(10 of 11)
Ted called back almost three months to the day. I'd all but forgotten about his promise and was surprised and flattered that he had remembered. I realized I didn't know enough about this man who would be my first date in 17 years. I knew about CNN but had never watched it. I got my news from the papers and National Public Radio. Besides, this was pre--Tiananmen Square, pre--Gulf War days, and CNN was still referred to occasionally as "Chicken Noodle News." Nor was I familiar with the world of sailing and the fact that he'd won the prestigious America's Cup. So as time approached for the date, I hurried to find out everything I could.
It wasn't encouraging. Someone gave me an article about his life that revealed he probably had a drinking problem. Not what I needed--again. A friend of one of his children whom I happened to know told me he liked only younger women and if he was interested in me, it would only be as a notch in his belt. Of course there were lots of positives as well: his environmentalism, his global vision, his work for peace.
Actually I had come down with a bad cold the day before the date but decided not to cancel on him, given how long he'd waited. When he called to get directions to my house, I told him I was sick and would have to make it an early evening. It didn't seem to faze him. But I was nervous! I'd gathered the clan around me for support: Peter, [her stepdaughter] Nathalie, Troy, Vanessa, Lulu and my assistant, Debbie Karolewski.
I may not have been invested in this date "going anywhere," but I wanted to be sure it wouldn't be because he didn't want it to. So I wore a very short black leather miniskirt, a tight black halter top, black hose and spike black heels. A few studs and I could have passed for a dominatrix.
I remember being up in my room putting on last-minute touches when Ted arrived. I could hear when Peter opened the door and Ted burst through, his over-the-top voice booming out, "Hey, Montana! Gimme five!" Peter lives in Montana and, as I learned later, Ted had just bought a ranch there and was excited that they had this in common.
A few minutes later I came down the stairs and Ted swung around to watch me. "Wow," he said in a husky voice, devouring me like so much eye candy with an unabashed lust so palpable that I could feel it on my skin. I also saw he was nervous, and I found that endearing. He shouted good-bye to my family (they seemed subdued, as in the wake of a tornado), ushered me quickly out the door and helped me into a hired sedan with a driver he introduced by name (which impressed me).
"I have friends who are Communists," he offered eagerly as soon as we were seated. He said it like a little boy bringing home good grades.
"I've been to the Soviet Union several times because of the Goodwill Games. [Mikhail] Gorbachev is my buddy and so is [Fidel] Castro. I've been to Cuba two times. We go hunting and fishing together."
I had to laugh. I didn't know if it was because he really thought I was a Communist and wanted to let me know that wouldn't stand between us or if he thought it was something I'd find endearing. I did. It was the second time in a matter of minutes that the word endearing had come to mind--not what I had been expecting. Before we'd even gotten to the restaurant, he pulled another stunner: