Just a Quick Game of Squash

Despite my recent truculence and my not-so-subtle desperate plea for help regarding a certain rehearsal dinner; there IS light at the end of the tunnel. Two nights ago my lovely Aunt Greer called to inquire as to my progress and recommend the Capital City Club as a suitable venue (lamb chop lollipops, thank you) and more importantly: offer her assistance.

Dad, always a peach, piped up in the background with "Hey is that my sister? Tell her she sure is nosy! Why is she asking? Is she offering to pay for it?"; an unhelpful salvo which, fortunately, she completely ignored. He than wandered off clutching a framing hammer mumbling something about "financial straits." Greer asked a few more pertinent questions concerning menu and drink offerings and suggested I call her later in the week.

This morning I got an email from Capital City with a menu and prices all laid out followed by an email from Uncle Milton (Greer dictates, but refrains from addressing the computer directly) with a few additional ideas.

Shortly afterwards I received another email; this time from my friend Strib Stribling with an attached menu from the Piedmont Driving Club. Strib suggested we stop in there together tomorrow because he would be on-campus "playing a game of squash."

My experience indicates that, among unacquainted men, awkward conversations are the norm, but I can imagine few conversations more awkward than the one required to arrange a pick-up game of squash, live, at the Piedmont Driving Club.

"Hey man. Can I. Err. I mean can you. Well, first off: I'm Strib. Ahem. Do you want to play with me? No! I mean not play with me. Squash me. I mean eh, can you come out and play? What I mean is - will you squash with me? Lets us two squash. Sound good?"

It sounds suspiciously like a Man-Date to me, but if that's what you're into Strib - squash away.

As I'm sure you know, I generally don't befriend squash players, but I'm making an exception for Strib due to his other sterling qualities and generally good nature. After all - I need all the support I can muster. All I've got going for me these days is an Aunt with Cold-War-quality negotiation skills and a guy with a name that sounds like a bodypart; but I think we're going to be a-ok.

Help, they say, is where you find it.