Timon vs Pumba

i've been asked out by men before. and i've been asked out by more than one man in-relatively-the same time frame before. [does that happen to anyone else? all of a sudden guys remember you at the same time and they all call you at the same time? ...like, am i ovulating or something?)

but never at the exact. same. time.

as i said in the previous blog, i had been spending a lot of time at the stadium the past few weeks... and here's where i introduce Timon and Pumba. and i refer to them as such because... well, they couldn't be more opposite-except that they are both cooks. timon is a soft-spoken (yet aggressive), giving, sensitive type of man that has facial hair resembling a genie. he is african american. Pumba is a grungy, outgoing, bearded man. a man's man. he is also probably 300 pounds. both of them i had spent time talking with. both of them are good people. yet at the same time, both of them i would not really be interested in pursuing more than a friendship with.

one night at work, i'm restraining myself from dancing around the room and singing along with the band they had hired for a gala put on by the cardinals.

"gahhhh!" i say throwing my arms out in frustration. "i just want to party!"

"well maybe we should go out and do that sometime.." says Timon.

"...yeah...maybe..." i say in a voice that was less than optimistic and walk/dance in the other direction. hopefully that got the hint across.... i say in my head.

it didn't.

they next day at work, Timon helps me find some frozen food in the cooler and asks me if i thought about his question from the previous night.

"uh.. about going out?"

"yeah," he replies.

"uh.. no, not really." i say back. hey, it was the truth.

"well, think about it." he says.

"ok..." as i stand there not knowing what the hell i'm going to say the next time he asks.

meanwhile, pumba is actually taking time to talk to me, learn about me, and have more than just small-talk conversations. and i gotta say, i like the guy. he's a cool dude. Timon and i have only ever had little side conversations in the kitchen. needless to say, i don't know very much about Timon-or vice versa.

later that night, it just so happens that Timon AND Pumba are scheduled to the same carving station for the post-party we were working. before we open, i go up and talk to both of them. Timon starts to inquire again, obviously not shy in front of Pumba.

"so what are you doing this weekend?" he asks. oh no...

"well i'm working now then i'll probably just go home..." i reply.

"what about saturday? can i take you out saturday?"

"uh... tomorrow i'm... going to a concert...." i pull out of my ass.

"well, can i get your number," Timon says at the same exact time as--

"--well, i'm taking her to brunch on sunday, man, so.." Pumba interrupts.

at this point, i'm not sure what's happening-but i know it's not good. i have to get out of hereeeeee!!!

"uh... yeah," i start. "well, i'll let you two talk about this." and i practically run to my bar.

the next time i see Timon, is the next series of games the following week. and he's even more persistent.

"hey," he follows me out of the kitchen. cornered. f.

"i have to get your number," he says. oh?

"oh really?" i say, matter-of-factly.

"yeah," he says.

"and why is that?"

"'cause i want to take you out," he says sheepishly. i'll admit. it was kind of cute. but no.

"i don't know...." i start, hoping that i don't have to finish. i just keep staring at him, waiting for him to catch on. but he continues to follow me. "....you're not... going to let this go... are you...?"

"i'm just walking this way to go eat," he says.

"oh, ok," i say.

"....well, you working the party later?" i ask, not wanting to end things awkwardly.

"yep."

"i'll see you then," i say, and keep walking.

later on the same day, i see Pumba. i go over to him, glad to just talk and feel normal.

"so did you give (Timon) your number?" he asks.

"uh...yeah, no," i say as he laughs. "God, he asked me again today, too!"

"yeah the other day he was mad at me when i interrupted and he was trying to ask you out."

"really?"

"yeah he said, 'she's a shy girl, man, you can't be doing that.' and i was like, 'dude. that girl is not shy.' A shy girl doesn't walk into the kitchen and go, 'Yo! YO!'" Pumba says.

now i'm laughing. yeah... i guess i do do that...

"but," he continues," you should take my number. that way if you want to hang out you can call me. and there's no pressure for you to give me your number."

i smile. i like this. so much better than creepy Timon harassing me. "ok," i say.

later in the kitchen Pumba stops me, "here's that business card i was talking about." and he winks. when i look at it after i get home, the card not only has his number, but is a free drink coupon to a well-known bar in soulard. smooth.... very smooth....

;)