A bet’s a bet
Picture it: It was a blistering January day earlier this year. (That translates to about 58 degrees in Houston.) I was minding my own business, checking the comments on my website after posting the Bachelor recap. Since words of affirmation is my love language, I was naturally searching for “my favorite line was…” or “this one made me spit Diet Coke all over my monitor…” or “I was hoping you’d mention her cocktail dress that looked like it came straight from my sister’s prom in 1990…” when I received an email from an unknown address.
Below is an excerpt from said email:
“…and you are the most creative blogger I’ve ever read. You are amazing. If I knew you better, you’d be the wind beneath my wings. My wish is to one day be as polished of a writer as you…”
Wait. That’s not the part I wanted to share. Silly me. Here it is:
“I write a Bachelor recap too. Would you mind taking a look and giving me your feedback?
Some Guy in Austin”
Intrigued that a dude reached out to me in order to share that he too wrote a Bachelor blog, I head over to his website to check it out. I find that he’s witty. He’s a bit saucier in his descriptions of the forgo card dates. He’s smart and uses big words that I have to look up in a dictionary. He loves Our Host Chris Harrison. His writing style is in the same vein as mine. And he has a wicked sense of humor.
Obviously, I was an instant fan.
Picture it: It was a balmy November evening. Some Guy in Austin sits across from me in a humble honky tonk. It’s been 10 months and we’ve reached the point of no return in our friendship…
We’re playing Truth or Dare. Except we both think the dare part is lame, so we just play truth.
He absent-mindedly picks at the label of his Lone Star. I maintain eye contact. George Jones pines in the background about whiskey drinking and memories. He’s stalling. I’m waiting patiently. Sometimes, silence can be uncomfortable…and that’s a good thing. I smile. This is going to be a juicy one. I can feel it. He takes a pull from his beer, sets it gingerly down on the worn table and says, “I was an underwear model back in the day.”
I fell on to the floor in a puddle of hysterics. After picking myself up and slapping the sawdust from my jeans, I crawled back into the booth and tried to maintain some sort of composure. I learned many things that night dear readers. Things that these innocent ears should not have heard. I gasped twice. Choked on my own adult beverage once and said, “SHUT UP” more times than I can count. But the underwear model reveal was classic. I knew I could use it to my advantage if I played my cards right.
Later that night, an opportunity presented itself. Long story short…Some Guy in Austin lost a bet. It was agreed that details would not be shared with either of our audiences on how my friend lost this gentleman’s wager. We all know that the most entertaining part of losing a bet is the outcome and hope that general humiliation will be involved on the part of the loser. And it is without further adieu that I give you this…
Thanks for your honesty Some Guy. Thanks for owning up to the fact that you lost and I salute you for actually sending me the photo. Thanks for proving to me that you didn’t have to do any special styling to your hair when you impersonated Elvis Presley at karaoke bars in college. (Was I not supposed to tell people that?)
I’m sorry that the wildest thing you learned about me was that I once tried to steal a Country Club road sign when I was 17-years-old. I’m sorry that we can’t see more of your abs in this picture, because it appears Some Young Buck in Austin could give Kyptinite a run for his money.
And I’m sorry I pried the cold Lone Star out of your hands and made you pose with a Dr Pepper for my website.
Happy Birthday friend. I’m glad you were born.
And I’m really glad you lost the bet.