I've talked about her before, my alter ego, my 17 year-old self who is thin and active with long blond hair and a cute little shape, bubbly personality and a boyfriend. I call her Gidget. The boyfriend, also with long hair, tanned and athletic is nicknamed Moondoggy and in my little mind, they surf in the ocean after school every day. Well, this old gal may be heading toward the mid 50s but Gidget lets me know she's still right there every so often. A little over a year ago on a Saturday night, we were sitting in our favorite brewery and pizza joint when Gidget tapped me on the shoulder and whispered in my ear, "Look! Over there! See that guy? It's Moondoggy!"
I shook my head, she was mistaken. I married Moondoggy - he was sitting right across from me wearing his "Old Guy" disguise; gray hair, shorts, sports shirt and reading glasses. She gave me that, "Ohhh, Honey" pity stare and beckoned me to look at the other guy again. I did.
I must admit there was a certain glow around him; a light, an aura, perhaps. Shoulder length dark honey hair, a killer smile, but I married Moondoggy so could this maybe be someone famous? In my pizza joint on a Saturday? Maybe? I did the only thing I know to do. I took a discreet picture of him and texted it to Gidget's partner in crime, the friend who was beach boy crazy with me, went through more beach loves that lasted a week before moving on than anyone I know. . . the one who settled on a beach in Florida with her final beach boyfriend but appreciates 17 year-old Gidget's continual search for Moondoggy and will allow her own 17 year-old self to respond even though she is 55.
"Is this guy someone famous?" I texted.
Immediate response: "Not that I can tell, go ask him."
Me: "No."
Her: "Ask the bartender."
Me: "No. I just thought he looked familiar. That's all."
Her: "He's cute - just go ask him."
Me: "Not sure the spouse would appreciate that."
Her: "Fine, but it will haunt you."
So I quietly enjoyed watching him as he laughed with his friends, drank a few beers and smiled that killer smile. The guy eventually left and when he walked out, Gidget followed. I'm a grown woman. I was ok with that. And then. . . I forgot about him.
Last week Moondoggy and I were sitting in a restaurant having brunch. Someone tapped my shoulder and whispered in my ear. It was Gidget. "Hey! Look who's here." I looked around. Seated at a table with a couple of guys was this guy. Shoulder length dark honey hair, killer smile. I tapped Moondoggy and said, is that guy famous?"
He casually looked up and grunted, "I doubt it."
Gidget poked me in the ribs, exasperated, "Seriously?"
So I did the only ting I know to do. I took a discreet picture and texted it to Gidget's partner in crime.
Me:"Is this guy famous?"
Her: "Go ask him."
Me: "No"
Her: "Ask the bartender."
Me: "No. I just thought he looked familiar. That's all."
A few minutes later she texted back-
Her: "He does."
And attached to the comment was the picture I sent a little over year ago side by side with the picture I had just taken. Same guy.
I'm not sure what is more worrisome here: That 17 year-old Gidget still cajoles me into looking at cute boys when I am perfectly happy with my Moondoggy (even when he is wearing an Old Guy disguise) or that I had absolutely no memory of taking a picture, texting it across country, having a fairly long text conversation about this guy and repeating it again a year later. Either way, I'm in danger of having a restraining order slapped on me.
No comments:
Post a Comment