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"Last Minute Sweat"

24 February 2003

Today was supposed to be a calm, cool, unstressed Monday, and indeed it started out that way. I was going to delve into my writing and no one would bother me, and my sweating would be minimal. The tan cotton turtleneck I'm wearing would stay mostly dry. That was the plan.

Some time after 11 my phone rang. "Hi Janet, it's Kevin." We made some small talk, and joked about how most of our conversations seemed to take place on elevators. Then he asked if I wanted to have lunch with him.

One thing I've learned about Kevin is that he's spontaneous. There's no need to plan getting a drink or having lunch in advance. He just does it on the spot. I'm more of a "Let me write it in my schedule" kind of gal, but I can deal with it.

By the time I hung up, my shirt was already wet under the arms. The good thing about cotton is it's absorbant. The bad thing about cotton is it's absorbant. The absorbancy means I can sweat more before the stains get too large, but it also means the fabric gets heavy, which I hate, and then stays damp for hours.

Before heading downstairs to meet him in the lobby I checked myself in the restroom. The wet spots on my shirt had expanded past baseball size, but were small enough to remain hidden when I put my arms down. I took a paper towel, folded it under my pit and clamped down with my arm. It emerged wet and my shirt a little drier. I did the same under the other arm, then headed out.

We drove to a nearby restaurant, nothing fancy, but a good choice for lunch. As soon as we got seated I knew I must have been sweating more because Kevin gave me what I call the "triangle look". That's looking in my eyes, then down to one pit, over to the other, then back up to my eyes. It's similar to the "uh oh, he's checking out my boobs" look, but different enough to distinguish. Oh well, there was nothing I could do about it now. Like I said before, sweating is part of who I am.

I won't bore you with too many details of our lunch, except to say that Kevin is rather nice. He's easy on the eyes too, perhaps more so than any guy I've dated. He has these cute dimples and nice smile that... well, anyhow. He did ask me why I had told him I had forgotten about our Valentine's Day drink. I kinda fumbled my way through anwering that, which probably didn't make a good impression, plus made me sweat even more.

He gave me the triangle look several more times during the lunch. I didn't bother to look down but I knew my pits were soaking. Then at the end of the meal, when he reached into his back pocket for his wallet, I saw that the armpit area of his blue dress shirt had a wet stain on it! Oh, it wasn't even in my league, but definitely there, maybe an inch wide and a few inches long.

Lots of things raced though my mind. Does he have HH too? Does that small a stain even qualify? Should I say something? No, silly, not yet. Wow, maybe he'll be understanding about my HH. Should I tell him?

Well, I ended up not saying anything. That can happen later. He didn't talk about going out again, or calling or anything so I don't know what might happen. Right now I understand his free time is consumed looking after his brother who is still in the hospital.

So I'm back at my desk, trying to unwind and get more work done, wearing a damp shirt that feels like it has weights attached to the armpits, and waiting for the phone to ring again.

For prior stories, see the archives.