The Sporting Season

So it’s obvious that the NBA is done and that finally, OMdearG FINALLY, they have stopped playing ice skating sports in June.  You know how winter sports are over by the amount of contact you get from guys who you haven’t heard from since, I don’t know, the football season began in earnest?

First there was “Hey baby, how you doin’ Can I come over?”  He sent a picture of himself and Brad Pitt. He works in the business so that was clear why they were together. Whether or not he was bringing Brad Pitt was less clear.  If he’s coming too, sure swing on by.  If not, are you kidding?

Then there was the boy toy checking in.  He’s not really a boy. I mean at 42 you’re only a boy compared to a 60 year old so it’s a few years off for me but middle-life toy just doesn’t have the same ring to it. “Hey you want it?”  I don’t know.  Is ‘it’ a free trip to Athens? A new Bentley? Sure – yeah dude! I’ll take either of those!

Then there was a guy I actually dated for a while. Been MIA.  Wasn’t hit by a bus but did fall off the radar except for the occasional bleep.  Bleep as in contact not as in bleep-out offensive words.  You know I don’t do that.  Bleep out offensive words, that is.  Anyway, come 7pm on a Saturday night, “hey you want to come over?”  Ok, a few things here.  It’s Saturday night.  Why are you assuming at 7pm I just have nothing to do and am available at the last minute. I mean most Saturday nights I DO have nothing to do and AM available (as it’s date night) but you don’t know that. What, I’m just waiting around for your call? And this particular Saturday night, thank god I DID have something to do. Secondly. Come on over?  You mean that literally because over means the GWB.  Have you forgotten you live in I-don’t-remember-where-but-not-so-close-NJ? It might be the garden state but take off your rose colored glasses. 

Then there was a text from I don’t even know who it was.  “Hey I’m back in California, you know I always had a crush on you, you should come visit.” 

 Honestly?

I’m one of those people who when the phones rings and the person says “did I wake you?” even if it’s 3am I always say No.  I don’t want to make them feel bad.  It’s stupid I know.  Same back in the days of dial phones, remember those? To dial it was 5 wupwupwupwupwup, 2 wupwup, 8 wupwupwupwupwupwupwupwup – and if you made a mistake no backspace to get rid of the last number.  You had to start all over again. 5 wupwupwupwupwup ….I know for some of you under the age of 20 this might seem incredible but I’m not making it up. This thing would ring annoyingly and you would pick it up and there was no number display.  No name.  No anything, just a voice. I mean when you think of it really, what a stupid invention. And then sometimes the voice would just start talking.  No intro, no “Hey it’s so-and-so”;  just start chatting away assuming they were the only possible person you would ever get a phone call from so why bother saying who it was. And because I’m someone who doesn’t in general like to make anyone feel bad I would just start talking back figuring the voice or something in the conversation at some point would make me understand who it was.  And usually it did.  It was like a game. Guess Who This is, like What’s My Line. (also…over the head of 20 year olds, sorry.)

Once, when I was living with my sister, I talked to a guy who asked for her by name and it took about 5 minutes to figure out he had the wrong house.  We ended up meeting for coffee because he said he looked like Ralph Lauren.  He had grey hair, otherwise, note to self about wrong numbers:  Hang up. 

So I get this text for an invite to California.  An old dog CAN learn new tricks because I said, Who is this? That always feels kind of rude but really….who is this?

 Turns out was this weird weird guy who I went out with a few times (the last 2 out of 3 due to boredom) who came into my house, made himself a burrito, helped himself to my pots and pans, poked through stuff in my fridge (which if you’ve ever been in my fridge is pretty slim pickings), insulted my dog (which if you know how I feel about my dog is pretty hard to do) and generally boorish.  Has a crush on me? Interesting. Not enticing, just interesting.  Haven’t heard from you since October but I should fly out to California because you have a crush on me?  I suppose I should be flattered.

 But……not so much.

This was all in one night. I’m so happy Wimbledon is starting. I just hope the pause between the end of the tennis season and the start of the NBA is not also accompanied by a full moon.

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