Quantcast

The complete truth

She hardly watches T.V., but watching last night with her boyfriend one of my commercial's ran and he said "check this guy, he does Vermont really funny."

I smile, she continues "It was the one where you eat the apple, the 'Sunday One,' one. And I walk in, and here you are."

I act unimpressed while doing my best to fabricate what I can of a faux embarrassed smile "oh yeah, the one where I eat the apple." She nods. I return attention back to my bowl of noodles.

Humans regularly define complete truth by what they see from a distance, and at the neighborhood joint, a church, gas station, theatre, fish market, baseball diamond, hospital waiting room, or anywhere really, me chatting up, or in this case I define it as, me being chatted up, by a women, will more than likely be defined as Me hitting on the women. I don't need to fuel the reputation I have for hitting on the "young," ones. (Reputation completely cultivated for the purpose of selling tickets to those watching from a distance, proven effective I might add) So to skirt presumed guilt, I play possum. I eat more, but don't say more. If the pretty gal and I are going to continue our relationship, it's all up to her.

I consider the odds, and past experience tells me it's over between her and I.

Then, improbability strikes a second time, like lightening.

"The Vermont thing is great, I like it. I'm from New Jersey." She speaks, and I'm so surprised, my right leg twitches, sending my knee into the underside of the counter. It hurts. But it's a good hurt.

Macaroni done, applesauce gone, still enough tea left to wash down a brownie, the pretty girl and I dive head first into small talk.

0
Vote on this Story by clicking on the Icon

Comments

Use the comment form below to begin a discussion about this content.

Sign in to comment