Where Do These People Come From?

It is not my style to publicize personal conversations, but this morning I had such a doozie that I have to share it.

Over the past few months, I have received random text messages on my cell phone asking about my mother, wishing me and my family merry x-mas, happy easter and all that jazz. Since the phone number had a 917 area code, I assumed it was a friend of mine from law school who lives and works in New York. Last night, I was at a party and was texting a friend who was on her way to the club and noticed the 917 number. I thought to myself, I haven't heard from Eric in a while, so I texted asking him how he is doing. It should have been a clue it wasn't Eric when I got an immediate reply (seeing as it would have been 1:00 a.m. in NY), but I wasn't thinking. The reply said call me, so I responded that I would call in the morning.

As I dialed the phone this morning, it occurred to me that the 917 number might not be Eric, but I had no idea who else it could be. The voice on the other end of the phone confirmed it wasn't Eric, but now I was in the midst of a conversation with a voice completely unfamiliar to me. So, as all women do, I faked it. :-) "How are you, how is work...." It was not until he asked me if I had hung out with mutual colleagues lately that I finally placed the voice with the phone number. Doh!

He was a guy I met at a professional networking function and who had taken me along as a sidekick to some networking party for a popular magazine. The party was lame, he was dull and superficial, so I told him I needed to get home to hubby and left the party after less than an hour. Haven't spoken since.

Now I have an identity, so I can play catch up. "Oh, I texted you because I realized it had been a while since I checked in and said hello." It was half-true. His response - "I just assumed that your husband intercepted one of my messages and forbid you from speaking to me."

What?

"I don't know what juvenile, insecure world you hang in", I responded, "but my husband knows very well he has absolutely nothing to worry about. Ever!"

You would think that would be the end of the topic, but it wasn't.

"We'll see. One day, I'll invite you and your husband to meet me at Venice Beach and I won't have a shirt on, and we'll see if he lets you talk to me again."

WHAT????????????????????????????????

I was speechless and it took me a second to grasp the reality of what he just said.

Then I started laughing (I am still laughing). I told him we would both think he was a foolio if he did that. "What is a foolio"?, he asked. "A foolio is one of those LA types who is so enamored with himself and so vain that he is like the bimbo chicks in the clubs who show a lot cleavage. Those types claim to be hetero, but they spend more time in the mirror then most women I know. Anyhoo, they are probably showing off their muscles to compensate for inadequacies elsewhere."

The puddle-deep intellect mustered up "well, what if I am comfortable without a shirt on when I am at the beach?" "That's fine and well, but we would still enjoy a good laugh at your expense."

With that, I politely ended the conversation.

I barely know this guy and he thinks he's so hot and studly that my husband would find him threatening. My husband would think he is as retarded as I think he is. Where the hell do these people come from? Where? On what planet do they breed such arrogant, narcissistic a-holes and then plant them here? What kind of parenting produces this?

And it's not like he's a GQ Model or anything. I have plenty of male friends who are 100x hotter than that foolio.