I hate it when blasts from the past call you. You never know what to expect.
Like the other day, someone called me whom I have not spoken to in over six months. No emails, no calls, no letters.
She called telling me she was in Dallas for 2 days and that we should meet up.
So far, I'm down. I haven't seen her in a little over a year. I asked where in Dallas she was staying...Fort Worth.
Whoa....Hell to the no, that is not Dallas.
I'm not pulling a D-town snob on her, but seriously, it's not the same town. I hate when people assume that anything and anywhere within the DFW-metroplex is Dallas.
Addison--nope. Plano--nope. Irving--nope. Fort Worth--you've got to be kidding. I'd give you Addison, Plano, and maybe Irving, maybe.
Fort Worth is 45 minutes away. And in my opinion is whole other city, like a day trip city--not just 'ooh let's meet for lunch in Ft. Worth' city.
And I haven't seen you in over a year, and we don't talk anymore...so, sorry, Golightly don't do that.
Then last night, I got a call. The call of all blast from the past calls:
Caller-male: You still live in Dallas?
WHOA. Let's stop and recap. 1. He's lucky I haven't hung up, yet. Can he identify himself?
So I glance at the caller ID number...512, Austin. I don't know any males in Austin.
Me: Who 'dis? (yeah, right...I so don't talk like that.
Caller-male: Michael (Last Name)
Me: Michael? Uhm...who?
Michael: Oh. Remember, rugby...we dated and you tracked me down last year?
OH. HOLY COW!
We did date. I did track (stalk) him down. So maybe we should take a time-out for a really funny story--some of you may know it already.
Way back in the freshman days, while I was at UT, I met Michael. Tall, dark hair, and hot as a skillet.
This boy was crazy for me. He'd walk the 100 miles across campus during the big Freeze of '97 to bring me Blue Bell Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream.
He'd rescue me from whatever party I was drunk off my butt to get me home safely.
He'd take me out to dinner on his birthday.
Seriously, he was the best boyfriend ever. Unfortunately, that was also his demise.
He played rugby. Back in that day, I was all over rugby boys. All. Over. Them.
Rugby games, I was there.
Rugby parties, there. Rugby get togethers, done.
I didn't meet him through rugby. Him being on the team was an added bonus.
So as a rugby groupie and dating one of the hottest players on the team, life was damn good.
Then there was a Rugby tournament in New Orleans. During Mardi Gras. Sweet!
And my best friend E's boyfriend played for Rice Rugby. E lives in California and made the plans to come to Texas, so we could all go to Mardi Gras and cheer for the rugby boys.
We drove up with the Rice Rugby team.
This was before cell phone mania, so Michael went with his team, and I had no way of contacting or reaching him. Hasta la vista, baby. We said we'd see each other at the tournament, if we could.
Being Mardi Gras, me and E never made it to any tournament games. Hee hee.
Being a drunk slut back in that day, I hooked up with one of Rice's Rugby boys, AB. He was tall, dark, and Italian. Italiano. I hit the jackpot.
You know how it is back in the day...right? Because I would never think that way, now. (hee)
Afterwards, he went back to Rice, I went back to UT and Michael. I wasn't proud of what I did, just to let you know. I wasn't confessing anything either.
I had a wee bit of a problem on my hands, Italiano AB was crushed. He called me every night. I called him a few times too. This went on for about a month.
Then the big game was upon us: UT versus Rice in Houston.
What to do? What to do?
I didn't want to go, but another friend who also went to Mardi Gras with us was hooked on a different Rice player and she was determined to go IF I went. Peer Pressure, what a bitch.
I'm easy like that. So we road-tripped to Houston, just us two. Again I told Michael I'd see him at the game.
Now looking back if I was smart I could have told Michael that I would sit on the Rice side with my friend and cheer for E's boyfriend. If I was smart...I don't know how I got into UT, seriously.
We trot down to Houston the night before the game and hang out with the Rice Rugby team. AB is elated. It doesn't take a fortune teller to tell you what happened that night.
So next morning, in his dorm room, I needed clothes. The only thing he had that could fit me and was clean, was a grey Rice tee shirt.
Oh, well. The game was starting soon.
Dumb me, my friend, and my new Rice tee sat on the Rice side of the game. And we cheered for Rice.
Oh, yes I did. Yes, I was crazy.
During halftime, Michael came over to me and asked me what the Hell I was doing?
I couldn't answer.
He then went on this speech about how I was a special girl and he really liked me, blah blah blah. In front of everyone. I didn't know what to do or say, but AB did...
Let's just say, Rice won the game and Michael never spoke to me again. We can't blame him.
So cut to 2003. Don't you ever wonder what happens to people? I do.
I decided that I needed to get in touch with Michael and see what was happening with his life---I already said I was crazy. We're talking 6 years since we've spoken.
In true stalker style, I hunted him down.
He was in his last year of law school at UT (uhm hmm) and single.
We spoke on the phone on and off for a couple of months. Then it trailed off, oh well.
You can imagine my shock last night, when he asked me if I'd like to meet up with him. Tonight in a TX-OU weekend game, Texas Rugby will match off against OU Rugby.
What to do? What to do?
I agreed. As soon as I did, all those rugby groupie feelings rushed back to me.
Rugby boys are hot! They look like they went through a boxing match when the game is through, but a few days and band-aids later they are still hot.
I'm going because what do I have to lose?