Posts Tagged ‘Crazy-magnets’

Good Woman, Down.

Everyone has their thing: loser-magnets, asshole-magnets, mama’s boy-magnets, . . .crazy-magnets. . .  

     My cousin, Jo-Jo (name has been changed to protect the magnet from those unwanteds who may be reading), and I do tend to attract the crazies.  Even though Jo-Jo is deserting me in the land of loons to get married this weekend, I have been given some comfort through this blog, knowing I’m not alone in this; as I’m sure my girl, Man Shopper, a kindred soul, will attest to.  In honor of my cousin’s last few moments of singlehood,  I thought we’d bid farewell to a couple crazies we both once knew.

     A few years ago, before she met her man, Jo-Jo and I went to Disney World to run in one the races they host, just for fun.  (Yeah, we’re cool like that.)  While there, we met up with another cousin at a bar he liked.  (Hey, I’m Italian, I have cousins everywhere, gimmie a break.)  As we’re sitting at the bar, I see in the corner of my eye, some guy run his fingers through his hair, pose, and then all 5’4″ of him took off doing a catwalk, obviously heading for his prey.  I turned to Jo-Jo and said, “Oh my God, you’ll never believe what I just saw.  A guy -.”  Mouth froze because of the sudden appearance of the man on my right.  Oh man, that Rico Suave preparation was for me.  Don’t remember the guy’s name, but with some ski-like arm swing motion, announced he was from Sweden.  His friend was from who knows where and was taken aback by the presence of my male cousin and kept commenting on his muscle size. 

     Not having much of a clue what the two were saying and dodging spit bullets, we managed to finish our drinks and make a clean get-away.  If they wanted the full “American treatment,” they were going to have to look else where.

     A few weeks later I had flown back home for Thanksgiving and a funeral.  (We like to multitask in my family.)  I borrowed Jo-Jo’s car to head to said funeral (not her side of the family) and decided to stop at the gas station to fill it up before returning it.  I stopped at the gas station down the street from her house.  It’s one of those full-service only places, so you’re not allowed to pump your own gas.  In comes Buck – a short scraggly guy with a patchy beard and a trucker cap.  I knew at first glance he was a talker.  I hesitantly rolled down my window and told him to fill it up, cheap stuff was fine.  The problem was, I was paying with a debit card which Buck had to process meaning the window had to stay down.  And that was all he needed, one inch of my window and then diarrhea of the mouth.  “I just moved here from Texas.”  “This is first job here.”  “I didn’t graduate from high school.”  “I like it here so far.”  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”  “I think I’m going to go to night school.”

     I thought the gas tank was never going to fill.  I was trying my damnedest to avoid eye contact and any other interaction.  I dodged questions about myself and his hopeless attempts at asking me out.  But he was a crazy, none of that mattered.  The gas tank finally filled and my card finally processed and I got the heck out of dodge.  I drove the mile to Jo-Jo’s house, walked into the house where she and other family members in the kitchen were standing and said, “I veto the gas station guy.”

“Huh?” she said.

“I veto him.  He’s a crazy.  I learned about where he went to high school, why he moved here…”

“Oh, Buck,” she said.  “He’s from Texas and has a kid and…”

“Yeah.”

“I already know him.  He’s already asked me out.  Twice actually.  I went there one day and got his whole life story and then went back a couple of weeks later and got the same story again.  He didn’t remember me from the first time and told me everything again.”

     Needless to say, the family was very amused by this.  Not only do we both attract crazies, but we attract the same crazies.  

     She called me a few weeks later to tell me that Buck started dating one of the mom’s at the school she worked at.  Apparently that gas attendant charm worked on someone.

     So, dear cuz’, I wish you well in your new life.  And on behalf of all other single crazy-magnets out there, I want to thank you for taking yourself off the market leaving more goons for the rest of us.  We really appreciate it.

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