For a reason completely unknown to me, I seem to be remembering everyone I have previously dated as ‘Kevin.’ This is a strange phenomenon being that I’ve never dated anyone named Kevin.
I shared this information with Acehole, an asshole formerly known as Oreggano (will explain later), and she asked, “Do you even know any Kevins?” “No, not really. Maybe one or two through work or friends’ partners,” I replied and added, “Maybe it is a sign that I am going to date someone called Kevin. I hope so because, even if I don’t, I will probably call him Kevin. This could be why previous ‘relationships’ didn’t last.”
Speaking of calling people things, the other night, while rooting for the Lakers at the Super Bowl party, Cream Of Tartar sent That’s Not Chinese a message about a spade cat. Acehole and I giggled and then advised him of his grammatical error. “I like to call a spayed a spade,” I quipped. “This is going nowhere South quickly,” Acehole replied.
And so it was, Oreggano became Acehole, Cream Of Tartar became Spade, and anyone I date or have dated will be Kevin. I realize it’s a gamble, but so was betting on The Lakers.