Worlds Apart
You couldn’t figure out the “Worlds Theory” for yourself? It’s just common sense. Anybody knows, ya gotta keep your worlds apart.
-George Costanza
Leslie and I joined a volleyball league at the start of last year. During my recent self-imposed exile from the land of hedonism, volleyball was probably the only activity that kept me sane. At the very least it did wonders for my ass and shoulders.
But last year I was trying my hardest to keep worlds from colliding. You see, physical activity releases endorphins. And pheromones. I was surrounded by fit, young and flirtatious single women. I realize this is a bit like complaining about someone getting chocolate in my peanut butter. At the time, however, I wanted to participate in at least one group activity that had nothing to do with sex.
Not that I was blind to the curious mating habits of New York singles. The league was like a junior high dance: no one made the first move. “Guys never ask me out,” lamented a teammate. It didn’t make any sense to me. The league should have been a meat market.
I stayed out of the fray. I stayed focused on the game. Got good. Damned good. And even if I had wanted to go there, I told myself, good girls should be with good boys, not married perverts like me.
On a Friday night a girl named Denise showed up at open play.. She must have been 5’10”, with curly red locks and a small gap between her front teeth that did nothing to diminish her smile. She was, I believe, Lithuanian. She had a killer serve. So much for the worst-laid plans.
I tried to avoid Denise — really — but she kept laughing at my stupid jokes. She sat next to me on the sidelines. She kept touching me, damn it. And so, when it became apparent that no other man would approach the second most beautiful woman in the gymnasium, I invited her out for drinks with me and Les. She readily agreed.
Another guy was sort of hovering around us. It would have felt wrong not to invite him as well — maybe they’d hit it off and I’d remain safely compartmentalized. But as soon as we were seated my hand drifted under the table, onto Denise’s knee, and she said, “You guys are married?” and I said, “I’m sure my wife won’t mind us spending some time together, right hon?” and my wife, stroking the lovely creature’s back, said, “Why not?” and the poor guy’s face said WTF?
A couple weeks later Denise showed up at my birthday party with her beautiful, raven-haired friend. The three of us sat together, Denise’s friend sandwiched in the middle, feeding each other candied hearts printed with suggestive phrases like SPREAD EM and LICK ME. Denise made an offhand remark about vibrators. Our fingers crept together atop her hot friend’s thigh…
And that thunderous crash in the distance? That was the sound of worlds colliding.
More: Volleyball | Dating | Seduction
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