We didn't think too much of it; at least, I didn't think much of it until ...
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Let’s Give ’em Something to Talk About
Don’t Believe Everything You Hear
One balmy night, the full moon high, I walk into town, flip-flops slapping softly, and grab a seat on the patio at the local watering hole, the Tahiti Nui, where sits Shelley, my new drinking buddy.
Halfway through our second or maybe third drink, up walks a guy she knows, Mike, who has a cute friend I’ve not seen before. He’s tall and slender with long dark hair and warm brown eyes. The four of us sit at a table and by closing time Mr. Cute is playing footsie with me under the table, leaning in close to talk to me in a low, slow voice. His sweet smoky scent, that mixture of booze and cigarettes, is, as always, an aphrodisiac. He asks me to come home with him, but I’ve turned a new leaf. Instead, I tell him where he can find me on Saturday—my usual weekend hangout, the beach at Pavilions.
In the meantime, I mention meeting him to a couple friends.
“Oh, him,” one of them snickers, “the Kona gigolo.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Never mind, you’ll find out,” she shrugs.
I’m surprised when he actually shows up on Saturday. We wade into the shore break and he splashes me, teases me, tries to get me to go underwater. I don’t, but he does, diving and surfacing and looking for all the world like a frolicking seal, hair slicked back, long dark eyelashes, water dripping down his face. I am smitten. I already feel like I know him, even that I already love him.
I’m glad I listened to my intuition instead of gossip. Years later, we were still together in a loving, reciprocally warm, and committed relationship. It didn’t work out in the end, but for reasons unrelated to age, gender, or finance.
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RetroFlash300 / 300 words (Just made it up!)
From the Horse’s Mouth
Mean, malicious, or mendacious? Just plain fun? To advance a personal agenda? What qualifies? Some rumors serve a noble end. In an unnamed presidential administration, White House staffers discovered to their dismay that only truly important people were invited to the annual Christas party, with invitees limited to high level, close to the Oval Office advisors, members of Congress, and — of course — lobbyists. Their solution: start a rumor that they were preparing a petition to the President to complain. They had no intention to write sign, or send the petition. No matter. Two days, the invitations went out to all.
RetroFlash/100 words
The Gossips
The Gossips
The prolific American artist and illustrator Norman Rockwell painted The Gossips in 1948 and like innumerable of his works it graced the cover of The Saturday Evening Post.
As was his habit, Rockwell used his friends and neighbors as his models, and in The Gossips he even included himself – that’s the artist with his ubiquitous pipe in the top right corner.
And notice the first and last image of the female gossiper. It seems the juicy tidbit she shared has come full circle.
So beware of the gossip you spread my friends, what you say may come back to haunt you!
RetroFlash / 100 Words
– Dana Susan Lehrman