how it all began

“I had a great time with you last night, and it was especially nice to be able
to call you when I got home and talk to you again. We will do that again.
When works for you?

I should also tell you – because I am not sure that you noticed – that I wear
hair socially. That’s right: I’m a social wearer. I don’t feel comfortable
without it in most situations, and since I am used to wearing a wig when
I’m at work, this also makes me feel more comfortable when I am off-duty. I hope you don’t mind.”

“You hope I ‘don’t mind’! Sweet Mother of God!” was all I could muster in response.

Heads popped up all along the warren of cubicles at my office. It was just as well. Everyone knew that I’d had that date last night, but I’d been so frantic trying to so the 18327294 things that Sandra, my boss, had voice-mailed me to complete before she arrived at the office that no one had dared come by to get details. For all they knew I was muttering about of those things. I’d let that impression remain for a bit. Because it was going to take a long time to tell them about my date with the wig-wearing, toupee-doffing, Bob Jones University-attending, Revelation-obsessed divorce.