I’m A Loser, Baby!

You want to know how I’m a loser?  Oh, in so many ways!  And one of them better be good!

I have a new friend to introduce to you.  His name is Miguel.  He’s been around forever but I’ve never had the opportunity to write much about him.  Now I do. 

On Friday afternoon I received a phone call from Miguel.  We went through the pleasantries and then Miguel asked, “What do you have going on this weekend?”

“Not much.  How about you,” I replied. 

“Well, tomorrow I’m going to meet you on the Greenway at 10:00 to walk, have lunch with you in Green Hills (Chipotle!) and then we are going to walk around the mall.”

“Oh.  I had no idea.  I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

We met at 10:00 and because it had been raining in Nashville for a couple of hours, our walk didn’t happen.  However, Miguel got crafty and persuasive and challenged me to a series of athletic contests instead of walking on the boring old treadmill.  Apparently, I have nothing to prove, no pride, no gumption, nothing because here, my friends, is where I fail. 

LOSER:  We played a game of H-O-R-S-E.  I had H-O-R-S-E and Miguel had H-O-R-S.  I was proud of that seeing as how I throw like a girl and have never played basketball in my life.  I was the manager of the boy’s basketball team in college but I pretty much only did that for two reasons:  Chris O’Bryan and to get paid.  I got over Chris O’Bryan before too long seeing as how he was taken but the getting paid part was quite handy for a couple of years.   Anyway, what I learned from that position was more how to get sweat out of uniforms and how to fill water bottles and not any basketball tricks.  Clearly.    

LOSER:  Miguel beat me by about a minute on the one-mile elliptical race we had.  I really should have won that one seeing as how I OWN that machine at least one day a week.  I do lunges.  I run.  I lift weights.  That machine should have been my bitch.  But it wasn’t. 

LOSER:  Miguel and I challenged each other to a push-up contest next.  He did the real ones and I did the Jimmie ones.  I could have kept going but he gave out after a few which I was pretty gloaty about.  WINNER!  Then we thought it would be interesting to see how many real ones I could do.  LOSER.  Not even one . . .  

LOSER:  Miguel opted for one more game of H-O-R-S-E.  Naturally I got H-O-R-S-E and he was just a H-O.  I think he was pretty proud of that, for more than one reason. 

LOSER:  At least I had better be.  Before that entire American Gladiator-type workout with Miguel, I ran almost five miles on the Greenway.  I’m still training for the ½ marathon (and just realized that almost none of you have nagged me even a little) so I needed to get that time in.  Besides, I knew that Miguel wouldn’t run with me, mostly because he said “Aw, hell naw!” when I asked him.  This was before the monsoon.  The weather was perfect for a run – very cloudy and overcast.  I mean, I still sweated like a hog but it was nice.  About halfway through my run, when I was past the point of turning around to go back, the bottom dropped out and I got soaked.   

I’ll call myself a LOSER on that whole running event, not because I got soaked but because all of that stuff had better show up (or not, depending on how you look at it) on the scale.  That is the kind of LOSER that counts. 

And finally . . . . Eh, I can’t tell on this one:  LOSER most likely.  After all of our calisthenics and lunch and shopping, I thought I would sit out the thunderstorms (monsoons) in the café where I go to write.  I found my favorite spot and got all settled in, but not before a seemingly nice, kind of runty man sitting near me gave me a big grin and said, “Hey.” 

I responded with “Hello.”  I told you, I don’t meet strangers.  Maybe I should.

“I’ve seen you in here.  I’m Chuck.  What’s your name?” 


“Jimmie, are you single?” This right here?  This is a lesson I should learn!  This is where I speak before I think!  This is where, when you are out with me in public, you give me a kick in the shin. 

“Yep.”  Heaven, help me.  I have such a big mouth. 

“I think you are cute.  Would you like to go out sometime?” 

“Um, well, I don’t really know you plus I have a height thing.” I was completely floundering and this was the best I could come up with?

“I’m about 5’8”. I love tall women.  I love it when they wear heels and all that.” 

And here I have to explain that while you as a man may have no issue dating a taller woman, I as a woman do.  “Ooh, sorry, I’m completely flattered, really but I just cannot date someone shorter than me.  I really have a thing about it.” 

“Oh, okay.”   

I don’t think I destroyed him too badly because he got up to come shake my hand.  Then he looked down at my feet and said, “You have cute toes.”


“Well, are you sure you won’t go out with me?”

“You know, this is very nice, very sweet.  But I just can’t.  I’m sorry.” 

“Okay, well, you are really hot.  I’ll see you around.”

Okay, so see?  I’m not really sure how this one fits.  I am completely flattered and complimented and that is always nice.  However, I suspect he’s one of those guys who plays the numbers game. Ask 100 women out and compliment their toes (?) and surely one of them will say yes.  But because I’m trying out this self-confidence thing, I’m going to say WINNER.  Right?  Who’s with me on this one?


8 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. amy
    Jun 21, 2011 @ 18:53:14

    this is great….i love it!!!


  2. Will
    Jun 21, 2011 @ 23:26:10

    “I don’t really know you plus I have a height thing”? Oooo, harsh.


  3. Auntie Anne
    Jun 22, 2011 @ 09:47:23

    You do know that if your mother had had your problem, you wouldn’t exist…


  4. Martie
    Jun 22, 2011 @ 21:54:03

    It’s so cool that I’m the “midget” of the family at 5’8″, and I got to marry Coach, a 6’3″ drink of water! Yay me! (no offense to any little people, as I was calling myself a midget, not you, and besides it was Madre who originally called me that anyway, so if you wanna take that on be my guest!)


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