It’s the Fourth Friday Challenge for March. My friend Paul and I, both posting daily in 2011, decided to challenge each other once a month to keep things spicy. In his words, “we want to push ourselves to do something more interesting than we might otherwise.” I will put his challenge to me at the bottom of this post — it’s your choice to read the challenge or my response first.

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Ulysses sends his corrupt personal secretary Orville Babcock to collect me in the presidential buggy. I’m unimpressed by the transportation, but am much more taken by the tastefully-wrapped gift presented to me — a string of pearls nestled on a wad of cash. “This man is no fool,” I think, as I settle in for my first date with the 18th President of the United States.

I can’t help but laugh as he meets me in the White House foyer, red-faced and fidgeting in his tux. “Well, hell,” he mutters, “I was just tryin’ to impress you.”

“Why, sir, that’s an ineffective method,” I say, as I breeze past him, looking for a servant and a whiskey decanter. “Acting like a befuddled fish out of water is not what I’d expect from a war hero.”

He hears my comment as an invitation. Before I know it, he takes me firmly by the elbow and ushers me into his study, where he presents map after map, diagram after diagram, while describing in great detail every skirmish, campaign and battle of the Civil War. As I sip my whiskey, my eyes glaze over at the exhaustive litany, but I cannot deny that here was the man, finally, in his element — a finely trained tactician, a brave and brilliant fighter, a general. A real man.

Before he can launch into the Petersburg strategy, I touch my closed fan to his lips. “Shhh,” I say, “Let’s have dinner. Then perhaps we can plan some military maneuvers for ourselves.”

Apologies to the memory of Julia Dent Grant, who Mr. Grant obviously loved dearly. This was a mandatory exercise assigned by Gen. Tevis. I also apologize for the cheesy double-entendre pun at the end of the story, but I could imagine Mr. Grant may have enjoyed it.

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This post was in response to Paul’s Fourth Friday Challenge to me, March 2011:

With which 19th Century president would you most want to spend a night of passion? Describe your singular, perfect date together.
[I have to say, Paulie: what a weird and wonderful challenge! And it seems like we’ve both had the 19th Century on our minds!]

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Read Paul’s response to my challenge here