Free Lunch

So I made a new friend at work the past few weeks, but I think the main reason he might be a friend is because he enjoys taking my money from me so much. (Sidenote: Rachel also enjoys him taking money from me because whenever I make a stupid bet and lose--which is always--she gets to spend an equal amount of money on herself!)

So we were talking golf and we decided we were going to sneak out for a long "lunch" and do a quick nine holes. I must talk a good game because he wanted to play the nine holes straight up for the wager. Knowing that I couldn't touch him straight up, I managed to adjust the wager to the point that if I beat his score on one of the nine holes or tied his score twice, I would win the wager. From the way he talked I figured he was in the Mike Davis-range of golfers (which is pretty good for those who don't know Mike). I dialed Mike up to see if he thought I could possible beat him on one of nine holes. Alas, no answer (when I later did talk to Mike and ask him that question, he had himself quite a laugh). So out I go feeling confident that my lunch would be paid for. It was the first time out this year for both of us. I had to have one lucky hole, right?

Curses! (Seriously, you know what I mean when I say curses!) I lost bad. In fact, I only had one hole where I was close to tying, but he nailed a 25-foot putt to win the hole outright. He told me he knew after my first tee shot (a duff that went about 10 feet to the left into the bushes) that it was in the bag. I pretty much knew the same.

Unfortunately, due to my utter lack of self-doubt (which is to say my extreme level of overconfidence in my worthless abilities), I did not take my loss and move on, I simply moved to another sport. Basketball! Yes, I wagered on a one-on-one game. I showed up at his early morning ball game, played a couple hours, then faced him one-on-one. Since we all know how fat and out of shape I am, let me just say I was begging him to end it (I will add, however, that he was gassed too, as he couldn't hit a wide open layup for his life to end the game). It was a sorry showing, but I was so gassed after the regular ball I had nothing left in the tank for when it counted.

My saving grace is that I pay up. Words can't describe the grin on a man's face as he sees another man pay for his lunch, involuntarily. Logic would say that I've learned my lesson and I'll stop trash talking. The sad reality is that I'm most definitely NOT ready to do that. Tennis anyone?