Winnie the Pooh

Lorinda Birdwhistle's new boyfriend. There is a lot of fur involved.

Jesse, aka Winnie the Pooh, the process server for my divorce papers. Yeah, he looks so innocent. If you look closely, you’ll notice the glint in his eyes and the bulge in his pants. He has a very large wallet, full of Ben Franklins.

Hey friends, I'm sorry you’ve not heard from me for a while. Remember that good-looking process server, Jesse, the one who presented me with divorce papers during my book club potluck?

Yeah, well I’ve been dating that smartass. Can you believe it? Damn has that been fun. Sometimes, I wish my ex had more papers to serve, preferably on Friday or Saturday evenings, and like every week. Surely handcuffs will be needed. I’m quite a handful.

Fuck Frank Sinatra. I see these blue eyes, and my underwear falls right off.

Jesse has a great spot out in the country and it’s a bit more private than that goddamn granny unit I’ve been living in behind Nadine’s house. That man spoils the shit out of me. When I show up, the place is spotless, with clean sheets on the bed (never mind, they are flannel Spiderman sheets), and he always cooks for me. Most recipes include Worcestershire sauce, and I’m talking everything from green beans to fried fish to stew. It all tastes great, but there’s just that same, dare I say cloying, flavor in everything. And damn, that guy can crank out the waffles on Sunday morning. In the nude, mind you, unless his grandkids are swinging by.

No comment, except to say the sheets were clean and PRESSED.

Jesse - great guy all around, though he does have some odd habits. The big one - his “hobby” of digging through trash. Some men fish, this guy looks for “treasures” in the trash, with his BARE HANDS. And he collects recyclables, like hundreds of dollars worth a month. His routine is to go through the trash in the courthouse, behind the city jail, at the women’s softball field after games, and then in the alleys on the residential streets downtown, usually early in the morning on Fridays, i.e. garbage pickup day.

At first, I was grossed out by the whole scene, but Jesse always washes up and uses a nail brush and if he’s had a really good haul, he’ll let me douse him with anti-bacterial spray before we shower (yes, together, get a fucking grip). Whatever the case, I’ve grown accustomed to his trash 🎶 He’s so damn irresistible, I can’t help myself.

So now, gird your loins, ladies, as Jesse and I are into phase two of the trashy part of our relationship. This phase involves his presenting me with the culinary delights he “rescues” from the judges’ lunch room at the courthouse. There is nothing, and I mean NOTHING that pleases him more than presenting me with his latest culinary finds.

Jesse’s friend, Londa, is the office manager for the judges, and every Thursday, she clears the fridge and freezer of items that have expired, are half-eaten, or just randomly abandoned. If a thing has been left in the fridge for over a week, it’s GONE. Needless to say, these judges have champagne taste, so there’s some damn good stuff in their trash, like leftovers from the Michelin-star restaurant on Main Street. Londa is best friends with Jesse’s sister, so she lets him do a quick rummage through the trash at 7:00 a.m. every Thursday before the judges arrive.

Jesse’s famous haricot verts with Worcestershire sauce.

That means that most weekends, Jesse has got the goods for the whole time I’m there. Last weekend was especially memorable. Jesse snagged a frozen Stouffer’s dinner from the judges’ chambers - Salisbury steak with mac n’ cheese. He then stirred fried some frozen green beans with his famous Worcestershire sauce and set a beautiful table for us on the deck, using his wife’s best wedding china and flatware and their crystal wine glasses, which we used for tap water since we don’t drink. A highlight of the meal was Jesse’s picking the link out of his belly button at the table before we dug into this Michelin-rated dumpster fire.

FYI, Jesse is a widower. No doubt his wife was turning over in her grave.

My god, I love this man. Dessert: peanut M&M’s - also rescued from the trash - the trash behind the movie theatre.

You knew this part was coming - the part where something bad happens. One day Jesse was super excited. He came across a granola bar that had been run over by a car, or perhaps several cars. It was pretty flattened, and it looked as if the goods inside had made contact with some radial tires, which had no doubt, at some point, driven over roadkill.

Jesse proceeded to open up the granola bar package (not hard to do since it was already busted open at both ends), and poured the crumbled bar out onto a paper plate. He then added this to his yogurt. “Delicious!” he texted me along with the pics above. Sadly, that evening’s lovemaking was interrupted multiple times by Jesse’s having to run to the bathroom. Was a lesson learned? No. It was not. More weird food items appeared the next week emanating from his neighbor’s Airbnb unit. I’ll leave it at this - the man has a sweet tooth that won’t quit. I just pray his obituary doesn’t read that he died from eating a spoiled kielbasa he found in the trash behind the jail. Fuck.

Yeah, I’m laughing right now. We’ll see if that continues.