Average Jane

I have no more balls

I’ve got no more balls left.

Um. I guess I should step back. Catch you up.  The last week has truly been “balls to the walls” when it comes to meeting boys, getting their attention, and going after them. Perhaps that’s where my problem originates, with the notion that I should be chasing boys, period. But alas, that is where our tale begins…

Thursday I go to the birthday gathering of an old friend where I meet a nice, attractive, Jewish lawyer. (Editorial note: I did not know he was a lawyer until after he had left and I had already requested additional information regarding his availableness.) I find out he’s single. I wait to get his e-mail address. It happens to appear in my inbox on Friday. I send him an e-mail, very breezy, non-flirty, totally appropriate by all standards of play. Saturday I get a response. “We should definitely get together again soon.” Score! So, I e-mail back and ask him to meet for coffee this week. I have gotten no response. It’s Monday. Well, Tuesday by the time this is published, but I guess that doesn’t count.

Thursday I also had my Upper GI. Friday I made the decision to write the note to the radiology tech and deliver it, handwritten, too long but not terrible. He wasn’t at work so he didn’t get it until today. In theory. So, as of today I’ve received no response which again is fine, but doesn’t bode well.

So Saturday comes around and I’m really enjoying my High Holiday fast. Or something. Anyway, I go to services for young professionals and wiggle my way into the group of “cool kids”, those on the steering committee. They are in the know. And their ring leader is adorable. No ring. No girlfriend. So pre-services I’m super clever and witty. I balanced humor with interesting anecdotes and only tangential references to the fact that we hadn’t eaten all day. I worked the progression into the sanctuary so that he sat down right next to me, but he was invited onto the bimah (stage) so he went. Of course. Who wouldn’t? I think you get in better with G-d that way.

After services we meet in line. I cracked a joke about an “after party” and he says it’s back at his place smirk, chuckle. I  laugh awkwardly at what I think was a joke, but it turns out there actually was an after party at his place. And I had kind of accidentally invited myself. Nervous and completely unprepared for the awkward “sit down with strangers” meal, I started making jokes. Bad ones. The kind you repeat to make sure everyone heard, and then explain because the crickets become hard to ignore. Still, nothing. So I sit the next 20 minutes in absolute silence until they start talking about the after party again. The one to which everyone is apparently going. To get back in good graces, I start cracking jokes about how not funny I am. This only draws pity-giggles. I go home with my tail between my legs, contemplating the party which I had now officially been invited to, but had lost the guts to attend. I had already screwed my chance with the ringleader and hanging out with my two good friends drinking good beer was just a better option. I had already bought a peace offering for the ringleader, a bottle of Absolut 100 (on sale at the liquor store! w00t!), but with no inclination to face humiliation a second time in one day, I put the bottle in my freezer and hit the local bar.
So here comes Sunday. I’m in line at a coffee shop in the Commonwealth of Virginia making jokes about how strange it was to find a “hipster coffee shop in Arlington” when an incredibly attractive glasses wearing, blackberry/ipod/macbook toting indie kid laughs at my joke. I tell him that I’m suburban and seeing so many people with “personality in one place is just… refreshing.” He agrees. Conversation progresses to the name exchange/handshake, and then… nothing.

I had no balls left. I had used up my balls.

I had been so confident and forward with all these other men that showed only a modicum of interest (which could have in theory been confused with general politeness), that when someone actually showed interest in me I had no game left. I had no chutzpah. I had no balls. I think I need to ration my balls better. Or maybe I should give up my balls altogether. It’s not doing me a bit of good. Maybe there’s a balls exchange program where I could loan my balls to someone who needs them. Perhaps I could whore out my balls, like, be a wingwoman for those who need balls but have none.

I don’t know what the lesson is here. This isn’t a pity party, for sure. It’s simply my mitzvah for the week: sharing my hilarious, social-deficiency-laden anecdotes with you so that you can feel better about yourselves!

But seriously… I laugh at me all the time. And I invite you to do the same. When I told my coworker today that I had run out of balls, we both cracked up.

So, for now, fingers crossed that something exciting happens this week.

And if it doesn’t, at least come over and help me crack open the bottle of Absolut 100 I’ve got in my freezer.


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  1. * jess says:

    The part about loaning your balls? that made me laugh out loud.

    This makes me realize is that I’m not the only one who has more to laugh than brag about when it comes to men 🙂 Thank you for that comfort.

    Oh, don’t get me started. I’m a comedy of menlessness. We should combine forces in an effort to conquer the man-world. You take your DC suburb, I’ll take mine. And if you want the indie hipster down in VA, I’ll totally tell you which coffee shop he frequents! I am here for you, my dear. I am here for you.

    | Reply Posted 10 years, 7 months ago
  2. * freckledk says:

    You never would have done these things a year ago. Progress, darling. Chin up, chest out. The balls will grow back.

    Yes, my balls will drop once again, and hopefully soon. And you are 100% right. I can’t poo-poo a new found confidence. Practice makes perfect. When you don’t start w/ an ego it makes it easier to get rejected over and over again anyway. 🙂

    | Reply Posted 10 years, 7 months ago
  3. I’ve got two to loan – I’ve got no idea what I’m doing with them these days. Haha. This post was awesome. I’m now subscribing.

    Thank Jess.

    We could unite our balls and be all powerful. Ok. That came out about as poorly as I could have hoped.

    And… THANK YOU, JESS! Wickedly talented writer. Thanks for the reference! The more Jews on board, the better!

    | Reply Posted 10 years, 7 months ago
  4. * carrie m says:

    a comedy of menlessness? you cannot be serious. you’ve gone on how many dates the past few weeks? and even if the answer is 1 a week, that’s still pretty good. the fact that you have balls to try is fabulous. YOU are fabulous. i know where you live, so i can sing this outside your balcony to make sure you remember this.

    i may not drink the vodka, but i’ll bring beer and would like to hang out to drown sorrows or something. or maybe we should hit up hooters? my new place is equa-distance to the fountain of men as the old one! hugs.

    oh, and my money is on the jewish lawyer contacting you and you will go out with him by week’s end.

    | Reply Posted 10 years, 7 months ago
  5. * Sam says:

    Brooklyn boy beat me to the punch. But in all seriousness, it sounds like there’s not actually any shortage of men who would be perfectly willing to loan you the use of their balls. 😉

    I’d tell you how guys grow back their pair when they feel beaten down by a failure to seal the deal, but I don’t know how you feel about drag racing, strip clubs and/or Atlantic City.

    | Reply Posted 10 years, 7 months ago
  6. * Mandy says:

    you fucking crack me up. seriously. love it!

    but i read this and i sort of feel left out of the “jew club.” i think this may take lots of therapy one day. we should discuss.


    | Reply Posted 10 years, 7 months ago

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