I got in the car, started it, and immediately knew coffee was not going to happen. The car was idling at 1000rpm, making a high whine, and driving it in a circle around the lot made me terrified to drive it any farther. I texted the Libertine that I was not going to be able to make it, and called the dealership, my father, and my husband. The dealership would look at it, but since it was 5pm they couldn't guarantee they'd have parts or even get to it today. And they didn't have a loaner for me. My father was not exactly pleased to hear I was having car trouble, so I decided to call him back after weighing my options.
While I was making phone calls, the Libertine appeared and began looking at the car. He determined that my alternator needed to be replaced, which was not good news since the dealership had already told me they would need to order parts if that was the case.
Total side note here - What kind of dealership doesn't keep a part like that on hand? My car is 9 years old. It's not like many 2011 models are blowing alternators, is it?
At this point, I was getting a little freaked out. The Mister and I are a one car couple, so having a broken car is a pretty big deal. My Dad was still not sure it was the alternator, and was getting increasingly cranky about my phone calls. I assumed the Libertine was busy texting or chatting on his phone - but he looked over at me, asked me a few questions about the car, and said, "The auto parts store down the street has it in stock. I'll fix the car for you."
Now, I would never, EVER, ask a man to fix my car that was not related to me. My first reaction was to say, "No, you can't fix my car. That's not okay." He persisted, and my heart melted. I think I asked him if he was absolutely sure about this at least five times. He reassured me that he wanted to help, so I let him. I touched base with the Mister, we bought the new alternator, and the Libertine dropped me back off at work and went to get tools.
Ten minutes later, my phone rang again. It was my mother, calling to tell me that my dad was on his way to look at the car. We are not out to family (the Libertine had me rolling when he said I should tell Mom that I met him through a friend named Polly). Suddenly, I was faced with the prospect of my dad and my lover working on my car together. I placed a frantic call to the Libertine, who was calm as could be about the whole thing.
The two of them spent over two hours fixing my car while I was fretting away inside. I know my Dad had to be wondering why I was meeting a male friend for coffee in the middle of a shift. I know the Libertine had to be feeling a little awkward that he couldn't be his normal flirty self when I came out to see how they were doing.
In the end the car was fixed, and I wasn't outed, and everyone was happy. Dad left before the Libertine, so I got to say thank you with hugs and kisses included. I couldn't even begin to tell him how much it meant to me that he was willing to help me, at a moment's notice. Time is the ultimate currency to a poly person; for him to give up his evening to help me and fix my car told me that without a doubt, he loves me just as much as I love him.
I managed to almost out myself in March, and now April. Let's save any further shenanigans for May, shall we?