I feel pressure, most days, to write something meaningful and important on this blog. Something thought provoking and intelligent. I think I’m going to just give up on that and just write about…well, anything.
So today, you’re treated to a story about this guy I met.
Let’s call him, “Jess.” I have no fear that he will find this because I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know my last name – how in the world would he find a blog?
So I met Jess recently while out with the girls. He seemed very nice. He’s from the NE and has a thick accent. He’s a good looking, Italian guy.
Sounds great, right?
Jess oozed with “sales.” And turned out, he’s a salesman. Well, he made sure to immediately correct me. He’s the “general manager of sales.” He had recently moved here and was just meeting people.
Being relatively new here and still looking for friends, I welcomed this potential friendship! I exchanged phone numbers and looked forward to my new friend reaching out.
That bright and sparkly hope quickly diminished. Jess seems to think that calling someone he doesn’t know at hours like 2 a.m., or 3 a.m. or 5 a.m. (on work nights) is the way to make friends.
The first time I just shrugged it off. But after the 4th time, I was annoyed. He laughs it off each time and says, “oops!”
Wait, there’s more.
This guy, who like I’ve already mentioned, hasn’t even asked my last name. But he calls me his BFF. When he has managed to call at normal waking hours, I’ve picked up and talked.
Ha. Sorry, I’ve listened. I don’t get to do much talking.
He talks a lllllllllllllllllllooooooooooooooooooooot.
Like for instance, we were on the phone the other night for 47 minutes and I spoke maybe 60 seconds.
It’s like he takes a breath and just doesn’t.stop.talking.about.anything.
He decided, after three weeks here, that he’s moving back home. And kids, he was telling me this after week 1. He hadn’t even started work yet.
Now, I know Nashville isn’t for everyone but it’s not that bad.
He said (multiple times) that Southern people were “dumb as @#$k” and said, “no offense.” I allowed that, like, twice then politely requested he stop insulting where I’m from.
Quickly, my idea of having a NE friend that I could become best friends with and eventually move back NE meaning that I could live in a closer vicinity to NY was disappearing. And instead, I was filled with regret.
We have plans to go out on Saturday night.
But I’m feeling sick.
Ellen gets it.