Everything's Nebulous

"It’s nebulous outside,” he said as he peered through the windows. He spun his 6’5” frame around and smiled gleefully. “By the way, I’ve read the dictionary.” (I’m sitting on the couch, staring, mouth wide open.) “And if you don’t understand what I mean sometimes, please don’t be ashamed to ask. I have an extensive vocabulary.”

This memory flashes in my memory as I excitedly anticipate the start of college football season. And it’s only funny if you’re a word geek like me.

I dated this man (boy?) years after he’d kicked the winning field goal (or was it an extra point?) at a huge college football bowl game that shall remain nameless to protect the innocent. I was in the stands. I didn’t know him at the time. But years later, he was HOT.

I met him in the elevator of my office building. I was riding down with a group of friends. “Fish” was the only other guy in the elevator. “Football guy” complimented him on the selection of women he called colleagues. “Fish” said: “They’re a pain in the ass - pick one.” ‘Football guy’ picked me.

It had been – oh – a year since my last date. Looking back, I was cute. But I was pretty much unavailable for a number of reasons. And I was teased mercilessly by my two bosses for the fact that I hadn’t had a date in a while (ok, a year). So my colleagues were shocked that this tall, green-eyed hunk had picked the non-descript brunette out of an elevator-full of hotties.

We went on a few dates. We had football in common – that was good. We also had words in common. Sort of: he misused words he’d memorized from the dictionary; words I used properly at work on a daily basis. But he was perpetually unemployed yet lived in an exclusive high-rise on Brickell in Miami.

His friends thought I was the best thing ever for him. My friends just thought he was hot.

So…I took him to the office holiday party. Secretly? I wished I’d brought duct tape. Y’know…to impede his uncontrollable misuse of big words. But he sat at our table of minions and charmed us all. Then he started mingling and dancing with everyone. He was charming.

I went to the bathroom and bumped into the wives of my two bosses. “Wow, Jennifer. That guy: he’s a catch. So hot – the hottest guy at the party,” they said. Never mind that their husbands – my bosses – were at the party.

The next day? I “broke up” with him. And I told my bosses that their wives thought he was hot – to make the teasing stop.

Him? I kinda felt bad. He stalked my colleagues for a few weeks. He even sang romantic rock ballads into my voicemail. Sweet.

Me? I stayed single for a few years. I moved to San Francisco, lived a pretty happy lifetime.

Now? We’re back to “nebulous.” Including the prospect of the Miami Hurricanes’ 2009 football season.