I May Be Going Steady With The Pool Boy

I May Be Going Steady With the Pool Boy

AKA The Story of One of My Most Awkward Moments EVER! …

Here in South Florida many of us have pool boys. I’m not sure what the PC term is: “pool men,” “pool attendants,” “stewardesses?” Frankly, I think “pool boy” is a compliment, as the term implies — hot, strapping, and young, like the ones in movies (I imagine that’s what they’re like out in LA). For the most part our “pool boys” are not the rippling tan cliche that’ll turn you into a Mrs. Robinson, no, they’re run of the mill guys, some young, some lifers.

For instance, my last one looked more like a plumber in an SNL skit and the one before that had the rawhide face of aged leather, but the one in this story is fine. Not F-I-N-E, fine, but fine in a, he-keeps-the-PH-balanced-so-my-pool-doesn’t-turn-green, kinda way.  In fact, he’s a little smarmy looking, he has an overly weathered face that looks out of place with his body, an untamed goatee, and I’ve got an inch or two on him (in flats).

A couple weeks back, there was something stuck in the drain that he couldn’t dislodge. Now mind you, it’s winter. I’m sure it’s not the winter you’re having up north — 1000 below zero temperature (I’m in the know, I watch Hoda and Kathy Lee), so the pool is not optimum temperature for anyone, who doesn’t live in Russia, to jump in.

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to get the husband to fish that out later or it’ll clog the coangudrolic system.” said the pool fella.

“Yeah right, I’m sure my husband will get right on that.”

“I get it, he won’t jump in. You know what, I got it.” (Pauses takes off shirt to show rippling chest, that he clearly spends way too many hours admiring, kicks off shoes and jumps in. Reemerges, glistening with the culprit: a stubborn piece of palm frond. He shakes hair as if in Pantene commercial, and hands me the piece of palm, in case I want to further investigate it.)

“Um thanks, I’ll send it to the lab.” I reply, not feeling the sexiness he is so desperately trying to exude.

He then looks at me the way I imagine Superman looks at Lois after saving her from a breaking dam  … again.

Now I’m thinking, he just mentioned my husband to see what my response would be. Also, I’m not so sure the coanudrolic system is a real thing.

Did I mention this is one of the most awkward moments ever? No, that’s because it’s not, the moment that occurred next is.

“You know my girlfriend is very jealous of you?” he said slowly drip drying.

“I’m sorry, what? Huh? Who’s your girlfriend, and why does she have any feelings about me whatsoever?”

“She was in the truck about a month ago and saw you leave and she thinks you’re very pretty, but don’t worry, I told her we’re just friends.”

Okay, NOW it’s the most awkward moment ever.

Which to address first: Thank your jealous girlfriend for calling me pretty or YOU TOLD YOUR GIRLFRIEND WHAT???

“She was very upset, so I explained …”

“Listen, ummmm. I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.”

“Gil.”

“OK, Gil, I don’t know why you would say we’re friends.”

“Well, we’re not more than friends, (pause).”

“No we’re not.” I said, filling the pause.

“So, I wanted to make that clear.”

“Yes, but between ‘more than friends’ and total enemies there is a whole spectrum of explanations of our relationship. Like say, acquaintances, we know each other in passing, she’s a client, I clean her pool (not meant as innuendo!) … I mean, do you not service other women.” Oh G-d can I take that back? Worst phrasing ever!

“Of course I do”

“Is she jealous of them?

“No, because I’m not friends with them.”

“You’re not friends with me.”

“So what, you’re saying is you wouldn’t be friends with the pool guy?”

Sorry, I meant NOW it’s the most awkward moment ever.

“No, I have no problem being friends with a pool guy, I just happen to not be friends with you, who happens to be a pool guy.”

Listen people, before you get all huffy and think I’m being classist or “jobbist,” I’m not friends with my gynecologist either.

“I’m sorry, you need to explain to your girlfriend that we aren’t friends or enemies or anything … and I think you should put your shirt on.”

As everyone knows, It’s weird having a conversation about your friendship with the pool guy when his nipples are all cold and pointing in your face.

He put on his shirt, slipped on his flip-flops, made sure his chip was squarely centered on his shoulder and left in a huff.

Then yesterday, he and his girlfriend came to clean my pool … together. When I walked to the back door to let the dog in, she gave me a look that said, “Oh I’ll cut you bitch.” and he gave me a wink that said, “You get it, she insisted on coming, I hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship.”

When they left I called to request a replacement pool steward.

“What seems to be the problem?” Said the unaware receptionist.

“My coangudrolic system needs better maintenance.”

“I’m sorry there’s no such thing as a coangudrolic system ”

I knew it!

Eh, screw it, I’m getting a motorized pool cleaner and we’re going to be the BFFs!

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21 thoughts on “I May Be Going Steady With The Pool Boy

  1. Lisa

    Thanks for providing my lunch break entertainment… I love this. I also think it’d be a totally hilarious social experiment to approach strangers with the same lines the pool boy used. ‘Just so you know, my husband is quite jealous of you. But don’t worry, I told him we were just friends.’ … I bet the reactions would be pretty great.
    Lisa recently posted…How I ended up with a Turkish rug I never knew I wanted.My Profile

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  2. Bari

    Fabously written, I had a great visual all through this piece. Sorry about your discomfort… I think this may be the beginning of a stalker book. The pool guy is totally obsessed with your beauty and really wanted to win your affection uh, friendship with his heroism… Watch out for the biatch, she sounds like the smoking gun in this story.

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  3. Tressa

    Ouch. I have zero experience with pool boys, but have supervised a construction crew for 20 years. Years ago I came up with this answer to the whole “friend” issue.

    First Strike: I can’t be your friend, I’m your employer. This doesn’t mean I don’t like or am unappreciative of you, but that at the end of the day I’m always going to be more worried about you suing me for sexual harassment than whether you’re feeling warm and fuzzy.

    Second Strike: My defination of friend is someone I can call at two am and commiserate over the yellow and reddish goo that burns as it oozes in massive clumps out of my vagina… Are you my friend? (usually they run before I get to the last sentence).

    Third Strike: Go to the office and tell them I fired you.

    I’d wish you good luck, but you’re in Florida. With a pool. So suck it up buttercup.

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  4. Emily

    I don’t know what makes me more jealous – the fact that you live in South Florida (yes, I am one of those up North people freezing her butt off) or the fact that the pool guy thinks you’re cute. Yeah, I know it creeped you out, but we don’t have “fun” stories like that up here because we don’t have pool guys. I guess there’s always the landscape guy, but he’s a smart dude and hanging in Mexico for the winter. :)
    Emily recently posted…How To Convince 3 Boys To Watch The Red CarpetMy Profile

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