Time Waits for No One

My tax guy is always late for our appointment and yesterday was no exception. I got a phone call 15 minutes prior to my appointment informing me that he was running about 15 minutes behind. I said to the caller, "He's always late. I'm going to Peet's for coffee." I go to Peet's. I order my coffee. I stand aside and wait for the barista to call out my name.

An older man walks over to me and asks: "How are you? I love the blond part of your hair. It's so whimsical." Who even uses that word?! Not a hairdresser! Please let whimsical be a good thing. I thought it was a sweet compliment. I told him my hair is 'post-chemo' hair though everything for now is post-chemo so maybe this is a signal to drop that part of my story.

So we talk about cancer. He has prostate. I had uterine. We exchange details, some graphic, not too bad. He talks about prostate cancer symptoms, what to look for, and then proceeds to talk about what it's like to have an orgasm now. I didn't ask. At this point I'm kinda thinking this must be how Hannah felt when she saw my creepy toes. I'm considering holding up my hand to block any more of this discussion, telling this guy that he's creeping me out but I also know this kind of conversation is more typical of cancer patients, not orgasm discussions necessarily though frank discussions.

Cancer patients have a way of cutting through the bullshit because bullshitting takes time and cancer patients know first-hand - time is limited. I figure this guy's either trying to see how much I can take before I walk away or he's just giving me the facts. I recently found out that my uncle has prostate cancer so I was intrigued with what this man had to say sans orgasm -- though if I were a urologist I'd probably be interested in his orgasms especially the burning part. Alas I am me, and we don't care to hear (this much) about other people's burning sensations. I started swooning, feeling as though I might hit the floor depending on the direction with which this discussion proceeds. Almost as quickly as the fire discussion ramped up, it burned out. Maybe it was the look of incredulity upon my face; an aging Dalmatian.

Overall this cancer slash orgasm talk was an interesting discussion to have with a total and complete stranger. It came time for me to leave Peet's regardless of how late my tax man might be. As I excused myself, the stranger told me his name. Dave. He asked my name. (Hildegaard) He's married (Thank goodness - or I'd probably still be listening to the burning orgasm discussion) and lives right next to Peet's. (Yay!) We said our goodbyes. I started to walk out into the pouring rain while another man held the door open for me and offered to pull the hood up on my raincoat. I told him no. If he'd touched me, I probably would have screamed.

I drove over to the tax man's office -- still in a downpour. I wait a few more minutes outside. Soon the tax man arrives. And I say jokingly, "You're late!" And he says, "No, you're late! You should have been here in February!" Considering it's the week of April 15th and taxes are due on the 15th, he had a point though if I'd seen him in February, I'd have missed meeting Dave and our discussing his hot topic.