Scene: Beginning of the 6th race at the Santa Anita Racetrack. Annnnnnnnnnnd they’re off!
Me: (pitch in voice increasing) “oh.my.god. My horse is winning!”
Him #1: (looking down at my racing form) “Who did you pick?”
Me: (straining to see my red jerseyed money-maker) “What? Oh, OneBadBoy…I mean, with a name like that how could you not pick him.”
Him #2: (laughing) “I’m starting to see your where your dating issues stem from.”
Me: (eyes rolling to the back of my head. this is the guy giving me a hard time) “What are you talking about?”
Him #1: (nodding in agreement) “You girls always go for the bad boy…even when he’s laying it out right there on the table for the world to see.”
Me: (jumping up and down) “He won! He won!”
Him #2: (looking at the score board) “He didn’t win.”
Me: (visible excitement accompanied by mildly annoying shrieking) “He totally won…he showed! I won!”
Him #2: (shaking his head) “And so, like in life he did just enough to get buy and keep you hanging on. It’s like you didn’t hear from him all week and then at 6pm on a Sunday he offered to take you to dinner that night and all you remember is that he called. All he had to do was showed up again”
Me: (sighing, nodding) “And so the cycle continues. Now, can you hold my beer while I go collect my winnings. This girl is in the mood for some Taco Bell courtesy of OneBadBoy.”
Who knew horse racing would be such a metaphorical gold mine?
But yea for winning.
I always bet to show. And that whole analogy is pretty applicable to my dating expectations, too!