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"You're the most sexiest man on Newsvine," Kymlee said.
Well, I was a little embarrassed by that. Granted, that's all a matter of personal taste but there was some pretty stiff competition.
"I'm not even the sexiest man in this room," I said sheepishly.
"No, I said you are the most sexiest man on Newsvine," she said again. Kymlee, if you don't know it, is not exactly a wallflower about her opinions. It's not good to disagree with her.
Still, I was having a hard time agreeing. You see, I had just driven up with Calvin. Porn stars were more subtle than the people ( I say 'people' for a reason ) throwing themselves at that guy. We met up at the Thrifty car rental place. He was at the counter, a couple was in line beyond him. I walked around them and stood next to him so we could talk while we waited. The lady behind him looked at me funny, like I was cutting in line.
"It's okay," I said, "We're brothers." She kept staring at me.
"You're not buying it?" I asked. "Why, because I'm taller??"
Calvin turns and smiles at her. She smiles back at him. "No problem," she said, her voice a little raspy. She should see a doctor for an antihistamine, I thought, in my heterosexual stupor.
Meanwhile, the girl behind the counter was completely flustered. Watching her move around at a snail's pace while we wanted to get on the road was a real exercise in Zen. She had to write everything twice, ask everything twice. Every time she looked at Calvin her hands shook a little. Too much caffeine, I thought. Then she forgot the keys. A few minutes later she comes back and we're finally ready to go. As we walk away, I turn back to look at her and she is still staring after us. Odd, I thought, in my heterosexual stupor.
We get the car - turns out she upgraded us for free to a red Mustang convertible. Isn't that lucky? I thought in my heterosexual stupor.
We pull up to the exit. A Sikh is there. I know this because he is in a turban and I am so multicultural.
"Hey handsome guy," he says to Calvin in a Punjab accent and comes out of his booth. "What are you going to do when all of the girls stop you?"
He leans in and looks at the back of the girl-less car, then back at Calvin, who is too cool to print off directions and is busy thumbing away on his cell.
"Oh, and you got an iPhone! That's nice," he looks at it and then at Calvin. "When do you come back?"
"Tomorrow, around this time, " Calvin replies in his heterosexual stupor.
"I'll be here," our new friend in the turban says.
We get on the highway and I mention to Calvin that, for Ontario, California, he is like George Clooney and Brad Pitt combined. He states he doesn't know what I am talking about, which is just the kind of thing Brad Clooney would say.
Calvin, you see, has what scientists call "the Kavorka." Science has no explanation for The Kavorka, any more than we have an explanation for Esther Williams swimming pools or why anyone ever thought Microsoft Bob was a good idea. The Kavorka is what it is. I learned more about the Kavorka this past weekend. I also learned that women talk to you more if you're carrying a box full of liquor, something that had been unknown to me before.
"Is there a need for all this liquor?" I asked, as we left the second liquor store on the way to the lodge. "With all of the meetings about citizen journalism and improving the community I am not sure there will be much time for drinking. I brought Boggle."
Calvin looked at me like I had just asked him to fly the car to Cuba and then shook his head and off we drove again. It turns out that I was wrong and they actually did already have alcohol at what can only be described as the best possible place to hold a Newsvine User Group Meeting On Citizen Journalism and Improving The Community. But they didn't have cigars. Or Boggle. So I knew I could add some value.
Still, this article is about how I became the sexiest man on Newsvine and I have to tell you, it wasn't easy. Everyone already knows Mykola is the mack daddy of Newsvine, Walt is a rock star, Winsome Cowboy is funner than me ( and that's without mentioning the stilts - humor I could compete with, but not stilts ), Lughshand is a poet and so genuinely nice I wanted to plant a dead hooker in his bed out of resentment that I could never be that nice, and that was without Orlando being in the mix yet - I didn't post a picture of Orlando because Celestina is in them and she asked me not to publish any incriminating photos of her - all of the pictures she is in are incriminating.
Then there was Calvin which, as I have already discussed, is considerable competition.
Yet the signs were there. For example, Celestina was very quiet at one point.
"Can you try to keep it down?" I asked.
"F*** off," she said.
I laughed.
"Do you have issues?" she asked.
"Ummm, no." That clinched it for her. Clearly she was hopelessly enchanted with me and wished I had some mental disorder that would ruin my mystique.
"Walk away now," she said. I could sense her voice breaking a little.
**********
"Well, I guess it's possible," I said to Kymlee. "Even Celestina, who is really, really nice, is clearly put out that I turned out so be so outrageously sexy in real life too. Almost hostile."
"No," Kymlee said again, her voice rising a little more, "I said you are the most SEXIST man on Newsvine!"
Oh. She said sexist. Yeah, I can totally win that one.
