So, on Thanksgiving morning, at workout, someone asked, "Is there a flipturn from back to breast in an IM?" And I responded with my usual no, and then qualified with, "Well, there IS a turn, but it's difficult to explain and even worse to do, but if you're determined to learn it, I'll teach you."

She said she probably didn't want to learn it, but what does it involve, she asked? So I said, half demonstrating, "well, it involves bringing your right knee to your left shoulder, or vice versa, after you've touched the wall, and then flipping onto your front."

BridgeBoy swims out a few strokes and says, "Like this?" and then procedes to do a pretty decent rendition of an old-school, no-longer-done turn. I said, sort of, and then clarified what I'd said before. He goes, "And it looks like what?"

I re-did the demonstration, raising my right arm up over my head, and bringing my left knee up while balling myself up and then turning over, and then, at the sight of his glazed-over eyes, said, "It's just not easy to demonstrate, I guess, or I'm just deficient in that area."

He glided back to the wall with the smallest hint of a smirk and said in a low voice, "You know I just asked you to do that because I wanted to see you do that demonstration again...right?"

If there is such a thing as embarrassedhorrorgiddy, then that's what I felt at that moment.

Later, when they were all out of the pool and we were hanging around enjoying coach-baked cookies and the usual coach-brewed coffee, I asked about his escrow and how it was all going. He's supposed to close this coming Thursday. There ensued some talk about the place, and then one of the swimmers asked him, "Hmmmm, are you single?" There was uproarious laughter and I said, "Geez, [nosey swimmer lady's name], you're not even Jewish!" But damnit, she was serious, and asked him again. He said yes, he is, and then she asked him what he does for a living. "Civil engineer," he replied. At which point one of the other guys asked, "Why, you got someone in mind for him?"

"Actually, yeah," she says, "My sister!"

Now, I know this woman. I know she's serious, and I know she doesn't just say things without following them up. So, I did what any normal, red-blooded American woman coach who's in deep like with one of her swimmers would do when said swimmer gets the spotlight for being available and a possible catch for someone else's sister:

I panicked.

What ensued was a very nervous twids, trying to clean up and talk entertainingly and shut up and not be noticed but be noticed all at the same time, and it was likely either a total disaster or was not noticed by anyone at all, least of all BridgeBoy. Ugh.

BUT! He did stay, again, until everyone else had left, and then he did watch as I pulled away (I watched him in the rearview mirror, of course, so I could see him), and then I promptly went home and emailed him some stuff I said I'd forward him.

And, instead of waiting until next week to do so in person, I asked him out in the email.

I'm a loser for asking him in an email, but I was panicked and felt like if I didn't put in a good word for myself immediately, I might lose him to the longshoreman-woman's sister before I saw him again. And, I don't know. I'm just a loser, okay? But! At least I asked him.

And have I heard back from him? Nope. Not a word. It's 4:00pm on Sunday, with the total possibility of seeing him tomorrow morning at 5:00, and I still haven't heard from him. Which leads me to believe that any of the following options is true:

a) He has not yet read the email.

b) He has read the email and doesn't know what to say because he thinks it's hilarious that his coach would ask him out and he can't type for the convulsious of laughter coursing through his bones.

c) He has read the email and is thrilled to the point of being overwhelmed and is planning not on replying to the email but by making everything right by sweeping me off my feet tomorrow in person, kissing me in the equipment room when everyone else is gone and saying, "What took you so long, Coach?"

d) He read the email yesterday and still can't figure out how to let me down without making things weird the next time he comes to workout.

e) He read the email and freaked, and has been searching the net for other teams to swim with because he can't possibly go back and train with a coach who hits on him. Ew.

f) He read the email and is right this second calling the Better Business Bureau and United States Masters Swimming to report me for making a pass at him...he has the written proof.

g) He read the email and is right this second making a flyer to distribute to all the swimmers on my team telling them to watch out for me because I hit on my swimmers...with a number at the bottom for other victims to call so they can all file a class action suit together against me.

Right, so clearly, as more time passes with no reply? I go deeper and deeper into my psychosis. So yeah, I'm hoping he replies soon, or I'm gonna really be a wreck tomorrow when I go to the pool, expecting the National Guard to be waiting for me with a team of psychiatrists and a set of lovely straightjackets in designer colors and a police escort to take me to the nearest padded room.

Nota bene to boys and girls out there: If someone likes you and they ask you out? Just say yea or nay. Do NOT refer back to Swingers or any other dating-how-not-to movies and think that it's okay to wait a non-requisite 3-6 days to call back. It just ain't right. The person who asked you out might not be all there by the time you return the call. Just a simple yes or no, man, and the world could be a much saner place. Trust Twids on this one.

And now, I'm off to do a little xmas shopping and run on a treadmill to the point of collapse.

Did I mention I'm fighting off a relapse? Yeah, I'm trying hard to deny its presence and it's not taking the hint.

Posted by twids at 4:05 pm