Average Jane



Everything you say makes you worse

This weekend was hotly anticipated in the Average Jane household for any number of reasons. First, my parents were arriving and that’s always high stress and always panic inducing. Second, I was going to a wedding — always a nice reminder of how very not married I am. Third, I was going to aforementioned wedding dateless, but my brother, the one with the “issues” was showing up with his long time girlfriend. I would be meeting her for the first time and was absolutely not interested in any part of it.

I drove up to Philly early Saturday and got my hair done with my grandma, warning the hairdresser through heavy fog of hairspray hanging in the air that none shall be used on my hair… and to put the curling iron away.

The next day, after spending after afternoon with mom and grandma, and the evening watching “Mongol” – a subtitled love story about Genghis Khan – it was time for the wedding. It was a small affair at a swim club/social hall. The hair was big. The dresses were floral. The mimosa fountain was… foaming. My brother and his whatever were at the table with my mom and dad. I was at the table with the bride and groom and their friends.

I hadn’t seen the groom since I was in high school I’m quite sure. Our parents were best friends in college. He was my ultimate crush as a kid. Tall, dark and handsome, he was the perfect… for an 8-16 year old. Then he went off to college and law school and *poof* he was getting married to his high school girlfriend. Since I was single, I was sat at their table. It was a catch-all for the singletons: Me, the cousin, random friends from high school, hangover-girl, and… him. The douche bag. And also the only single guy my age at this gig.

He plopped down at the table proclaiming before introductions that he was “f-ing hungover, dude.” Rad. Conversation started with talk of college. He went to West Virginia and had nothing but good things to say about Morgantown. “Best town in the country. Wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.” I promptly asked, “Have you been anywhere else?” This didn’t enamor me to my new pal. He quickly asked, “Have you been to Morgantown?” Unfortunately I had to say, “No.”

We meandered through topics from politics (“I hope Obama wins, but no one in the South will vote for the guy. (in hushed tone) He’s Black.”) to Saved by the Bell. He’s seen every episode and has a Rain Man-esque memory of the details of the show. He knows the Monday night NBC line up from 1992. All impressive. Clearly my heart was a-twitter.

When our table was called to the buffet, I followed him to the omelet bar. We were caught by the Mother of the Groom. “Have you met Jane?” she asked him. “Oh yeah. We’re already flirting.”  Douchebag.

On the way back to the table I learned that he just moved back in with his parents to save some money. He’s bartending. And doing data entry. Whatever – at least he’s got a job… or 5.

At hour two, I needed to defrost so me and my new group of friends headed outside. At some point, conversation hit upon that “I kissed a girl” song (new one. Sorry, Jill). Without hesitation he says, “Man, I don’t know what I would do if my kid was gay. I mean, I like sports too much to have a gay kid. What would I do?” I started a response about 4 times. I stopped myself, putting him into perspective.

The next stop on the Conversation Express was dating. The single girls lament the state of dating affairs and then he decides to jump in. “Yeah, there’s the girl I’m sleepin’ with…” I just stopped him. Mid sentence. I stopped him because his words were just like paint stripper on my soul.

Everything you say makes you worse.

The group started giggling under their breath. I tried to back pedal a little, but ended up just expanding on my statement. “I mean, everything that come out of your mouth is worse than the thing before it.”

Shockingly enough, the conversation ended quickly. He had to go. I wanted to go. It was only as we were leaving that I looked down and noticed that you could see his… um… “little guy” straight through his pants. Perfect definition. Shocked. Totally shocked. I couldn’t stop looking. I’m just so glad it was at the end of the afternoon so I didn’t have to think about it a moment longer.

So, takeaway message. I still claim to do great at weddings. In this case, I didn’t get lucky, but I did get to pull the best one liner I’ve managed in a long time.

Score 1, Jane.

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Comments

  1. Wow, this guy really seemed awful, I mean, what is he, like, french??Oo

    Nice spoken-assassination, your ninja training is paying off, I’m proud of you 🙂

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 1 month ago
  2. * Sam says:

    Wow. I hope someone offered him some lotion to put on that terrific burn.

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 1 month ago
  3. * aBove says:

    1 – Having been to Morgantown, you’re not missing much. To try and simplify as much as possible, just imagine that everyone there acts like they are auditioning for the next season of “The Real World,” all the time.
    2 – I’m likewise impressed by your abilities as a brain ninja
    3 – Saved by the Bell totally kicked ass.

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 1 month ago


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