Somehow, my life has turned itself into a ridiculous cartoon, a caricature of itself, some cosmically endorsed satire of itself, threatening to envelop and rip a hole in the fabric of reality, tragically imploding all matter upon itself. No, really.
After the early morning, and a long uneventful drive, we made it to the small town hosting the event, parked and found our friends preparing to run. We took a few shots for posterity and for before and after comparisons. We then followed the course as they ran, meeting them at a few locations along the way, taking more pictures and cheering them on. Right after the race, we met them, took a few more pictures, and had the chance to congratulate them. All fine. Her boyfriend was there as well. I was a bit surprised when I first saw him, not quite what I expected, a little bit underwhelming at first glance. So I wondered why this incredible woman was dating this person.
I found out. At lunch, we discovered that this person was, swear to the heavens, a fighter pilot. Who went to Duke and was a big fan of both Duke basketball and the New York Yankees. He might as well be the villain from a Disney picture, speaking with a French accent and smoking cigars in a dark room, slowly stroking a smirking cartoon cat. Back in reality, he’s a fighter pilot. That’s what men tell girls when they’re lying, trying to get laid at the bar. Only half a step below professional bowler on the attractiveness to women scale.
My cohorts tried to comfort me by saying that if I had to lose, at least it was to someone impressive. This failed miserably. I can’t lose, even to this guy. This is much too important. A woman like this comes around once in a lifetime, if we’re lucky. And I can’t let her just go. I can’t.
No comments:
Post a Comment