On the beach with my friend Lorrie yesterday (and my beautiful children of course) I saw a man that I liked for her. He looked exactly like my friend Michael Weinstein, the talented and famous real estate photographer, who is absolutely adorable. This man, however, was shorter than Michael (though not short by any means — Michael is just quite tall), and he also had a pot belly (which I didn’t notice until he took his shirt off).
Lorrie was disgusted.
“I hate fat men,” she quipped.
“Oh come on,” I said. “He’s adorable. And you can always put him on a diet.”
“I have enough problems with Bogey,” she said (Bogey, you know, is her anorexic Wheaton Terrier who is on prozac and xanax).
“You made Bogey anorexic,” I pointed out, “so surely you can help this guy lose weight if you want to. Just take him to yoga.”
The man definitely knew we were talking about him, and he seemed to be enjoying the attention. I kept teasing Lorrie, telling her that I was going to go over to him and introduce them, and she was not amused. Finally, he got up, ipod in hand, headphones in ears, and marched off down the beach, stomach first. He wasn’t gone for good though. He had left his father (who had an even bigger stomach and a bald head, neither of which made Lorrie extremely optimistic about Michael Weinstein-lookalike’s future) his shirt, and his beach chair behind.
“Look,” I told Lorrie happily. “Clearly he’s on an exercise routine. He’s going for a beach walk.”
Lorrie pretended to read her book, which just happened to be the same book I had just finished the night before (but her own copy). We tend to do the same things that way. It’s called “I’d Know You Anywhere”, by Laura Lippman, and it’s pretty good all the way through. Another teen abduction story, but written nicely, easy to read, a definite page turner.
Anyway… I digress.
“When I see him coming back I’m going to walk towards him and speak to him,” I told everyone. I knew they would believe me after watching me speak to Speedo Man only days earlier, and they were all horrified. “I know,” I said, “I’m going to ask him if he lives locally and if he says yes I’m going to ask him if he has a fishing rod we can borrow.”
Lorrie laughed a little, despite herself.
“I’ll tell him we’re hungry and we need to catch some dinner.”
Lorrie had just returned from getting change for two dollars to feed our parking meter with quarter for another hour and fifteen minutes (yes, it’s $1.50 an hour for street parking at the gorgeous Del Ray beach, and if you really want to splurge you can rent a chaise lounge for two with a hooded top). “Why don’t you ask him if he has a metal detector you can borrow?” she asked cleverly. “That way we’ll never have to drive into town for quarters again.”
“Brilliant!” I agreed. “Metal detector it is.”
Alas, our hour and fifteen hours expired before he returned, but we now have the perfect beach pick-up line ever…
“Can I borrow your metal detector?”
And I am hopeful that Mr. Tummy will continue his beach walks until he has slimmed down, turning him into a handsome hunk for Lorrie.