Umpire Man texted me tonight.
"Are we okay?"
I guess he was feeling insecure after he asked me two days ago when he could see me and I didn't reply.
But, are we okay? This implies a lot of things (okay, mainly one thing) I don't want to think about.
We? Really. We met one time. We are not a we.
So I replied: "We? I'm doing good. I've moved to the town I went to college in." Slight exaggeration but I'm going with it anyway.
"I'll miss you; you were intelligent and cute as hell."
I thanked him and wished him the best of luck. (What do you say that, really? Except thank you and best of luck?)
To me, this is the end of a conversation. If you and I were drinking coffee and you left and I waved and said, "Thank you. Best of luck to you!" that would be the end. Well, you might wave back. But still. No more talking.
A minute later..."Are you there?"
Yes, Umpire Man. I am.
"You are a sexy cat."
A sexy cat. I've been called a lot of things including a loud mouth bitch just last night but never a sexy cat.
I replied with the standard, "lol" and he said, "Why?"
"Because I only met you once," I said. I wanted to say, "Good night, I'm going to bed" but I was afraid that would open a whole other can of worms.
"Yes but you had a cute ass."
There's this thing called sexting and I think he was trying his darndest. "Are you ready to take it further?" he asked.
Am I really having this conversation right now?
In light of my recent encounters with men, it's amazing that I'm not a complete manhater. Because at moments like these I want to be so bad. Seriously. What kind of egotistical, chauvanistic man thinks I'd actually be interested in communicating like this?
"No, I'm not," I replied. "Good luck, though, with someone else."
No reply. And that's good. Because my little brother had texted my bigger-little brother the guy's number and they were ready to take care of the situation themselves.
That's my kind of man.