This is a short story about what I do for ladies.
When I was younger, I was a basketball stud. I’ve mentioned it a couple of times, and yes, I’m still proud. I enjoy playing even now, but I’m trying not to until I lose 50 pounds. For the knees.
Anyway, being good at basketball got me elected homecoming king. I’m gonna say it was being good at basketball, because lets face it, my looks really weren’t a factor. As Andy Bernard says, “Any real success I’ve had with the ladies or anything has come from my ability to slowly and painfully wear someone down.” So I was elected. My queen was named, well, The Queen. We’ll just say that. The Queen was in one of those WAY too serious high school relationships. You know, been dating since the 3rd grade, and just somehow made it through high school. Those never last, but in her case, it has. Last I read, she’s married to the guy and they have kids.
On to the homecoming. I was told before hand that I couldn’t kiss her. Apparently, boyfriend was having none of that. Boyfriend wasn’t really bigger than me, but I still didn’t wanna cause trouble. Why start something if you aren’t sure if you can win the fight, right? So I made up my mind. When I presented her with her flowers and stuff, I was going to kneel down as grandiosely as possible, take her hand in mine, and give it a big sloppy wet kiss. Maybe even with tongue. Just to embarrass her, right? Right.
So the music starts, the other people walk out, and it’s now our turn. I walk slowly across the gym to fetch her, and when I get there? SHE’S CRYING. That’s right, crying. She looks at me and sobbed, “Travis, oh god, please don’t do anything to embarrass me.”
WHAT?!?!
Who gave this chick a copy of my plans?!
So I get her arm, walk her down the aisle, and give her her flowers, and then………..I shook hands with her. That’s right. I’m the only homecoming king in the history of said kings to shake hands with his queen. I totally vajayed out. It was worthless. There was a big picture in the paper of me just shaking her hand. Worthless.
As it turns out, it’s one of my regrets. I should have kissed her. Right on the lips. I didn’t do it though, well, because I’m basically a nice guy, and a woman crying can have her way with me pretty much any day.
Oh yeah. Boyfriend? He never showed up…
Douche…