Place: Wrigley Field
Event: Yet another drunken day/night and another phone number given out
The guy, of course, lived in Kenosha, WI, which isn’t too terribly far.
He called a few days after the game and left a message. I returned his call the following day. He answered, but sounded really weird. “Is everything all right?” I asked him, concerned.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m a bit distracted. I’m just driving back from the hospital. My mom is terminally ill with cancer. That’s why I moved back to Kenosha, to take care of her.”
Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.
Talk about not knowing what to say! I’m pretty awkward as it is when it comes to saying the right thing, let alone to a complete stranger.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. Do you want to call me back at a better time?” I hoped…I mean…said.
“No, that’s okay. You can cheer me up!” he replied.
Uhhh, yeah. Um, so, uh, how about, um, them Bears?
Yeah, that’s the ticket.
Did you hear the one with the Rabbi and Priest who walk into a bar after golfing? Ummmm….yeah.
After some stammering and giggling on my part we proceeded to talk for a short time and he promised to call back and plan a time to come back to Chicago to go on a date.
The remainder of our communication throughout our non-relationship was mostly done via texting.
He had a tendency to say some very strange things over text message. One major “conversation” that sticks out in my mind started off with him asking what I was up to after work one day. We are talking a random Tuesday at like 5. I informed him I was going to go running. His response: “I wish I could be there to run behind you to watch your booty jiggle.” This sentence came complete with a smiley face.
I mean, how do you respond to that? Seriously. I think I may have thrown out a “Ha ha,” hoping in the depths of my heart he was kidding. We had never even gone out on a date!
He obviously, and incorrectly, took my “Ha ha” as a cue to continue with a bunch more booty talk. Because apparently three-way mirrors are not in existence yet in Kenosha and perhaps he figured I wasn’t aware of the rotund cellulite shadow I had trailing behind me.
He went on to say I was an honorary Kardashian and then wondered if I could balance a cup of water on my booty. This was all done with a flurry of smiley faces and exclamation marks.
Look, I know I have a large derriere. I know it. You know it. Anyone walking in the near vicinity knows it. This thing has its own ZIP code.
I realize in his mind he was complimenting me. I just found it super strange to be talking about all of this over text when I didn’t even know his birthday, favorite movie or how he takes his coffee. Literally we spent one drunken afternoon together. How was he so vividly remembering my rump anyway?
He did come back to Chicago several times, but would only contact me last minute/late night to “meet up.” I very quickly realized he was just looking for no-strings-attached luvin’.
Appreciate you trying, but I don’t think so buddy. Watch as my big booty wiggles and jiggles away from you. If you were looking to hook up you should have tried the first time we met when I had just consumed a twelve pack of beer.
Your chances, and anyone’s, are significantly higher under those circumstances.
I’m all for compliments. I’m human. I just feel like there is a time and a place. I’m not quite sure what the time frame should be, but I’m pretty sure you should at least wait until after the first date before you start talking about setting a glass of water on your date’s big ass. I mean, maybe start off with the eyes…or the hair…hey, maybe even the personality. I know I have a big butt. You know I have a big butt. I feel like there are more relevant things to discuss when getting to know one another.
And for the record: Never say you want to watch ANY part of me jiggle. Ever.
“I like ‘em real thick and juicy. So find that juicy double. Beggin’ for a piece of that bubble.”