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Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter
© 2004
Calendar Boy’s Invisible Itch

The guy sitting on his back porch waved as my car came into view. I waved back with a frown. Why couldn’t I find a radio station that wasn’t blaring commercials? I stopped at the stop sign in front of the cute guy’s house. When did music become such a commodity? I started fumbling around for a CD.

The twenty-something-year-old hottie held up his beer bottle and yelled, “WAIT.”

I slammed on the breaks from the mid-acceleration I had started. Was I about to run over a cat? Hit a car? Go plummeting off a cliff?

He stood up and walked over to my car, slowly. Very slowly. His muscles were tucked nicely into his tight shirt and his tight pants were snug in all the right places. He bent down next to my window and charmed, “We’ve got something going on.”

I felt like I was in a beer commercial. You know. Where some strange hot model-man walks up to a car and talks about his beer.

“Yeah?” I asked, nonchalantly.

“We’ve been waving at each other now since I moved in, two weeks ago.” He smiled, letting his eyes twinkle.

“Yeah?” Had I ever seen him before? I don’t drive this way very much. I tried to rack my brain. Don't think I’ve seen him before. Twenty something. Really hot twenty something. Like a calendar model hot twenty something. Drinking beer at noon. Seems like that would ring a bell.

“Thought it was time for me to introduce myself.” He thrust his hand forward. “I’m Derek.”

I left his hand there. He was messing with me. Hey. Two can play this game. “I’ve seen you before?”

“Yup.” He said, pulling his hand back. “And my friends bet me a hundred bucks I wouldn’t talk to you. Said you weren’t my type. You were too classy for me.”

I couldn’t stop the big smile from growing across my face. His friends first thought was that I was too classy for him, not that I was too old at thirty nine? Wow. They only thought I was too classy? Wow. That’s kinda cool. I had to admit. That was kinda cool.

Um. I should’ve been alarmed. He and his friends had been watching me. But. I wondered what else his friends thought. “You and your friends have been watching me?”

“Yup. You ok with that?” He asked, tipping his bottle up for a swig. “We’re good guys. You don’t have to be afraid or anything. We just thought you were pretty, so we had a little competition to see who would talk to you first.”

Oh. Ok. Like. I’m kinda pretty for a grandmother type? Is that what he was saying? And. What’s this about a competition? Something tells me he has to do more than chat me up to collect.

“So.” He said, as he reached his hand under his shirt to scratch an invisible itch.

The expression on my face didn’t change but I was laughing inside. He was doing a sweet little maneuver to show off his washboard stomach muscles. Yes. They looked great. But. I wasn’t melting.

“So.” He repeated, lowering his voice. “You want a beer?”

I laughed. “No. Thanks. I’m going to drive away now. But. It was nice to meet you, Derek. Guess now I’ll know who I’m waving to, right?”

He turned towards the house. I couldn’t see anybody there, but figured they were inside watching. He lifted his shirt up, showing off perfect pecs. “Do you think I need to work out more?”

I looked at his finely sculpted chest. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

He quickly dropped his shirt and stared at me.

Ok. I’d better leave. No reason to beat him up. Poor Calendar-boy was only trying to be alluring. It wasn’t his fault I wasn’t buying propositions today. It had nothing to do with the goods. They did look delicious.

“Come on.” He said, trying out his throaty voice. He propped his elbow on the window of my car. “Have a beer with me. Just you and me. You look thirsty.”

I laughed. “No. Thanks. I only drink wine. And. I only drink wine with my boyfriend. But. Thanks for the chat. Bye.”

I gently hit the accelerator. As I pulled away I heard him call out “WAIT.” Having no interest in plummeting off that cliff, I didn’t stop or hesitate or even check the rearview mirror for one last look.

The way I see it, meeting new people ensures stimulating conversation in relationships. I couldn’t wait to start the new topic.

I waited till after dinner to ask my boyfriend. “Do you think, if I weren’t dating you, I could date a male calendar model?”

Cool-guy squinted his eyes as he studied my face. “No. You’re too old.”

“What if one wanted me?”

He threw his head back and laughed a good, hard laugh. “Well. What would you possibly talk about?”

“Oh. You know.” I said, mysteriously. Beer. And muscles. And the art of waving.”

“Don’t worry, honey.” He laughed again. “It’ll never happen.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “You’re right.” I started clearing the table. “We’d never spend our time talking. We’d be far too busy.”

Wanna try another column? How about #183Rhetorical Dead Head Advice which is about going to a dead head concert.

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