Two weeks ago, I stood up in front of a group of strangers (and my boss) and told the story of the Doctor Who Bit Me. If you remember, the Doctor was the 12th man I dated after my best friend's husband challenged me to go on dates with 20 men before I stared looking for "the one."
The crowd was suitably amused, and my boss was suitably horrified. I walked out of that room feeling pretty darn good, with a free t-shirt under my arm and an invitation to come back to compete again for a really cool prize. It was awesome.
I got home and checked Facebook. I thought I'd go ahead and RSVP to the invitation stuffing party for a charity event. When...horror of horrors, I notice that the Doctor is also RSVPed to attend.
But, the drama doesn't end there. #8 - Pee Boy is also on the RSVP. I haven't thought about him for years! (Nor have I wanted to.)
Also helping out with this charity event are #3 (The Republican) and #17 (The Man.) Seriously. Four men I've dated are helping out with this one charity event.
Four.
F-O-U-R.
This is not four men out of hundreds. That would be statistically strange, but not beyond belief. This is four men out of 20, in a city of 4.4 million people. (The always accurate Wikipedia puts the population of Boston "proper" at just under 650,000, but since neither I, nor many of these bachelors actually live in the city, I'm using the numbers for Greater Boston.)
As far as I know, none of these four men know each other. (I suppose that's a silver lining?) None of them dumped me. (Also a silver lining.) One of the four is now a good friend, who might be willing to defend my honor should the other three get out of hand.
I'm sure when this charity event arrives in early December, I'll be able to blend into the crowd. I'll have a glass of wine and pretend that the Doctor isn't leering at me, and that the Man isn't sad, and that Pee Boy....
Well, there's nothing to do about Pee Boy except to wish that he didn't exist. It's bedtime now. I'll have to explain that one later.
No comments:
Post a Comment