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Last Edit September 1, 1998
I went to the bachelor auction for the "Make A Wish" Foundation in Little Rock, ARK with every intention of bidding on Fabio. After all, he is my fantasy, my muse, the icon I use to fend off unwelcome advances from those who do not peak my interest. ("If you're not 6'3"", blond, Italian,...").
He is a gentleman. A charmer.
But I also felt that I could never top the $12,000 bid that he commanded the last time he was in town.
I should never have thought that.
Never.
But, I wanted to go and bid anyway. For fun. For the experience. For the photos. And, even if I couldn't win, I intended to give at least $1,500 to the charity. It's for a good cause.
I didn't tell my son about that last part. He thought $500.00 was my limit. And, with $500 for the hotel and plane, he is already making a list to "get even". His birthday is in two weeks.
I already know about the 56K modem, two $50 computer games, a third bike, movies and videos.
All this on top of the more than $6,000 I have spent putting the van back together. Which now runs. Just fine. The doors even work.
And there is also a G3 - he wants a new Mac computer just because it's faster. Tough luck kiddo - me first!
So, off I went to stalk the tall blond who haunts my dreams and closely resembles every hero in every one of my budding Regency novels, the ones that someday I will get finished and published.
My son just rolls his eyes at all this and reminds me that he is the hunk in residence and that he hugs better than Fabio and then he flexes his biceps - he does have nice arms. I remind him there is just a little problem with incest being illegal and he should stop teasing his mother.
Someday I hope to put the tall blond one next to my tall blue eyed brunette hunky son and then put myself in the middle.
Bookends.
I depart intact - sort of - and I arrive. The two strange women that I have never met but have e-mailed were supposed to arrive before me. And I am late. They weren't even checked in.
Not only was I late, but it was 107 degrees in the shade and my hair droops. So does the rest of me.
I check in and begin pacing. Is he here yet? My pulse is pounding. I can't eat - but then I'm not supposed to. I bath. I begin to dress. A three hour project.
I have finally found all of my pieces as required for the event. Stockings. Shoes. Makeup. Sedatives. I begin doing my nails.
I do them twice.
The third time it is obvious that I am nervous.
By 5PM, I am in a coma.
The ladies have been found. One had missed her flight. (I'm surprised that in her state she didn't just flap in on her own.)
She tells me that TWA wouldn't let her on the field to board her plane.
BOYCOTT THIS AIRLINE! No one gets between us and Fabio!
I finally put on my nice bright purple dress - and I have lost weight! The dress has a tendency to fall off my shoulder. Bra straps are tacky. I actually have safety pins. But I don't remember this. I hope the heavy metallic fabric drape will hold it in place.
I load three cameras. Two are MAX 400 and one is 800 film. Just in case.
There's a knock at the door. After I have done my hair twice and my nails five times.
We have found each other.
The pack is now assembled. Let the hunt begin!
We descend. Seven floors. Straight down. We didn't really need the elevator.
He's not in the room. Turns out he is not the MC. Some local TV announcer is doing the thing. The target is not even eating in the room with us.
We are devastated.
But, he will be auctioned.
Good.
We will wait.
We nibble on cold food - a buffet - and refuse the Champagne. We stay focused and sober. All the women around us are imbibing. Some imbibe too much. That's a whole 'nother story.
The drinks are served by studs in tux jackets and cutoffs. Interesting. One stud had a cowboy hat. Cute little thing. We get carried away and offer to buy him. He wasn't for sale. He fled to the other side of the room.
We needed clear heads. Let the others get drunk. It will slow down their ability to competitively bid. We are high on adrenaline.
There are 20 brave souls who have agreed to parade and strut - but they just couldn't own the runway. Even when one of them stripped off his shirt (It did raise the bid.) When he flexed his abs. Cute body. We screamed along with everyone else. (He got in trouble.)
Halfway through the 20, the room was getting the second wave of sobriety - they needed more booze. They were drifting in and out of the room. They were waiting.
Of course, one of us slipped up. She dropped $200 on a cutie - a bargain. She has to fly back to ARK for the "date".
The other two of us had to physically restrain her from further damage to her one remaining credit card. She can't tell her Momma about this yet. She's a minister's daughter. (What can you expect! They are second only to Catholic school girls. Her words, not mine.)
When I say restrain her, I mean we had to grab her arms and hold her down when the next man came out. She had the auction bug. Bad.
Amazing.
By bachelor number 18, it was getting rowdy again. Of course, the music choices were not helping - "Born to be Wild", "Simply Irresistible", "If you want my body", "Wild Thing".
Can't wait to hear what they plan for the Man! Knowing Fabio, it will be more romantic and less bump and grind.
And of course the announcer couldn't handle the female reaction to Fabio. You could tell by the little remarks all evening.
We all started to turn on him. Rabid.
After number 20, we were reassembled and serious. So they threw the waiters on stage. Turns out they were dancers. Exotic. (Restrained.)
Ye gods.
The women were focused on one thing - and it wasn't them. They went to a table for about $200. What a waste. I should have pulled them in for the night. Poor boys.
They finally announced Fabio - and had smoke and lights up front - so I went there to get a shot.
He came in from the back. Dammit. He's caught us off guard. I'm fast. I dodge tables. I get shots. Fabio strolled onto the stage and begins trying to get back to the front. (I did get photos). I try to avoid the bunches of roses people are waving at him, blocking my aim.
Along the way he is mobbed. Hands everywhere. Every woman is back in the room. Every woman is focussed. Damn.
He does his speech. I use all three cameras. I have photos.
He starts to move. I follow. Stalking.
The bidding starts.
It goes fast. I am clicking away.
I move back to my table as it hits $8,000.
Time to be serious. Time to jump in.
The waiters were watching. Had to have been.
They called the auctioneer over to my bid for $8,500.
I put the camera down.
I move toward the runway. One hundred per cent all business.
I track the bidding. I've raised it three times.
Bids were from several places. Fabio I ignored. I couldn't hear the numbers. The Organizer on the stage had spotted me. She gave me the numbers. Waiters were helping.
By 11,000, the auctioneer would be sure I had the last bid and ask me if I wanted to go up.
I did.
Fabio was, I think, confused, in the middle of the stage. I didn't look at him.
I paced the side of the runway. Focused.
Determined executive woman on a mission.
Any bid I couldn't hear, I was told.
At 12,000 the room was expectant.. I bid it up to 12,500. There were shouts. Broke the record.
13,000. 13,500.
14,000. 14,500.
15,000.
I put up 5 more. No little finger raised. I was using my whole hand. Five. Five. Five.
They tried to get a bid for 16,000 out of my competition.
Two studs held me up, firmly.
"Hang in there. You've got him." They say.
I am hanging in there. I am not breathing.
Going.
Going.
Gone.
I got him!
A 16,000 bid just missed. She who waits is lost. (She now tells me she would have gone to $30,000. And she hadn't planned to bid at all! Her studly "assistants" blew it timing-wise.)
She can forgive them. I would have raised it.
Fabio's hands got mine and I cannot say how I made it to the stage.
What a hug! My arms around his neck. Crushed against his chest. 
Wow!
That photo I have.
I got kissed and cuddled. I am numb.
My dress had slipped it's scarf. All that pacing. Fabio manfully tried to wrap me back into it.
I almost strangled.
I finally straightened it out.
He has this firm grip. He feels soooo good. I really didn't want anyone else touching him.
Like that was going to happen!
I got hugged by the waiters, the bachelors previously auctioned, people I don't know.
I was escorted to the back to pay.
Two credit cards.
They are now whimpering in the bottom of my briefcase.
I am still in shock. I take more pictures.
More hugs
He holds my hand. Nice hands.
He looks into my eyes. He talks to me.
I look into those eyes. Nice eyes.
I am lost. . 
Nice eyes. Beautiful eyes.
I get another fierce hug.
I can die happy now.
I have a date for October. I haven't had a date in 16 years.
My almost seventeen just told me two weeks ago that I could start dating.
Damn convenient.
My two cohorts, these strange women I have never met before (email) who egged me on all evening, who kept staying "You'll get him. It's written on your forehead. You have an Aura." They came up for their photos.
The shy one hangs back. Not around me.
Fabio, at whom I have occasionally tossed other timid women, I give a heads up. I tossed her.
He grabbed hold, dropped into position and I got the shot.
He is so obliging that way.
We all came back for seconds. I didn't want to leave. I even got the nerve (brazen hussy that I am) to ask him out for coffee (he said no. He was too tired.).
He had gotten up at 3:30 AM. So had I.
And I wasn't landing anytime soon.
They were clearing the tables when I left.
October.
My God!
How can I live until then????
How do we go back to work? How do we do anything when we get there??
My almost-seventeen was right.
He told me, before I left, "You'll get him Mom."
It's that aura thing.
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