Page 11 of Biggest Player
I am on the short side, but sweet.
You: someone with their shit together—please know what you want!
Single mom?
Like—anactualmom? This means she has children, yeah?
Yikes.
Kids = do not pass go.
Do not advance to the next round.
Seriously. How many kids does this mom have? Her bio doesn’t say, and in my opinion, that’s need-to-know information.
Me:
Listen, babe. You’re a great-looking woman. I’m sure you’re a nice person and a lot of fun, but I’m not looking to be a stepdad any time soon.
I hit send, satisfied she’ll be grateful I’m letting her down gently—not to mention, I’m being straight up and honest with her. No bullshit here, thankyouverymuch.
She’s going to eat that shit up.
Margot:
Wow. I didn’tAskif you wanted to be a stepdad.
Okay. So she doesn’t exactly sound thrilled with my candor.
Margot:
And don’t call me babe.
Me:
I’m simply responding to the information you have in your bio. Chill out. You don’t have to get salty with me.
I learned the phrasedon’t get saltyfrom one of the rookies on our team. The cocky little prick had the gall to say those words to my face after he’d taken the last flavor of Powerade I wanted from the locker-room fridge.
Been using it since whenever it suits my fancy.
Ha!
Margot:
Chill out? That’s a good one. A man with aFakeaccount, usingFakephotos of some famous football player, telling me toChillOut. Don’t make me laugh.
I doubt very much that Margot is at home laughing.
Me:
You can stop coming at me with those harsh, all-caps words, K?
Margot:
You are a catfish! Why should I give a crap whether or not you’re sensitive to my “harsh words?”
I sink farther into my pillows, luxuriating in their softness and staring at my cell phone screen because it is the most interesting thing in my bedroom at the moment.
