Tag Archives: marisa tomei

The Landscaper Guy and a Phone Smarter Than Me — Part III

I had just pulled into my spot at the back of my yard after running errands.   I had three gallons of milk in the back and it was hot outside.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see white — a walking big white tee-shirt with a matching designed white scarf on his head.

The Landscaper Guy.  See Not Digging the Landscaper Guy, Part I and The Landscaper Guy and The Female Chandler Bing Part II.

Since my last post on the Landscaper Guy, I’d had some major emotional (fall out from the Ex’s pending remarriage) and minor medical issues (son’s surgery to repair a fractured thumb) keeping me busy.  The Landscaper Guy was not occupying my mind.

I  do think he, as promised, called.   But I  also got a new phone in the interim as well.  My old phone would register his call as “WITHHELD”  whereas my new phone says something like “REJECTED” when it is an unreadable number.   Me thinks my new phone is truly a smart phone, perhaps smarter than me, as it seemed to know that this dude should be and should have been REJECTED all along.

I did not answer any rejected calls and he never left a message and I let it go.

But today, there he was.   Ambling down the alley behind my house.   I was still with no makeup but  I had on a fitted Victoria’s Secret Pink Tee and skinny jeans which seemed to empower me, somehow.   He had on his signature tee-shirt and, of course, the sweat.

My choices were:

1.   Slowly get out of the car and deal with him, or

2.   Try to make a run for it.

Guess what I chose?   But, I didn’t make it.   Damn, I need some privacy plantings.   As I walked briskly to my back door looking straight ahead (leaving the milk in the car), he called out my name.  Damn.

So, I ambled back down my walk  and went to talk to him, hopefully for the last time.

Now that I got a better look at him, or maybe I felt a little better about myself, maybe it was my purple PINK  tee, I don’t know which, and maybe you are not supposed to say this, but,  I’m out of his league.   Sorry.  Me with five kids, no make-up, emotional problems up the ying yang,  yes, I’m saying  it’s not  gonna happen, not even to help me practice date.

We exchanged pleasantries.  Then,

Him:  “You been thinking about me?”

Me:  “Not really.”

Him, shaking his head, “No, huh.”

Me: “No.”

Him:  “So that means we can’t go on a date?”

Really?  Is this guy serious?

Me: “No”

Him: “Why?”

Now, here’s where I wonder.   Why ask why?   It is what it is.   Just make your exit, dude. 

Then I repeated the supposedly magic words that I was told to say by a single relative of mine. Well, she’s my niece.  I’m taking dating advice from my niece, the daughter of my sister!!!!  (Channeling Marisa Tomei’s Oscar Winning performance  in My Cousin Vinny.  If you don’t know the reference, watch the movie.  It is hilarious.)

Anyway, she said this would work, and I said:

     “I’m just not into hanging out right now.   I’m flattered, though.”

Game over — or should be, right?

Him:   No, you’re not.   (flattered, he meant)

Me:   Yes, I am.   (changing subject)  So, are you on your way downtown?

Him:   Yeah.  (Proceeds to give me the date when he’s done school  for the Summer).

And then he asked, remarkably:   “So you want to give me a ride to the train?”


Me:  You know what, I just got home, so . . . no.

We exchange pleasantries, much more awkwardly this time, and he went on his way.

The thing is, I’ll probably see him again.   What are the chances he’ll just keep walking?   I certainly hope he does.

I do  feel good  about saying, no, though.

Just Me With . . .  a smart phone much smarter than me.