Somewhere Around the Rainbow

If I were single, I would hate this guy.  Women love him.  I take that back, about a third of the women he meets love him, a third are kind of irritated by him and a third look at him with the kind of fascination usually reserved for train wrecks, reality TV shows and natural disasters.  But that is not why I would hate him.  It's because he knows which is which.

He can tell.  I never could.  In school I might have known a girl, and after talking to her years later, would find she had a crush on me, and wondered why I never asked her out.  Sweetheart, it was 'cause I'm clueless.

He can tell, and he knows his odds. 

One weekend, years ago, we had a woman's hiking group staying with us at the lodge.  My buddy caught wind of the event, dusted off his cowboy hat, and came a running.  Thirty women?  He could count on at least ten fawning over him.  He could hardly get here fast enough. 

He spent an entire evening schmoozing and "working the crowd".

Nothing.

Nada.

Zip.

No hits.
 
Thirty strikes and you're OUT.

Late in the evening a couple of the gals put on a show they did professionally.    Life and times of Calamity Jane.  The rest of the gals, Juanita and I and my buddy were the audience.  Great show, very funny and informative.  About half way through the show, he leaned over to me and said "They are all gay, aren't they."  Wasn't a question, really.  "Yep" I replied.  He smiled, leaned back in his chair and really started to enjoy the show.

I probably should have told him that the group was a lesbian hiking club, before he spent so much time and energy, but damn.

 I thought he could tell.




Bill