A.G. Phone Boy

I was up to my eyeballs in bubbles. At 7:15 p.m. I had already downed not one, but two glasses of White Zinfandel.

And not like wine glass size either. Like regular glass size.

By all accounts, it wasn’t a very classy bubble bath. Not like the ones you see in movies.

I blame it on my rubber ducky shower curtain and the fact that my tub isn’t even long enough for me to extend my legs while sitting. That and I was drinking wine out of a Jimmy John’s plastic cup.

Still, I was totally trying to have one of those wine and bubble bath movie moments.

Then it happened. The Marquette Fight Song, “Ring Out Ahoya” ringing from my cell phone. It was time. I had a gentleman caller.

Not quite. It was just my best friend Lauren seeing if she could spook me into thinking the moment of my phone date had finally arrived. Figures.

I’m not the type of girl to wait by the phone for a guy to call. The last time I can honestly say I did it the phone call didn’t arrive until around 2:30 a.m. and all my friends declared him a piece of “couch material” upon hearing my reenactment of the phone conversation.

If there’s anything you don’t want, you don’t want my friends to call you couch material. It’s not good.

Monday night I found myself back in the waiting by the phone saddle again. Only this time I’d never had that stammering, heart pounding, “Oh my goodness I’m going to pass out” with this guy in person. Just emails and a couple of photos spread out in the world of online Catholic dating.

From the Catholic Herald to the Y to the bottle of wine to the bathtub, the questions would not stop hounding me…

Will he laugh like Urkel?

Will he put words together like Ozzy Osbourne or more like Anderson Cooper?

Will his accent be so thick I can’t understand him—ala Sean Connery?

Will our conversation be so painful I’ll constantly be doing the awkward turtle?

Thankfully the date fell on the same night of the State of the Union address. Five minutes of that in my mom’s old recliner and I was out like a light. All phone date worries aside.

Until 9:18. When my phone was ringing out ahoya yet again.

It was either fight or flight. And I chose fight.

Or rather. To answer.

On the other end, a delightful, yet slight southern drawl greeted me. Which for any woman I think would put her at ease. And with that 56 minutes ticked by. No Ozzy Osbourne sentences. No Urkel laughs. No awkward turtles. Just a guy and girl. Trying to get to know one another.