The Language of Love

True story: So last night, while in the process of getting some work done, I was having a nice little text conversation with a very attractive young woman I know. Nothing dirty or overly flirtatious, just -- nice.

As the back-and-forth wrapped up, she let me know that she was heading off to bed.

And so I typed into my phone, "Sleep well," then followed it with a somewhat innocent "xoxo."

I was a millisecond away from hitting the send button when, thank God, I happened to look down and see what was actually in the text she was about to get.

Turns out my phone didn't recognize "xoxo" which means that the auto-correct feature kicked in and turned it into a word it did recognize and I suppose closely associated with "xoxo."

The message read: "Sleep well. Cock."

I'm not sure what this says about me, but it's probably not good.

Jesus Hates Me, This I Know

So while I was at the gym earlier tonight I couldn't help but notice this very cute girl whom I'd seen there a couple of times before.

Now obviously I'm in no state of mind to even consider the possibility of dating -- or even fooling around, for that matter. At any given moment I'm barely keeping my shit together; going through the motions, mental and physical, of trying to pick somebody up just seems preposterous right now. I'm still in the very early stages of the Kubler-Ross grief model and can't help but feel like any intimate encounter would end with me balled up on the floor in my underwear crying to whichever woman had been unlucky enough to get saddled with me for the night about how I miss the way my wife eats edamame. It'd be pathetic and I know it. Sort of like Forgetting Sarah Marshall, only less funny and with fewer Dracula puppets.

But, admittedly, the girl at the gym looked quite a bit like Jayne -- circa 2002, when we first met -- so that's probably what held my attention for a few seconds past the point of propriety. She was petite, with brown hair pulled up in a tight pony tail and wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black leggings. Definitely hard not to notice.

As we were just about the only two people in the gym, we passed each other a couple of times -- without so much as a sideways glance. Then finally, we happened to come from opposite directions around a corner and approach the gym's main water fountain at the same time. I got there a few paces ahead, took a quick sip, then looked up and smiled at her, motioning that the fountain was all hers. She smiled back and leaned in to drink. I turned to walk back in the direction I'd just come from, but curiosity got the best of me and I looked over my shoulder -- just in time to see her turn to the side to look in my direction. Once again, she smiled. Once again, I smiled back.

And then she spun on her heel and began to walk away.

And there, on the back of her shirt, was a silk-screened image of a sneaker -- and around it in black lettering:

"YOUTH FOR CHRIST 5K RUN"

Yeah. This single thing is so gonna suck.