Latin Lover Free With Purchase! A Carpet Story.

If you happened to read my last post, you know that I got new carpet. That new carpet brought my third latin lover into my life. The first latin lover story you will find by clicking here.

It's a lovely tragedy, I didn't let Erick, go nearly as far as Mr. Alberto. However, here's the story.

It was a beautiful Tuesday. The air was crisp, and the agenda for the day was full. After 2 hours of work, Maria (the name I give myself), rushed home to let carpet layers into her home. They would be removing old filthy oatmeal looking carpet with new carpet that was more the taste of toasted marshmallow. While it sounds appealing, the only redeeming quality was that it was new. The color was so disheartening at first, that a change of order was made so that Maria could keep this toasted marshmallow in the rooms she never went in.

The carpet layers were late. Maria had just enough time to show the three men the areas of the home; where to come in and out of the house, and the rule on keeping their cars locked up. There's been a brash of tool theft in the area. It was a brief encounter with Miguel, Erick, and Carlos.

Miguel is the boss. He's worked with the Carpet's America for such a long time. Long enough to learn to cover the knees of his clothing with duct tape. The joy of duct taped knees is that they won't wear thin while scooting around on the floor, and the silky smooth layer would slide on new carpet, not drag like the jeans. The fashion statement makes sense.

Erick, he's only been working for the company for 6 or 7 years. He's come from Guatemala. His birthday is March 21st, and he lives with his mother. He has 1 sister who is coming to visit for the Holiday. Maria finds that knowing his birthday could have a question way too personal.

Carlos is the shy boy. He's been working only for 2 years, and speaks very little. I don't think he speaks unless spoken too. He was like a ghost in the house. The magic working ghost, for I saw him working more than any other. (Which may not be fair, I only assume he worked more than the others.) Carlos doesn't speak English, or didn't. I had to ask to borrow his broom and hoped that the word "vassoura" was the same in Portuguese as it was in Spanish. (Hindsight said it's not!)

After swapping general information on how the job would be done, and what would take place, Maria left the boys until lunchtime. That first day of carpet work, she had to juggle between being in her classroom and being at home. Luckily, the nature of Carpets America was honest, and Maria felt at ease allowing them into her home without supervision. Her ornery roommates would think otherwise, but she doesn't breach that classified information with them, which is sometimes tricky in casual conversation.

Maria rushed to her classroom working nervously until her lunch break. She just rather be home. She planned on running to Little Cesar's to pick up a couple of pizzas to feed her crew back at home. It's smart to feed those who help do a job you rather not do yourself or need help doing. It's also a great motivator, somewhat of an ulterior motive. Why else do people feed teenagers after every volunteer project and each time they show up to extra curricular things? The purpose of the pizza's were to show kindness, in hopes of kindness and honesty in return, also to help them feel somewhat comfortable since they'd be sharing the same space for quite awhile. After feeding them, Maria also had no qualms about asking them to hammer a few nails down on the squeaky floors, when they were exposed.

The pizzas were a hit. Maria had 2 slices and hustled to work the remaining tense hours of teaching. The agenda upon return of her home was to clean her bedroom from top to bottom before pulling and dragging in all the furniture, shoes and dirty clothes. It would be a well deserved spring cleaning. It was during this time that a personal line was crossed.

The carpet crew had only finished one bedroom in the basement, while the large craft room was almost completed by 3:30 p.m. They still had to remove carpet on the basement stairs and remove and relay carpet in a bedroom upstairs so that the furniture, clothing and other items from the master bedroom could be shuffled around and out of the way. Why was the work so slow, she wondered? She assumed they were slow. She doesn't understand the technicalities of carpet work.

Maria happens to have a slight expertise in efficiency. She looks at most work like a puzzle, she wants to find the quickest process in which to finish, or in which to have the job run more smoothly. She thinks it's a coping mechanism for stress. She already has a few pointers for the carpet world. (No more tangents, back to the story!)

When Maria began working on the bedroom in the basement, Erick, whose last name is of an exotic city in Spain, began to help her. It was quite nice. Dragging dressers larger than herself was awkward. Personal conversation ensued. Erick was prying to woo. His opening line, in a thick spanish accent, "You are different than other lady's. You are special. Why do you do this? I can help you." Her simple response and embarrassed red face stated, "I like to work." Since they were working in the same room, it was polite to make small talk. He asked her age, she asked for his birthday month. This was the moment that doomed his heart to hers. He was born only 3 days before Maria. She saw his eyes engaged and lock on her, wheels had begun to reel. The animal instinct males have turned on, and she recognized the gaze for a split second before she rocket launched the thought out of her psyche. She was doomed to another encounter later.

The night of work finished at 9:30 p.m. Ug. Maria was surprised that they didn't hit the road between 5 p.m. and 6 p.m. She still had 2 other bedrooms to box up and move out of the way for the next day. AND, she decided she hated one type of carpet. She had to put in a change of order and that was stressing her out.

On day two of new flooring, Maria was sick, literally. The cough and congestion were binding her body to her bed. She was barely able to drag herself out of bed, She didn't even shower. She was not looking forward to teaching all day, so Maria had called in a substitute for later. She left work at 9:30 a.m, and the work crew beat her to the house! They were late the day before and early the next. She had wanted to move a bed before they got there, and they were in moving furniture out of the master bedroom before she could drop her purse in a corner. She scambled into the house, and went to grab that bed. And who should arrive on scene immediately when she entered the room? Erick. He just hefted that bed with her, as if he owned the place or knew exactly what she wanted without speaking; which she appreciated. Being 5 foot means that most furniture, especially a king size mattress, is really uncomfortable to handle. He seized the moment to tell her that he had something for her. Confused a little, she just said, "OK". She was expecting an invoice. Maria began cleaning up a bit when she turned around, a stealthy move by Erick as he appeared at that moment. In his hands were 2 dozen red roses. Oh no, the invoice was not in the form she expected!

Red flowers from where Maria comes from usually doesn't show up after such a short encounter. Red flowers from where Maria comes from don't come. Was he insane? Red roses insinuate a whole lot in her little manless world. She told him thank you, and tried to give him a little side hug, but he engulfed her, and felt him graze her kinked neck with a light peck. She was mortified! She hadn't showered, She was sweaty, She happened to have worn eye glasses, and hadn't even washed her face that day. The morning prep was just a swipe to remove the mascara from under her eyes, and to cover up yesterdays deodorant with a few new swipes. She knew it was going to be a heavy duty kind of work day and thus thought that showering would be a waste of time.

She pulled away, staring at the flowers and told him thank you again. He engaged in speaking sweet nothings, "I got you these flowers. I think you are so special. You are beautiful. I want to be your friend." Maria turned away with the flowers, "I'll think about it. I'll put these in water. Thank you." Luckily, Maria stored vases in a cabinet in another room. She got out of the situation, and he went back to work. She was relieved that the basement was finished. The men, and the man Erick, would be working upstairs. She could avoid him all day without it being obvious, and pursue her organization of belongings.

Then lunch came. She was hungry and knew the guys were too. Maria bounded up the stairs and told them she was getting some fast mexican food. Del Taco wasn't far away, and it would be quick. She asked them how many tacos and burritos they wanted. Miguel got 4 items, Carlos got 6, and Erick wanted to go with her, in the car! He asked in front of his friends, who lit up with ear to ear grins. She said it was okay if Miguel said so, which of course it was. Great, did he think it was a date?

Maria sped as fast as she could there and back. Lots of small talk. When it was ordering time, Erick wanted a burger and fries. He didn't like Mexican food. She wished he would have said that back at the house. While the order was being filled, Erick tried to define a relationship. The credit card went out one window, as did his advance.

It was painful to see and watch him try to explain his feelings. She was so thankful for the language barrier, which he mentioned. "I talk good English, when I by you, I don't speak words. Why I can't speak by you?" Then more "special" compliments. Then he asked the question, "Can I be your friend?" This is not a simple question because the term friend is meant as girlfriend, not a let's-just-hang-out-kinda friend. Maria told him it would be too complicated. She told him she was in school (a lie, she only works at one) and was very busy. He lived in Provo, she lived north, and it was too far. His body language adjusted enough that she knew he knew what was being said. Phew.

There was still the afternoon. Would they be done working by 3 p.m.? Nope, how about 5 p.m.? Nope. It wasn't until 9:00 p.m. that the carpet company rolled out of the house. Right before they left, Erick caught Maria outside. He slipped her a little piece of paper. Neatly scrawled was his name and phone number. He wanted her to call. He hugged her tight for the last time, and she rushed into the house busy with clean up.

That's the story. I buy carpet and a carpet layer woos with red roses. How could this be? It's a little hilarious, strange, outrageous, and curious.

I told Cherolyn the tale. Her take: God must be telling you to hook up with the Latinos. They love you for who you are, glasses and all. Guys in our generation are just to lazy, picky, unbecoming etc... Okay, mental note taken, but I will want a Latino from my same upbringing. Know anyone?

Second, this was actually my third time around with a Latinos and their advances. (There is a story that includes a proposal from Luis. That happened before I began blogging.) Why do Latinos advance, and others don't. Cherolyn being the friend she is replied with, "You don't let them take care of you. While being independent is good, you don't give them room to help you." Okay, mental note taken. Act dumber and needier. "It's really just not letting them know as much about your independence at first." Fine.