (nephew of Mom’s best friend) is in Navy Pilot Training in Corpus Christi, Texas.  I’m in my mid-20’s…just a few years out of college and still acting as if Monday brings with it two afternoon classes and not eight hours of responsibility.  *Jay (”cousin”) calls on a Friday afternoon to see if he and a buddy can come up to Houston for the evening.  Corpus isn’t holding their interest…they need a taste of the big city.  (Because it’s extremely difficult to get attention when you’re a handsome Navy pilot…or they’ve worked their way through all female resources in Corpus.  I’m going with the latter.)

“Head this way!” I say.  “We can meet at…” where else? “…my favorite bar!”  I provide the appropriate directions, wish them safe travels, and call 42 of my closest friends.

The Setting:  Aquarium Lounge, Houston, TX (damn, I miss that place).  Old house converted to bar.  Two rooms.  Sloping floors.  Tattered couches and booths.  Worn pool table.  Dirty aquarium dividing rooms.  Nasty warning signs posted throughout establishment.  “Don’t touch (velvet Elvis) art!”, “No smoking on couch!”, “No drinks on table (what?)”, “Don’t yell for bartender!” Danger! Danger! Danger!  Culprit of postings:  Miserable old woman and owner of popular dive.  We avoid her.  She’s one mean bitch. (Part of mystique)

Jay and fellow fly-boy have arrived.  I have not. (Please…a girl needs to make an entrance…or maybe I was just late.  Again, I’m going with the latter.)  The boys are seated in the front booth.  I arrive, wave hello, and am immediately diverted to table of friends directly behind them.  I quickly greet my pals and return to Jay, and “well HEL-LO…who might this be???”

“Nikki, this is…”

Fellow Fly-Boy Description:  Tall (uh huh), thick jet black hair (oh, my), flawless olive skin (Lord help me), slight attitude, but harmless (remember - was in my 20’s…this was still turn-on), quick humor - capable of back-and-forth banter (always gets me), Navy pilot-in-training (self explanatory), California boy (this is just too much), and confident (uh oh).

“Nikki, this is Tom.”

“Well, hello Tom,” I said.  “How ’bout a game of pool?”  Because I’m cool like that.

(Editorial Aside) The truth is, I don’t remember our first words (it’s that bad memory thing again).  I just know that we had a blast, played some pool, eventually crossed over into innocent flirting and then (according to Tom’s much more accurate recollection ten years later) we kissed by the bathrooms - likely under a “No kissing near bathroom” sign.  Looking back, I only vaguely recall this important moment, but I do remember two things quite clearly:  He was deadly attractive and I was incredibly intrigued.

Jay and Tom stay the night.  (Nothing sordid to report, folks.  Get your minds out of the gutter!)  Tom and I practice our outside-the-bathroom kiss a few hundred times, and then, in a beer-soaked haze, pass out and sleep until early afternoon.

The boys hang around one more night and, on Sunday morning, return to Corpus to train with their fellow hotties.  Tom asks for my number - sort of as an afterthought…determined to continue the single life and keep this interesting, smartass of a girl at proper arm’s length.  His heart has other plans.

Nikki’s 20-Something Reaction:  Play it cool, of course.  I’m 26, living in a fun town, surrounded by lots of friends with whom I attend every big-ass-beer night and live music performance Houston has to offer.  I have diversions, readers…I have entertainment options.  I don’t fall for cocky, adrenaline junkies…hot pilots from California do nothing for me. 

Two days later:  DAMMIT!  Why hasn’t he called!

To be continued…

Sneak Peek:  What’s it like to be emotionally glued to another human…and still feel the need to be closer?  And what about Tom’s career?  Everything, including joining the Navy, is meant to bring him one step closer to accomplishing his childhood dream of becoming a commercial airline pilot.  So what happens when the Navy assigns him helicopters?  Will he choose to accept his fate?  Attempt to leave the Navy and train for the airlines as a civilian?  Or drop out of pilot training and be shipped out to sea?

*Names changed to protect the innocent…or not-so-innocent…or maybe just to make things appear more mysterious.

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