Out of my league

My mentor in college told me it’s better to aim high and miss, than aim low and succeed.

Generally his advice was right, but I found out the hard way that his wisdom doesn’t work with women.

When it comes to women, if you’re out of your league, you can aim high as you want, but take it from me, you’re going to get nothing but heartache.

I’m a struggling writer—that’s what keeps me going, but doesn’t pay my bills—working as a Visitor Service Aide at the National Art Gallery does that.

I know what you’re thinking—that’s a mighty prestigious sounding title for a Tour Guide—and you’re right.

One thing about Jay Spenser—I know who I am and where I stand.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t.

Take Kate Brookes, for instance.

Her dad’s an Aide or something at the White House and she’s an art historian who helps Jason Rutledge, the Director, with his acquisitions.

She’s definitely out of my league—that’s what I tell my stupid head, but my dumb heart says otherwise.

“Why don’t you ask her out? —She’s your age.”

Leopold’s the Curator of Sculpture and my friend—actually, I think he fancies himself my spiritual advisor.

He always states the obvious then uses it as leverage—like that remark about Kate being my age. Hell, Kate Upton’s my age and I don’t try asking her out!

I take a deep breath and try to be patient. What is it about the wise men in my life that their advice works for everything except when it comes to women?

I try to hold onto my composure, but find myself venting.

“Yeah, well maybe I will ask her out, Leo—next time we share a business lunch together.”

I know the remark is lame and childish—but maybe I’m allowed to gripe.

And then I find my lips moving again.

"Jason Rutledge gets to wine and dine every beautiful woman in the art gallery, and a few others besides."

Leo just rolls his eyes.

“Are we back on the Rutledge file again? Really, Jay—you have no self-confidence. That dilettante is more interested in status than the arts. The man’s a poseur—he knows nothing.”

“He got to have lunch today with Kate.”

“He gets to have lunch every day with a different woman—Except for Kate, they’re all vacuous, empty-headed bits of fluff to adorn his arm—nothing more.”

Now I roll my eyes.

“Well, gee Leo, that’s reassuring—it’s just that I just happen to be a little short of eye candy myself lately.”

“I think Kate likes you. Don’t sell yourself short.”

I like Leo—I really do—he’s a real positive guy, but definitely out of the loop.

What chance has an ex-junior hockey player and starving artist, going up against the urbane, suave, Jason Rutledge? –The same odds of success as the proverbial snowball in hell.

It’s past five when I get in and I’m supposed to meet Max and the guys at the Verizon Center at seven.

The Washington Capitols are playing the Toronto Maple Leafs and it’ll be a good game. I make myself a grilled cheese sandwich, put on my Capitols hockey sweater and head for the arena.

The game lives up to its hype and even though the Caps lose, Alex Ovechkin gets a hat trick—we’re all riding a post-game high and head out for Chinese food.

We turn a corner and run into Kate and her family, all of them dressed in evening attire.

“Jay! What are you up to tonight?”

She looks lovely—all made up and beautifully dressed—her sister looks like Pippa Middleton and her dad and mom look like they stepped out of the opera scene in My Fair Lady.

I’m in a hockey sweater and with my rowdy friends—just wonderful.

I turn to my friends, “Go on to the Golden Dragon guys—I’ll catch up.”

Mr. Brookes is standing waiting, his black overcoat open, showing his tuxedo and white silk scarf. He’s looking very statesmanlike…and I’m feeling like a grunge.

“You must be Jay,” he says.

“How do you do, Mr. Brookes”—I almost say Mr. President.

“May I introduce my wife Edith and my daughter Sarah? Ladies, this is Jay Spenser, who works at the National Gallery with Kate.”

They say hello and I’m flabbergasted—Kate’s father knows me by name. I’m standing there tongue-tied and a little shocked.

“So, how did Ovie do tonight?”

“You follow hockey?” I ask dumbfounded.

“I have season tickets—when my girls let me out to see a game.”

Mrs. Brookes giggles. “See girls—we should have let your father go to the hockey game tonight instead of forcing him to go to the Nutcracker.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say going to the ballet with three lovely women constitutes force—wouldn’t you agree, Jay?”

I nod dumbly.

“It was so nice to see you, Jay,” Kate says, “Enjoy the rest of the night with your friends.”

I watch them get into a limousine and I wave as they drive away.

I just stand on the street shaking my head. Leo, you just don’t get it—that girl’s out of my league.

to be continued...

© 2017, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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