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An original work of fiction
by Lefty
2nd Installment
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STANDARD DISCLAIMER: The following is based on a
true story. It is at least as true as any current Made-for-TV movie
now being shown. All names have been changed to protect any affected
party. Some names have been changed several times. The author reserves
the right for any vaguely autobiographical portion of the following
to reflect more positively on his persona than would otherwise be true
in reality. Please cut some slack to any recognized person, place or
thing, however fictionalized it may be. END DISCLAIMER
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This is the second installment of Shermie's continuing
saga. You may want to read the first
to give you some idea of the trials and tribulations leading up to the
current dilemma.
Dating in the 90s:Parity Error
Chapter 1: The Perfect Babe (installment 2)
Babe Discussion
In cases like this, you've just got to discuss it out with your buds.
I give Taz a call the next day. I quiz, "So how did it go with you last
night?"
Taz, of course, doesn't want to confess to anything until he knows
how it went with me. "OK; how did it go with you?", he says back.
"Taz buddy", I croon, "I'm in loooooove. Did you see it? Were the
vibes annoying you? There was a luv thang goin' on! I got the number
and I'm goin' ta give it a dial."
Taz is certainly not going to be outdone that easily. "Shermie, I
didn't feel your emotions. The reason is that I was concentrating one
hundred and ten percent on Rose." (I knew that.) "Rose is the sexiest,
sweetest, nicest woman that I've met since answering that ad in the
Jewish Journal, and we're going to go to a Jewish lecture on Mitzvot
next week."
Geez, here I'm on an emotional high by getting a phone number, and
Taz had already set up the DATE. And it's a date that will establish
his high moral character.
"What do you think about me asking Leah to your Jewish lecture", I
ask, hoping for the synergistics of teamwork.
"Nope, can't do that; I don't like double dating", Taz replies. Silence
ensues for tens of seconds.
"When do you think I should call her? Tomorrow maybe?" I ask hopefully.
"Nope, too soon."
"Okey dokey." I sigh. "Then I should wait four days to call her?"
"Yep, four days is optimal", he replies. "She should be ready by then."
Obsessions
"Good thinking" I say, while wondering what she would be ready for.
OK, no problema. I'm sure that I could think of something of high quality
that I could do with her. I have the whole weekend to obsess about it.
There are surveys and stories in just about every pop-psychology book
about the average American male having sexual fantasies every 90 seconds.
Those guys must be pikers. A real good obsession, like the one I am
looking forward to, is pretty much continual. Time off for pitstops
only. Walking daydreams. Random compulsive visualizations. I've heard
that women do the same thing. Only they do it for chocolate. Maybe I
can work chocolate into my obsession.
Work, work, work.
The phone rings. I'm at work, already having accomplished several Monday
tasks. Got my tea, chatted with a client, stared at my computer, talked
to the boss, shot the breeze with a co-worker; the usual. Part of my
job description is to answer the phone.
I pick up the phone and give my standard "Yeah, customer support,
what up?"
"Hi, can I speak to Sherman?" The voice sounds as familiar as a dream.
Whoa, this is the first time that a sexual fantasy actually talks to
me at work!
 Seeing
as how the name was on the tip of my tongue, I choke out, "Leah?", simultaneously
thinking "no waaaaaaay!"
But the voice on the phone seems most agreeable. "Yep" it agrees.
"How are you?" it continues.
"OK for having my latest, bestest, most active sexual fantasy of all
time call me up and say, 'hello'," I say in my mind. But out loud I
merely say, "Real good, now."
We make small talk. We reflect on our shared Jewish services experience.
We agree that even our friends had a good time that night.
Leah says, "One of the reasons that I am calling, is that the softball
team I was playing for is on hiatus. It might be fun playing with a
different team. I was wondering if your softball team needs any women?"
Wow, the small talk is over!
The LJST
Any softball player knows that co-ed softball teams ALWAYS need more
women. It's a gimme. It's a no-brainer. It's sports rule #2. There are
always five guys and four women out there looking for just one more
woman to round out a team. Especially on game day.
The softball team I play for is no exception. The nickname for my
softball team is "The Little Jewish Softball Team" ("LJST"
for short), although we go by the official moniker "The Sandlox Sluggers".
"The Little Jewish Softball Team" is apropos since we have a Little
Jewish Coach, and a bunch of Little Jewish players, including me and
Taz. We even have a Hillel Rabbi who laid tefillin between innings because
he didn't have time before the game. No Saturday games. No guysover
5'8". And definitely not enough women.
Answers
Does the team need Leah? Does a ball need a bat? Does a glove need
a hand? Does a jockstrap need a ....? The answer is, "WHO CARES?" The
important thing is that Leah is on the phone asking me a question and
the only answer has to be "yes".
So I say "yes". "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes."
Then I say, "the team won't be playing this weekend, but would you
like to get together for some batting practice?"
I swear I didn't mean anything by it. I was thinking softball, softball,
softball. Or maybe I wasn't really thinking at all. I really know of
some batting cages down in Manhatten Beach.
As soon as the words are out of my mouth I think "Take it back, take
it back, I didn't mean it, take it back." I'm dead; she's going to take
it the wrong way!
"That might be fun", she says, proving that we're both on the softball
track and that I have too many fears and insecurities. "But I just hurt
my back working out at the gym, so what do you think of a movie instead?"
I say "yes, yes, yes, yes" and we set up a time to meet on Saturday.
Second Thoughts
From striking out to a grand slam homerun in the same conversation.
My heart is pounding, hands sweating, toes itching. BABE CONVERSATION!
And then an extraneous thought jogs its way through my consciousness.
Hmmmmm. What if I had called her first? (As I was working up my courage
to do.) I might have used softball as an excuse for the call. Of course
softball would have been a totally extraneous topic to my ultimate motive
of getting together with her. What if girls think like guys? Might she
have just wanted to get together with me? Naaaaaaaaah.
In Rare Form
Wednesday night I have a doubles tennis match scheduled. My buds meet
at courtside. There's Marsha and Morty and of course Cynthia. We start
warming up on the court. I feel good. I run for all the balls that I
have a chance at. I cheerfully say "good shot" every time someone tries
hard. My form is terrific.
Cynthia finally comments, "Shermie, you're playing great tonight!
And it's only the warm-up. You seem real cheerful. Did you buy a new
tennis racket? Did you get a promotion? Did you get a new computer?"
She is so far off track that I have to chuckle. "Cynthia," I say,
"I have finally met THE woman. Not just 'A' woman, but 'THE' woman.
She's smart, sexy, funny, Jewish, athletic, and she gave me her phone
number. I am in loooooove. I think this could really be the one!"
 Cynthia
says, "Uh huh." Morty and Marsha roll their eyes.
I add, "Really!"
Morty says, "You guys want to serve first, or should we?"
"We're going out THIS Saturday night for dinner and a movie!"
"We'll serve first," Cynthia calls out.
"I can see I'm not getting a lot of respect here! What, you guys don't
believe me? This will be the first date of a lifetime!"
Cynthia tries to mollify me. "Of course you're going on a date on
Saturday. We're all going out on dates on Saturday."
Morty interjects, "I'm not."
Marsha interjects, "I'm not."
Cynthia continues, "I'm not either, but that's not the point. The
point is that we are skeptical that you have finally met "THE" woman.
We have heard your stories before. You have done a good job of matching
my past dating traumas blow by blow. My last two dating episodes turned
out to be extremely hideous. You have not had any experiences quite
in the category of those losers, but still, you do not have a credible
dating history. We think you should at least go on one date before you
attest to true love."
Marsha and Morty both nod their heads with their concurrences.
It's at least three against one, and I haven't even voted yet. OK,
she probably has a point. But I refuse to be brought low by logic. I
am soaring far too high for that. This COULD be the one. Why not? What
about feelings? If my feelings are valid, then Leah is definitely the
one.
I remember what Dr. Laura Schlessinger (author of "Ten
Stupid Things that Women Do to Mess up Their Lives") writes about feelings.
Dr. Laura, America's beloved psychologist, believes that feelings are
fine, but one should not jump off a cliff because one's feelings tell
one to. I concede. I will go on at least one date before I do any more
attesting. But I play in a zone for the rest of the evening and Cynthia
and I do not lose a set.
Third Thoughts
The rest of the week passes in a fog. Work, work, work, work. Play,
play, play, play. Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep. Am I setting myself up
for a fall? I've spent twenty serious dating years (that's 140 dog years)
finding out that anticipation is far better than any first date. No
woman could be as wonderful as the image that I have of Leah. My head
knows this, my brain knows this, my mind knows this, but no important
body part knows this.
Saturday finally arrives!
!!!! THE THIRD INSTALLMENT CONTAINS
"THE DATE" !!!!
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