At this juncture, our testiness towards one another was eased some, but still obvious. We were at an energy impasse-a "personality and reality conflict" it would seem.
He broke the silence. "One observation I need to make to you...I note your proclivity for provocative cynical wooing those of the fair sex. Sir, it would appear you are a ladies' man-or would like to consider yourself one." He had me cold. He went on, "Be it what it would, that may merely be another illusion you are burdened with."
I then sat and witnessed a phantom, my Mr. Jones, laugh most grandly. It was a full deep expression of a light spirit lifted by humor.
My pride and self delusion assaulted, I retorted, "My need to keep in touch with ordinary existence is important and flirting with women works better for me than talking sports, telling unfunny jokes, arguing religion, bemoaning politics, or the quality of the current hunting season with these men. I do not live as they. I sometimes feel very out of place."
My confession came unbidden and hearing myself say it scored a deep hurt in my soul. I rode the ache. "Communion, Mr. Jones, the experience of a blessed commonality with another, with others, feeds the spirit; I don't seem to partake of that repast very often. The hunger sometimes is so sharp it is hard to endure."
My defense, followed by a confession delivered with energy and a touch of anger, greatly modified his laughter. He smiled the smile of an understanding, patient priest. I smiled weakly in return and felt myself blush.
He said, "As you will, sir, I acknowledge your venting of gall and shall be more politic." With that exchange we both demonstrated a warm acceptance of one another. It felt good and provided some nourishment.