Ok, one more thing for today. This was told to me by the amazingly cool Scot McKay of X & Y Communications. We were chatting, and I mentioned a girl I’d kinda “blown it” with. I spotted her on Facebook (she was a friend’s friend), contacted her, and ended up meeting her for lunch. It went great, and we ended up having a noontime drink (ooh, taboo!) at a cool dive bar. At this point, it was clear that in addition to being smoking hot, this woman was intelligent and witty, with really interesting and eclectic interests. In the course of the conversation, the subject of smoking hookah came up, and she invited me back to her place to smoke hers. Oh snap, it’s on! Right? Well, probably, as long as Clark doesn’t drop the ball. Which I did.

We went back to her place, broke out the hookah and tobacco, sat on the couch, started smoking, and… I wussed out. I sat next to her so that we were thigh-to-thigh, but I was seized by nervousness and couldn’t make a move. I didn’t understand what was going on - this sort of hesitation isn’t typical for me (at least, not anymore), and I could feel the clock ticking down the seconds until my manhood was irretrievably lost. It took a whole hookah-smoke’s worth of time and a TV show before I finally kissed her. We began to make out, and I thought that I’d just barely scraped by despite my unforgivable wimpiness, but alas. A little making out, a little talking, and then she very gently and politely booted me out around 8. And not in an “It’s getting late, but OMG I’m dying to see you again for realz” way.

Granted, not too long ago I’d have been blown away by the idea of randomly hollering at a girl on Facebook, getting a date, and ending up making out back at her place. But now… what sticks is that I was a wimp. She sat there on that couch, waiting for me to be a man and make the move that we both wanted made. When I didn’t, it made me look (and feel) weak, nervous, and indecisive. At the end of the night, it came up that there was some guy in a different city that she was kind of into, and she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to (or could) pursue something with him. Ouch.

Anyway, I was telling all this to Scot, and he honed in on the fact that I was looking at this other guy like he was competition (I already understood what I’d actually done wrong during the date, so we didn’t spend too much time on that). Here’s what he said:

In Week 16 of the 2006 NFL season, the Vikings, the Redskins, and the Saints all had a shot at the playoffs.* All the Vikings had to do was win their next game, and they’d be in. The Redskins would get in only if they won their next game AND the Vikings lost theirs. The Saints would get in only if they won their next game AND both the Vikings and Redskins lost theirs. As Scot talked, I jotted down this diagram:

_______

+V –> V playoffs

_______

+R –> R playoffs

-V

_______

+S –> S playoffs

-V

-R

_______

Scot asked which team I’d most like to be. I said the Vikings, and I was right. All three teams have to win to get into the playoffs, but the Vikings are the only team whose prospects don’t also depend on other teams losing. The Vikings’ victory or defeat is all on their shoulders and no one else’s. Scot’s point was that if I’m out with the girl, then I don’t have to worry about whatever other guy is on her radar. I’m the Vikings - if she’s out with me, then I’ve got my shot and it’s all on me. The other guy can’t touch me. He’s the Redskins - he doesn’t affect whether I get to the playoffs, and I have to blow my shot if he’s going to have one. And, of course, somewhere out there are the Saints - some random guy who will get his shot if both of us drop the ball. I took my shot and didn’t do so well, giving the Redskins (i.e., other dude) an opportunity.

Now, this girl was awesome and I’d like to get her know her better (and more intimately), but my life will hardly come crashing down if we don’t end up getting together. That being said, I ain’t done yet. I may have dropped the ball, but my information says that the Redskins didn’t play too well either, and I haven’t heard about the Saints scoring a big win. I think it’s still anyone’s game. I’ll drop her a line inviting her to come do something fun, and the next time we go out, I won’t drop the ball. That’s what’s up.

Thanks for reading, guys.

Cheers,
Clark

*I may get the actual details of the sports metaphor wrong - the teams, year, or whatever. It won’t affect Scot’s point.