Paddle Club

Today Maurizio and I went to the paddle club meeting. The club meets in the banquet room of a local restaurant – and bar. There seems to be a social half hour before things get started where everyone gets a beer or two and some food from the bar and settles in. Maurizio and I took a table near the rear, and we were joined by paddle girl. She was wearing retro-hightop basketball shoes, faded jeans and a green hoodie. I realized I had never seen her without a dry suit or paddle wear on. She actually has curves.

The meeting started with the recognition of several club members who had set club records or won competitions in the last month. This was followed by an update of their fundraising activities. Most of the members are 20 to 25, and in college. The club raises money to help send unemployed students to competitions that are out of state. Then they went into the upcoming paddling schedule - practices, pool time (to work on Eskimo rolls), outings and races. The coach got up and made a motivational speech, then it was mixer time.

Maurizio made the most of it. He was all over the 20-something hardbodies. He was flitting from group to group – mingling and getting phone numbers. There were about 60 people, but only 5 women. He was in his element. It is always amazing to watch him work a room. I’m in awe.

I went up to the bar to get a refill. A few of the guys followed me.

“So you’re the guy who’s been practicing with paddle-girl?”

“Uh, yeah, we’ve been pulling dawn patrol down in Santa Cruz.”

“Yeah, well.” He puffed his chest out a bit. “You know, paddle-girl has been through some rough times recently. And she doesn’t need any problems.”

“Yeah, she mentioned something about boyfriend stuff.”

The guys nodded. “Are you involved with someone, wife, girlfriend?”

Well, no – but you’re not really my type – I wanted to quip. Decided it was a bad idea. “I’m between attachments at the moment. But, don’t worry, I’m not going after her.” I chuckled, “she told me she was 17.” They laughed. “No worries.”

“We’d really hate for something bad to happen to her.” They never said it, but their meaning was clear, hurt paddle-girl – in any way - and we will break your ass.

Paddle girl has about 50 big brothers looking out for her. Good for her.

I went back to the table and sat down. One of the women came over to my table and sat down. “You’re new.” She observed. “I’m Debbie.”

“Hi, I’m Rich.”

She was friendly and chatty and seemed to like me. We talked for a while and I was beginning to think that maybe she was interested in me. And then she asked “that guy you came with…” Oh, I get it. She’s talking with me to get to Maurizio. Dammit.

I thought about stringing her on – sometimes it produces humorous results, but though better of it. “He’s a really nice guy, but I don’t think you’re his type.”

“Oh. What’s his type?” She said with interest.

“You see that guy in the leather jacket at the bar?” I nodded over at the guy Maurizio was chatting up. “he’s more his type.”

“But he’s a guy…” Her eyes grew wide “Oh. I didn’t know you two were…” She put a hand over her mouth – as if a tragedy occurred. “What a waste…” She looked back at him.

“No…” I was going to protest, but, oh, never mind, no point in denying at this point. Let her think what she wants to think. I sighed and nodded. “Girls often have that reaction to him.”

“Damn, the great looking ones are always gay. Are you two together?”

“No. We’re just friends. I’m…” again I was going to correct her impression of me, but she interrupted. Doesn’t matter – I’m not here to date.

“You know, I know this guy… you might really like him.”

Why do folks think this way about gays? I wanted to respond, I know this hetero guy, you two would really hit it off. You’d like each others plumbing. Why is it that people think that gays only need to find another gay to find a match? At this point I was a bit annoyed at her – so I said “I just got out of a bad relationship and… I’m kinda taking a break between guys. You know.”

“Me too. Guys can be so difficult.” Like if I were gay, I wouldn’t be a guy somehow.

“Oh I know. How come they just don’t ‘get it’?”

It was interesting. Debbie really became a different person, she let her guard down – and I suspect became herself. She wasn’t worried about me hitting on her, or about what kind of an impression she might make on me. She was a lot more relaxed and seemed to have more fun. No wonder girls really like gay guys. Maybe I’ll pull this ruse again someday. Anyway we talked until most folks had left.

Maurizio and I carpooled – he drove, so when he was ready to leave he came by and chatted with Debbie and then we headed out.

“Wow, I love this sport. I got 4 phone numbers!” Maurizio bragged once we were in his car.

“What sport is that, exactly?” I asked.

“Did you see Brad, the one in the leather jacket? He is HOT. God, I'd love to paddle to a deserted island with him.”

“I hate you.” I said. He knows that this is my jealousy of his ability to pick up 4 phone numbers in one evening.

“How about that Debbie? She’s cute.”

“Naw, she thinks I’m gay.”

“Huh?”

I explained our conversation. Maurizio though it was hilarious.

“What about paddle-girl? She seemed nice.”

“Some of the guys told me ‘hands-off’.”

“Well, that’s not very friendly – how come?”

“She’s coming off a bad relationship. They don’t want to see her get hurt again. Anyway she’s inappropriately young for me.”

“How old is she?”

“24.”

“Brad’s 23 – and I think I’m older than you. She sounds perfect to me. We could double.”

I laughed at him.

“You need to show me how to paddle. I guess I need to buy a boat. How does all that work?”

“You’re going to need a lot of stamina to keep up with Brad… “

“Yeah.” Maurizio replied. He was nodding and had a big smile on his face.

Perv.

Paddle girl and I will be doing the dawn patrol on Sunday. I missed it this week, due to disabling jet lag. And the club is having a “left over” pot luck on Friday on the beach – Maurizio insists on going. There’s no paddling and there will be drinking. Perfect for him.