The Truth According to the Future Mrs. Steele 6/6/00

(Note from Mr. Steele: I always said that the woman of my dreams would one day write Truths for this page, without my having to ask her. Okay, I never actually said that ... but dammit, I should have.)

You all may remember me -- we were introduced a couple of months ago when I was Mr. Steele's 'latest squeeze'. Now I'm 'the fiancé' as Mr. Steele is fond of saying. I guess he thought up til now that only he knew The Truth, but ladies, we know, don't we, how we allow our men to think they know everything -- at least until we have our hooks firmly planted. And I got a pretty diamond ring on the third finger of my left hook that says just that -- so enough of that shit. So ... let's see how the future Mrs. Steele handles, well, The Truth. And if this one works out okay, well then, perhaps from time to time The Truth from a woman's perspective will show up on this page. About time.

So, let's see. Where to begin ... I know, let's set the record straight on a couple of matters that Mr. Steele, uh, shared with you since this past January. First, I never mowed his lawn -- he was just saying that to be cute. I admit to the step-n-fetch; damned if I know why, but there's something about this guy makes me want to take care of him, but I never mowed his lawn. Second, he says I told him I loved him first -- he LIES (now how's that for the author of The Truth, I ask you!). Somewhere around our fifth date (I really wasn't counting; after all he was the one with the bet) he said something incredibly witty and smart -- I'm not used to that, hence the Poor Party™, but more on that later -- and I said 'You know, that's one of the things I love about you.' Now ladies, join with me here in the sisterhood of woman-speak: this means only that there are characteristics about the man in question we love, not that we love the man -- am I right, or what? Of course I am. But he insists that this means I said those three little words first -- hah. He just doesn't want to admit to you, Gentle Reader, that Iago Steele, he of the Angry Place, turned to me unbidden one night, looked into my face and said 'I love you, so there,' thereby risking a quick and deadly ticket to the Poor Party™.

Let's visit the Poor Party™ for a moment, shall we? He made it sound so simplistic, like it was just short speak for guys I had to dump, and in part that's true, but the why of the dump, that he failed to share. You see, I been married before (all of you who know me, shut up right now) and when I left that marriage a few years ago, I swore I would never ever ever do that again. I made friends take a blood oath to shoot me in the head if I ever announced an engagement (don't worry honey, all of those terrible people are dead now, and no one will ever find their bodies). And over the past few years, I've dated -- a LOT. One more thing Mr. Steele and I have in common, the Serial Daters Letterman's Jacket. And these guys, ultimately without exception, overstayed their welcome within three dates. The primary reason? Well, actually, I can't give you a primary reason, there were so many. Like: they were stupid (okay, so maybe just not as smart as me); they were short; they were married; they were dull -- but mostly because they said truly stupid shit in a ridiculously short amount of time, like 'I am smitten'; 'I am enchanted'; 'I just called to hear your voice'; 'I want to spend the rest of my life with you' and so on -- ad nauseum. It got to the point that I'd get to date number two, and invariably say 'Hey, it's 2am -- I don't know where you're going but you can't stay here', and viola, they became an esteemed member of the Poor Party™. So, you ask, what is it that Mr. Steele did differently? He tricked me, the Rat Bastard. You see, when we ran into each other in late January, one of the very first things he told me was that he was pathologically single -- and I fell for it. By the time we hit date number six it was too late --I was smitten, I was enchanted ... and here we are four months later, and I call him -- Goddess help me -- just to hear his voice. And I agreed, just two short weeks ago, to spend the rest of my life with him. I am so thankful he only had ex's -- had he had a Poor Party™ no doubt my ticket would have been punched long ago.

So, there's my first Truth. There are many more in this little head of mine ... but I want to hear from you, ladies of the mailing list. Are there not a multitude of things you want to know The Truth about -- from a woman's perspective? After all, that's the real Truth, now ain't it? And while I'm on the subject ...

Oh shit, I have to go -- right now. I hear his key in the door, and I haven't finished mowing the lawn yet. And don't you believe a word he tells you -- the Angry Place is alive and well and lives in my house.

Forever.