“You are starting to rub off on me,” Ted said with a smirk as he looked down at the tag hanging out of his shirt.
“Well, everyone wants to be like me I boasted loudly with silly pride”. His face half amused said game on, let the bantering begin. I was ready. Quickly, I scanned the bar looking to engage an audience, but the room was flat. Of all the times he had teased me for wearing my shirt inside out causing me to spring into some kind of Houdini act to fix the mishap and I was in this lame bar with a bartender that had no sense of humor. So much for my punch line, I mused to myself and then fixated my attention on the slow-moving person behind the bar. After what felt like an eternity, I ordered my martini and Ted ordered his tonic and lime and we headed to the outside patio.
As I sipped my martini, ok gulped my martini, I reminded Ted of how lucky he was to have me. Unphased, he looked straight at me, and settled into his seat, patiently waiting for me to explain. He was accustomed to philosophical monologues that seemed to flow with the spirits. “I mean, you are lucky I am not like that boring bartender, that can’t take a joke,” I said.
“I couldn’t be with someone like that “He agreed.
“Not only is she boring,” I continued, “but she is slow, and it isn’t even busy. I used to wait tables; I know what good service should be like. Maybe I should wait tables again”, I said sarcastically. “I mean college and my career didn’t go exactly as I thought it would.”
“Being a server would interrupt dance lessons and other hobbies,” Ted said plainly like a well-rehearsed line that he had practiced one too many times.
“Oh, I know,” I continued, “I guess I am just a little disappointed with this demotion”. I said looking over at Ted who adjusted his seat position to get more comfortable.
“True, I am less stressed than I was in my last position. That is good… right?” I said looking over at Ted, not really for an answer, but for an opportunity to catch my breath. “I like it better and there are fewer details to track, but I wish it offered more upward mobility. I don’t like being stuck,” I continued. “I want to make more money. Even though I am working the same number of hours, maybe less anxiety will give me more energy to focus on my writing,” I said in self-encouragement.
“The problem is that I keep starting books but get bored or distracted by life in general. How can I expect to engage readers when I cannot keep myself engaged? What if I am getting bored with my writing because it isn’t any good? Do you think I can write?” I asked casually peering back at Ted softening my voice in an attempt to conceal my desperate need for validation.
“Uhuh,” he quickly interjected as his attention shifted to something on his phone.
“Promise me you are not just saying that to be a good boyfriend” I pleaded.
“I promise,” he said in the most assuring voice he could convey.
“It would be nice to get some feedback from someone a little more impartial. You know someone I am not sleeping with,” I said coyly.” From what I have read, “I continued” a lot of people self-publish and have a blog that they can share with a real audience, but I don’t want to have someone steal my work. I guess that doesn’t matter if I never finish my novel. “ I said thinking out loud. “Maybe I should test-run my skills with a blog instead. From what I read you need to pick a niche, but I don’t think I could write about the same topic over and over and over again. I would get so bored. Do you think I have Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)?” I asked bouncing the topic.
“Yes”, Ted said emphatically without hesitation.
“Wow that was a fast answer”, I said joking. “How can you be so sure?” I inquired.
“How couldn’t I?” Ted said with a playful grin, “especially after learning this weekend that your childhood nickname was Dinglefritz. Maybe that is what you should write about. You could title it Dinglefritz my ADHD Story.”
“I like that idea,” I said ignoring the negative connotation. “I know what the word Dinglefritz means, but I have never really looked it up. I don’t think I have ever heard the word used in a context other than my nickname. Have you ever heard of anyone using the word Dinglefritz? Is it even a real word?” I asked and before I could complete my question the race was on. We both hopped on our phones to google the word.
“Got it!” said Ted victoriously. “Dinglefritz- “a whacko dipstick who needs to be slapped by a trout.” says urbandictionary.com.”
“Yikes, that is worse than I thought. Reading that certainly wasn’t a confidence booster” I said wryly. “However, the title …would be memorable, but do I really want to further associate myself with that word?”
“Sure, you do! Own it! Keep the blog light. Make it funny.” Ted advised.
“You are right!” I said with new vigor! “After all, not everyone is as lucky as you,” I reminded him pausing for dramatic effect.
“Is that so?” Ted asked waiting for the educational seminar on “Jenn” to start.
“Yes, more people should learn what a great sense of humor I have now that my personality has developed. Don’t you think my personality is advancing more every day?” I asked with a wink.
Ted nodded yes as he let out a loud compulsive belly laugh. We often had this joke between us, but there was an element of truth in it. Ted’s goofball sense of humor and constant drive to get a rise out of people was starting to rub off on me much like the dressing fiascos had impacted him. I had learned to take life less seriously. It was a good thing. I could laugh at myself. We were still laughing, that is until the boring waitress arrived with our food. Uninterested she dropped off our plates and we politely obeyed and got to business eating. Noticing the time, we seriously devoured our meals and then anxiously waited for the bill. The shifting in our seats and countless stares in the waitress’s direction was too subtle so Ted had to go to the counter to make a formal request.
When he came back to the table, I grabbed his arm, pulled him in tight, and whispered in his ear. “Promise me one thing.”
“What is that?” Ted asked taken back a bit by my serious tone.
“Promise me that if I don’t follow through with writing, that you will slap me with a trout.”