October 18, 2004
Smug Satisfaction
Flash back to ten years ago. I'm young, I'm single, and I'm with Dad, his friends, and some elderly relatives. It's interesting for about a nano-second, and then I'm checking my watch so often that my aunt asks if I have a tic.
The only other person in the room under retirement age is KJ, whom I haven't seen in, say, 15 years, when he was carrying me on his shoulders. He's not that much older than I; he's just really damn big. Football big.
In fact, he played college football for a Big Ten school, before he became Manager of several hoity-toity restaurants in Chicago. Not only is he enormous, but he's fairly handsome, and a wearer of jewelry -- gold chain, Rolex, college ring. SOOOOO far from my type, he may as well not even be human.
But, in the spirit of Old Times, and, more accurately, in the spirit of He's Not Going To Tell Me About His Latest Surgery, I approach and begin with the "haven't-seen-ya-in-a-while" chit-chat.
So you know that thing people do when they want to make it perfectly clear that they're not interested in your blatant desire for them, and they mention their significant other fourteen times in one sentence? Yeah. He started in on that.
"Oh, my fiancé and I were just going shopping for my fiancé in my fiancé's car, which I just bought for my fiancé, when my fiancé said the funniest thing..."
Oh for fuck's sake, I get it already! You're taken! You're off the market! Whatever, just shut the fuck up! Sheesh, I didn't realize that, while asking you where you're working now, I had unbuttoned my blouse and crawled into your lap! I'm so sorry!
Able to take a hint when applied with an anvil to the noggin, I backed slowly away from the crazy man.
Flash forward to last weekend. It was just Dad, KJ Sr., KJ and myself for dinner one evening. But -- surprise, surprise -- Mr. Gold Chain is in the midst of divorcing the fiancé I'd had the pleasure of hearing so much about. Aw, shucks. And me all happily married to a non-jewelry-wearing, handsome entrepreneur. Dang. Of all the luck.
So you know that thing people do when they want to make it perfectly clear that they're totally interested in showing their blatant desire for you, and they say your name fourteen times in one sentence? And they agree fervently with everything you say and laugh uproariously at all your jokes? Yeah. He started in on that.
Not even on my most desperately single day, KJ.