Tuesday, the day after I informed Mary of our upcoming marriage, was a repeat of the previous day. Me chasing her around as much as my job allowed and her running away as politely as possible. Today I'd be called a stalker. Rightfully so. From my point of view we'd not made any progress. Meaning I'd not even managed to hold her hand. Yet I managed to hang around her long enough for her to get to know me a little better. By the end of the day I sensed her defenses weakening. Or at least I'd wore her defenses down some. Whatever the case, late in the day she still ran from me, she just didn't run as fast.

Tuesday night had been busy with multiple guests arriving for the telethon, so after delivering the format to Pat I barely had time to get to the airport for an incomming guest so I couldn't stop at Ken's house to see Mary. Wednesday morning was just as rushed with trips to the hotel. The last guest I picked up at the hotel for that day's show was Dorothy Benham, the reigning Miss America. I had picked her up at the airport late the previous night, so we'd already met. Dorothy was my age, friendly and easy to talk to. She was from Minnesota and as wholesome as you'd expect a Minnesota girl to be. On both rides she sat in the front seat (as the guest always did) with her chaperone in the back. For some reason we were both talkative, so we chatted from the airport to the hotel. She talked about how being Miss America was not what she expected. About having to be chaperoned by a Pageant watcher everywhere and how her life was non-stop flights, appearances and hotel rooms. She said I was the first person she'd met her own age since she won the crown and that it was nice to talk to someone she could relate to.

Dorothy's story was interesting, I mean, how often does a twenty year old guy get to have a long talk with Miss America. It was a unique experience, wish I understood that at the time. Still, it didn't seem like a big deal. Dorothy was such a friendly person I couldn't help but enjoy her company. It had nothing to do with the fact that she was easy to look at. She had a great personality. That I was only interested in her friendship was obvious because all I talked about was Mary. I told Dorothy about this girl I just met, a girl I was in love with, the girl I would marry. But the girl didn't feel the same way. Every time I asked Mary out she said no. I said I think she might be scared of me. To this Dorothy said, "Your a nice guy, good looking, funny and smart. Why wouldn't she want to go out with you. And why would she be scared of you?" I hadn't thought about that so I did for a second then said the only thing that came to mind. I told her it might be because I just got out of prison. The chaperone leaned so far over the seat I thought she was going to crawl between us. Dorothy wasn't put off by my pronouncement and asked, "Why were you in prison?" So I told her the relevant parts of my story. By the time we reached her hotel she had convinced me that my past would not matter to this girl.

The next morning when I met Dorothy at her hotel to take her to the studio she was the same friendly person. The ride from hotel to studio usually took fifteen minutes that time of morning, so we didn't have much time to talk, but on the ride we agreed on doing dinner together that night. I'm pretty sure she asked me, mainly because I can't see me asking Miss America out under any circumstances, but especially at this point when I was completely focused on my future wife. When we entered CBN Mary the receptionist introduced herself to Dorothy. I should have introduced them but I was busy looking around for Mary, My Mary. I was drawn into their conversation when Dorothy grabbed my elbow and pulled me towards her. Then, with the bright and radiant smile that helped her become Miss America, Dorothy told Mary the receptionist that her and I had a date tonight. I hadn't thought of it as a "date" until she said so then. I thought we were just going to dinner together.

I walked Dorothy back to makeup and the makeup artist said to me, "How am I going to improve on that," pointing at Dorothy's radiant face. Everyone laughed politely. Dorothy had heard it before. As I excused myself and turned to leave Dorothy said to me, "What time are you going to pick me up for our date?" Behind Dorothy the makeup girl's mouth dropped open. She was single and knew me well enough to know I hadn't dated anyone since my return. I hadn't thought about the time so said I'd check my schedule and let her know after the show. Lame, I know, but I just wasn't into this "date".

I spotted My Mary upstairs talking to Nancy so I ducked into my office to check my schedule. CBN's annual telethon started in a few days, which was why Dorothy wasn't flying out after the show, but staying for the first day of the telethon. There were so many guest coming and going that CBN had rented a car and given me a temporary assistant. Which meant I had to schedule for two drivers and four times the pickups. It was already getting busy, but in two days it would become complicated. So I spent about thirty minutes working on the schedule. When I came out of my office Nancy was working at her desk but My Mary wasn't around. I stopped by the break room to get a Pepsi and Twinkie, my normal breakfast.

Mary, My Mary, sat at one of the tables with a cup of coffee. Without asking I joined her. She commented on my poor food choice and I asked her out. A few days earler someone had given me two tickets to a circus that was in town, so this wasn't the first time I had asked Mary to go with me. The conversation went something like this:

"Will you go to the circus with me. This is the last night so if we don't use the tickets tonight they'll be wasted." She looked at me for a minute before answering and what I saw looked a little like anger. She said, "You don't want to go out with me tonight." "I do," I assured her. "I want to go out with you more than I want anything." Again she gave me a look that said she didn't believe me. She said, "You already have a date tonight." I immediately said, "I don't." Mary looked at me as if trying to read my mind. "I heard you have a date with Miss America." "Oh, yeah," I said. "I forgot about that." My Mary didn't actually accuse me of lying, but the look on her face said just that. "No, really," I said defensively. "I really had forgotten." It was the truth and I think she half believed me. I said, "If you'll go out with me I'll tell Dorothy I have other plans. She'll understand." "Dorothy?" "You know, Miss America. Her name is Dorothy. She's nice." "You wouldn't really break a date with Miss America to go out with me." She said it like an accusation. "I certainly will. She really is a nice person, I like her just fine, but nothing like how I feel about you. She's just a new friend, you're...more." I almost said 'your my wife', but I didn't think that would go over real well so I spoke firmly and said, "I would like to take you to the circus tonight."

My Mary looked at me for a good minute before speaking. Long enough that I thought she was finally going to cave in and agree to a date, but she finally said, "No, go ahead and have fun with Dorothy." I would have argued further but My Mary left the room before I could. I could have chased her, probably should have, but I was deflated and hungry so I sat there and ate my Twinkie.

The date with Miss America was interesting. Caroline Guthrie had heard about it--everyone at CBN had heard about the big date--so she asked me where I was taking Miss America for dinner. I said we'd grab a burger and then go to the circus. "I don't think so," she said. Caroline was used to my less than sophisticated way of thinking. "You're taking an important CBN guest to dinner so you'll take her somewhere nice. And since she's our guest it will be on our dime." CBN had accounts with several local restaurants where I could sign for the check, so she selected one and told me where to go. We agreed on a time and not trusting me to the details, Caroline made reservations and secured a third ticket to the circus for the chaparone.

The dinner was awkward. Everyone stared at Dorothy. Not casual glances, but rude stares. I asked Dorothy if it bothered her and she said it did but she was used to it. I said that was a big price to pay for being Miss America. The chaperone, who rarely spoke said, "They don't know she's Miss America. No one remembers what the winner of the Pageant looks like. Did you remember what she looked like?" I didn't watch the show, but was smart enough not to mention this.

"Then why does everyone stare at her like that?" I asked. The chaperone looked at me like I belonged on the short bus. "Because she's beautiful, stupid." Okay, she didn't actually say "stupid", but that was how she meant it. I looked at Dorothy who gave me her beauty queen smile and batted her eye lashes like a 1950's starlet. I looked around the room. It wasn't just men staring at Dorothy, but women as well. When I believed they were doing so because she was a national celebrity I thought it was rude, but now that I knew it was only because she was a beautiful woman it stuck me as creepy.
I started with two guys with dates at the closest table. I cleared my throat to get their attention. I'm one those guys who could never be an actor or con man because I have no control over how my emotions show on my face. If I am happy it shows, if I am scared it shows, but when I'm angry it really shows through. I've never seen this look on my face, but have been told by many people that it's a nasty look. I am sure that's the look I gave those two guys because they turned their heads immediately. I repeated this several times until no one was staring at Dorothy. The same people that had been staring at her were now purposefully looking anywhere but at her. Realizing I had made my point I relaxed and looked at my table guest. Both were looking at me.

"Thank you," Dorothy said with a coy smile. "That was very chivalrous of you." The chaperone, who was less impressed said, "What did you say you went to prison for." I looked at my food and stirred it around a bit. "Now they're looking at you," Dorothy said playfully. To that the chaperone said, "They're wondering what such a beautiful woman is doing with a hoodlum. And so am I." I had a retort about the Nazi chaperone, but bit it back. Despite Dorothy's attempts to lift the mood, it was a miserable night. I could have blown off the chaperone's comments easily enough, but the truth was I didn't want to be sitting here with either of these women. I wanted to be with My Mary.