Jett #3
In fairness to me, I did try calling Fallon multiple times since the party to ask her out—she has no idea what a big deal that was for me—but she only reiterated what she mentioned at the party.
That while she, too, felt a spark, the demands of my job aren’t what she’s looking for in a partner.
There’s something so endearing to me about her directness and authenticity.
It’s the thing I’ve come to value most in a potential partner.
Most women either want the social prestige of being on the arm of a Hall of Fame quarterback or love the lifestyle my money can afford them.
Her rejecting me for something so honest is…
attractive to me. That, and she’s a bombshell.
My physical reaction to her was unexpected but extremely welcome.
It reminded me that I’m still a man with needs.
Opening the app, I see her return message. It was sent a few hours ago when I was at Pierce’s game. Damn. Is it bad that I didn’t reply right away? I’m the kind of man who is very responsive to emails, and I’m committed to learning how to text, something I’ve avoided for a long time.
Diane: Color me intrigued, Lloyd. You didn’t upload photos. Are you a real person or are you catfishing me?
I immediately google the word catfished. Having Google right here on my phone may be my favorite thing about this iPhone. Normally, I have to wait until I get home and use it on my computer.
Oh. Hmm, how should I respond?
Lloyd: No photos for you either. You can be assured I didn’t lie about my age being over forty because I had to google the term catfishing.
The message immediately turns from red to green. I don’t know what that means, but I see three dots appear before a reply comes in.
Diane: There you are. I thought you disappeared.
Lloyd: I’m sorry. My son had a game. I just saw your message.
Diane: Fair enough on the photos, but I’m going to need some proof you’re a man and that you actually live in Philadelphia.
I send her a photo of my hand holding the wine glass. My hands are huge, as are most quarterbacks’ hands. I’m hoping she likes that. Most women do.
Diane: And Philly?
Lloyd: How the heck do I prove that? I don’t live next to the Liberty Bell.
Diane: Get creative, Lloyd.
I walk into my house and look around. Running my fingers through my hair, I rack my brain trying to figure out how to prove it to her.
My eyes catch a framed jersey of Kennedy’s hanging on the wall.
Owning a Philly Beavers jersey might prove I live in Philly, but it’s too close to home.
She might figure out who I am. But a more generic Philly jersey isn’t a bad idea.
I make my way up to Pierce’s room and open the door. The horrific stench hits my nose like a fist to the face. Did something die in here…ten years ago? It’s like a scent between body odor and expired food with a dash of sweaty feet sprinkled on top.
His floor is covered in various piles of clothing. I think there are more clothes on the floor than in his closet. There are empty food containers everywhere. I feel like I need plastic gloves just to touch anything. My father would have had my ass if I had left my room like this.
I grab a baseball bat and reluctantly and carefully use it to sift through the clothing until I find a Philly Cougars jersey. A professional baseball jersey shouldn’t tip her off at all. Most of the people in this city own a Cougars jersey.
I send a picture of it on top of a pile of dirty clothes.
Lloyd: Proving I live in Philly AND have a disgusting teenage son all in one.
Diane: LOL. Okay, I believe you. Tell me about yourself.
Lloyd: I’m a divorced dad of two. I have a son and a daughter. I’ve been divorced for a few years but haven’t dated at all.
Diane: Why not?
Isn’t that a loaded question?
Lloyd: I’m not sure. I guess I’m a little damaged from my marriage and subsequent divorce, and dating with kids at home is hard.
I send the response, hoping it satisfies her and that she doesn’t prod further.
Diane: I get that. Same for me. I have a little girl. Not quite a teenager yet, but sometimes she has the attitude of one. What do you do for fun, Lloyd?
Lloyd: I like to line dance, just like you.
Diane: Can I admit that I’ve never line danced before? I was just having a little fun on the app.
I smile, knowing she made that up for her profile.
Lloyd: Maybe I should take you sometime. I happen to be an expert.
Diane: Maybe. What else do you enjoy?
Lloyd: Watching my kids play sports. Sitting with a good bottle of wine. I’m kind of boring. I’m also not doing a good job of selling myself to you.
Diane: That’s pretty much all I do too. I guess it’s my age. How old are you, Lloyd? You only checked the over forty box.
Lloyd: Old enough that pulling an all-nighter means not getting up to pee three times.
Diane: LOL. You’re funny, Lloyd.
Not exactly how people would describe me, but I’ll take it.
I enjoy another sip of wine as I look down at my phone and catch my reflection in it. I realize I’m smiling. I’m not a big smiler, but I can’t seem to help it. This is fun. Aside from spending time with Kennedy today, talking to Fallon like this is making me happier than I’ve been in a long time.
Lloyd: I like talking to you, Diane.
Diane: Me too, Lloyd. What are you doing this weekend?
We have a bye week this week, so it makes it easier to deflect from my regular football-filled weekends. I need to sound as normal as possible.
Lloyd: Just taking it easy. No big plans. I might hit the gym and spend some time with my kids. What about you?
Diane: I’m away with friends, but they passed out early. They’re snoozing in our hotel room. You mentioned the gym. Are you an athlete like your son, Lloyd?
Lloyd: I used to be, but now my Apple Watch congratulates me when I stand up.
I got a free Apple Watch with my new phone. It keeps telling me how great it is that I’m standing, as if that’s some big accomplishment.
Diane: You’re making me giggle. I like that. How come you didn’t ask me for photos? I don’t have any on my profile.
Whoops. I didn’t notice. Obviously, I know what she looks like. Hmm, this could be an opportunity for me.
Lloyd: It’s kind of nice to get to know someone’s personality before you see them. Society over-sensationalizes appearances. Insides matter more than outsides.
Diane: No truer words have ever been written.