Who Remembers Crazy Old Lou?

He was the villain in my first book, Victoria's Secret to a Happy Divorce.

But in my own kooky neighborhood, there exists an obnoxious Lou. He's in his eighties, his house is the exact same model as mine, right across the street. Often, he's tried to set me up with his 50 year old son...who has never lived away from home.

My car had been in the shop and was ready this morning so I looked around outside to see what neighbors were available to give me a ride over to the dealership. They were all either gone or working.

But there was crazy old Lou.

I thought to myself, yeah, he smells. Big deal, you can put up with it for five minutes while he takes you down Federal.

My other self argued. But he's crazy.

So? Just let him ramble for five minutes, someone the old geezer can visit with. Be the better person. It'll do you good.

I walk across the street and ask him to take me. He reaches out and massages my arm. (Remember, old Lou is a self-proclaimed "massage therapist" and always wanting to teach me how because he's sure I have the healing touch)

I would like to state for the record I HAVE NEVER TOUCHED THE MAN.

Ick. I pull my arm away and he murmurs, "Such soft skin. When are you going to learn to massage?"

"Not interested, I have enough occupations going on. Thank you."

So we get into his car. He locks the doors, turns to me and says, "Sweetheart, I'm horny. It's been two years."

Okay, my critique partners know I don't do well on the spot.

"Ugh. That grosses me out." I literally gagged, then thought I might retch. It was the old-people smell in the closed up car. Lou doesn't believe in soap, he showers with plain water so he doesn't strip the natural oils from his skin. Latin pride, and all that.

He looked surprised. "What? You don't think I get horny? It's been two years."

"I just don't want to ever think of you and all that saggy skin naked." Then I realized he was doing me a favor and could drop me off at the cross section to walk. So I added, "Sorry." Tried to make it sound believable.

He waggles his white, long haired eyebrows. "You should come over and massage me. You gotta be horny too. How long's it been since the divorce?"

"Not horny. I'm getting some. Take a good long look at you, and then me. I have a waiting list. It'll be a cold day in hell before I ever get horny enough to think of you naked."

So he sulks. "Well at least bring me over one of your books so I can read."

"Buy one. That's why I write."

All I can say is - His wife is a saint. Saint Helen. No wonder she's in no hurry to get home from the hospital. Two years? She considers it a vacation, I'm sure.

In fact, the last time Lou get out of hand, I complained to Helen. She ripped him up one side and down the other. He stayed out of my way for TWO whole summers. It was great.

Saint Helen.