Picture it, 1995 (thank you, Sofia from Golden Girls).
T’was the summer between my freshman and sophomore year in college.
I was 19 with a renewed sense of confidence and independence and back working at one of the neighborhood pools as a lifeguard.
A respectable job with the added benefits of a rocking tan and a constant social swarm of hot friends.
Those less fortunate donned hits of basal cell carcinoma mixed UVB and UVA rays and SPF 50+.
The latter did not apply in my case.
A fresh high school graduate had his eye on me and was bound and determined to ask me on a date.
And so he did.
Over and over again.
Like a kid with a bucket on his head running into walls.
Over and over again.
Persistent he was.
Uninterested was I.
The multiple asks.
My plethora of loaded ammunition and excuses as to why I wasn’t available rescinded.
He was relentless.
I was new at dating…
But, I knew I wasn’t interested in dating him.
After all, he was into nunchucks, martial arts, Sci-Fi, magic and dark comedy.
I was into Saved by the Bell, Red Hot Chili Peppers and working on my perpetual summer tan.
He’d ask me out while I was working a pool shift.
I pulled out excuse after excuse in my deep bag of scripted declines.
Probably something about studying for one of my summer school classes (btw, who studied in summer school?).
He’d call the pool and ask me out.
I relented back with more seemingly horrid excuses.
He’d beg a friend of mine to convince me I should give him a chance.
And, THEN he did the absolute unfortunate move.
He found my parents home phone digits.
He called the house and my parents gave me the phone.
I was caught off guard, and there was no way out.
I had to go on a real date with this character.
And, so I did.
But not after throwing a temper tantrum minutes before he picked me up.
I mean, a real private, hard-core tantrum pleading with God as to why I had to do this.
Begging him to send me someone I was actually interested in.
And, because of my juvenile antics at 19 as to not go on a date with this pour soul, karma has bitten me bad.Probably punishment from the Ninja.
Like some voodoo doll hoax or something.
He’s put some sort of spell on me arranging for Cupid to always miss his shot on me.
And so ,while I sometimes aimlessly trot through this life, I can’t help but recall if all my excuses and rejections surrounding the Ninja’s requests to court me at age 19 are now haunting me 16 years later?
That’s got to be it, right?