A Spit Swapping Situation

It's time to kiss and tell.

Well, maybe just the telling part. Because there wasn't any kissing. But there was a lot of spit swapped.

Here’s the scooparama:

About a month or so ago I ran into a girlfriend of a girlfriend of a girlfriend. I think this is just a couple levels above complete stranger but nevertheless I do recognize her face, know her name, and that she is divorced. Like me.

The fact that we both have ovaries and the same marital status puts us in the club, a place where that’s enough shared background for it to be acceptable to start with the mutual grilling of the love life status sixty seconds into the conversation.

We inquire with hushed whispers, “So, are you seeing anyone?”

She answers yes and tells me about her great boyfriend.

Of course, I answer with my standard, “Are you kidding me?”

She does what everyone does when I confess that the epitome of Saturday night excitement for me is getting all my laundry done.

“What? Why? You’re so fun and so pretty!”

Spoken like someone who hasn't seen me sans mascara or the Saturday before my period. “Yeah, and so not dating,” I tack on emphatically.

She proceeds to insist that I should date her boss. First of all, this town is smaller than a Lady GaGa leotard, I know her boss. He’s about 8 years older than me and our social circles do overlap. That is, when I feel like being social.

I laugh. “Please,” I explain, “I’ve talked to him several times; I don’t think he’s interested.”

She guffaws. And insists that I’m so, so wrong.

Four days later this self-appointed cubicle cupid works her magic because I get a text message from said boss asking me to meet him for a drink. Well, whatdayaknow, Idaho.

I agree and so we do, two days later. We have a fairly decent conversation and he must have thought so too because afterward he asks me to dinner that weekend and I figure why not.

And so Saturday night I put on some of my glittery overpriced eye shadow I reserve for emergency dating situations and head out for a steak. Another pretty good discussion ensues but the whole time I feel like I am trying too hard. I am only two dates in and I’m already exhausted by the effort and distracted by the fact that I have neglected laundry at home.

This is not a good sign.

Before the date ends we decide to stop for a drink.

We end up seated at the bar with a couple acquaintances of mine, one of whom I just learned the day before had dated this guy briefly last year. I wonder if this will be awkward?

Well, depends on who you ask because before you can say martini on the rocks I find myself being slowly wedged out of the conversation. Is this a Harry Potter flick? Did someone throw an invisibility cloak over my melon? Because my date and his old flame are soon leaning into one another giggling away over some inside joke about a dart board. Fine by me that I’m not in on the punch line, the only thing bothering me at this point is that I am sitting smack dab in the middle and all their mutual chuckling is launching spit into my eyeballs.

I excuse myself to no one in particular, escape the saliva shower, and head to the lady’s room where I can laugh out loud in the handicapped stall at this entire situation.

Only me.

Only me . . .

The good news is that was my last date with the girlfriend of my girlfriend’s girlfriend’s boss. And the gooder news is that after my acquaintance saw him with me that night they have since rekindled their flame. I’m sure right now those two are playing some hot and naughty game of darts somewhere across town and covering each other with their spitty little infatuation giggles.

More power to them. I am glad I could be of help.

Now I can go back to focusing on the much more important matter of my unmentionables.

My laundry.

Beckons.
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Truly, I am thrilled that those two are reconnecting. She is a sweeatheart and he is really an incredibly nice, nice guy. I am genuinely impressed by how God works and honored that I may have played a part in the rekindling of something special. If those two end up happily ever after, I am requesting two pieces of wedding cake at the reception for my role in this sweet fairy tale!
~Audra