Bright Summer Nights

It’s summer, once again, and beach weather has arrived. I live at the beach, if what I do in the summer can be called living. I have a couple of very visible handicaps. I’m a six foot six inch tall girl. There are lots of seven foot tall, handsome guys, just waiting to date a six foot six inch tall girl. Unfortunately none of the tall, handsome guys live at or near my beach. If my height isn’t enough of a handicap, I have very red hair and very white skin. If I spend 15 minutes in the summer sun, I get sunburned. (Do you know that sunlight reflects off water and can burn a red haired girl, even if she’s in the shade? Don’t ask me how I know.) I have to get some things at the super market, so my parasol and I are walking down the main street. Suddenly, I spot what might be a grizzly bear walking toward me, except that it’s wearing clothes, a lot of clothes considering the summer beach weather.
* * *
I’m Jim Roy, although they mostly call me Big Jim. I’m seven feet tall and I weigh about 305 very muscular pounds. I am big, I am strong, unfortunately I fall into the category ‘always burns, never tans.’ I’m wearing my usual anti-sunburn clothes. My outfit is a bit unusual, for the beach. I used to get handed a lot of shit about my clothes. Then I developed explanations. I have two explanations, one on the right, one on the left, ‘one fist of iron, the other of steel, if the right one don’t get you, the left one will.’ No one hands Big Jim shit about his clothes, anymore. (Oh yeah, they also call me by another name, ‘Bad Jim.’) Suddenly I spot a delightful looking lady, walking toward me. The lady is dressed, mostly in white, a blouse with a few flower prints and also white slacks. She carries a parasol. Unlike the plethora of midget ladies, hereabouts, the lady is of real lady size. Could it be? I stand to block the side walk. (When someone of my size just stands on a sidewalk, I block the sidewalk.)
I venture, “Hello lovely lady.”
(He wears a white shirt, loose. He wears light tan gloves. He wears light tan slacks. He wears light tan shoes and a light tan, broad brimmed hat. Could it be?) I say (very properly,) “I am not used to being accosted on a public sidewalk.”
I venture, “My apologies, my lady, but I know your secret.” I then lift my hat a bit.
The big oaf lifts his hat, to display his flaming red hair. (My ‘wolf dog on the prowl’ alarm goes off, but I suppress it firmly.) “Well, it appears that we both have red hair.”
I venture, “Since we each have a similar problem, perhaps we could exchange a few words, inside, out of the arena of solar death?” I gesture toward a little lunch place, where we might get a soda.
The big man can at least talk like a gentleman, but it’s the phrase ‘arena of solar death’ that snags me. I allow myself to be guided into the shop. I request a seltzer water and the big man orders two.
The big man says, “I truly understand the problems associated with red hair and very fair skin, at the beach. However, the problem exists only so long as the sun is up. Perhaps we could discuss things tonight?”
I tell the man, “Things are moving way too fast here.”
The man then says, “Perhaps just a slow stroll, down the beach, after the sun sets?”
(My ‘wolf dog on the prowl’ alarm goes off again, but I suppress it firmly.) “Well, if you promise to behave like a gentleman.”
The man then says, “With a lady like yourself, always and ever.”
(I wouldn’t trust him any further than I could throw a dead whale, however, tall, red haired boyfriends are tough to find.) “Well, I might take a chance. However, you will have to pick me up at my father’s house, tonight, say 9 P.M.”
The man asks for the address of my father’s house.
I give him the address and then tell him, “I must be on my way, I have dallied for too long, as is.”
I pay the bill, leave a tip and escort the lady back out into the arena of solar death. “Until tonight at 9 P.M., it will seem like forever.”