I grew up in a small town on Long Island. (Insert joke here.)
It’s name is Bellport, or as I often refer to it, “Dawson’s Creek light” – “Dawson’s Creek” because it’s one of those places where everyone knows everyone’s name and that, due to it’s location on the coast, comes alive in the summer and dies again in the winter; “light” because even though I dedicated my teenage years to finding my own Joey Potter, the closest I came was finding a cheerleader who liked peach schnapps a little too much. Even when J. Crew came and did a photo shoot at our little beach, when something cool finally happened to my town, they brought the ugly models, as though to say “Polo shirts! For mediocre people in a mediocre town.”
In all respects it was a quiet, average town, a town I neither brag about hailing from nor am ashamed to say I once called home. Until now.
The Girlfriend finally got around to reading the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue the other night, and God bless her heart for actually reading the text. Because while I may have picked up the magazine nine or ten times already, the caption on this picture escaped my eye every time.
Yeah, I live in New York City now and yeah I once saw Jesse Spano walking out of her apartment building. I know, I’m big shit now. But finding out that this girl lives in Bellport is like finding out that Rachel McAdams has fallen in love with and married her UPS guy. Honestly, I cannot wait to visit my parents again. I’m going to spend my entire day walking around the approximately one-quarter square mile town hoping I bump into Pania. And when I do? Well, one of two things will happen:
1. I’ll play it cool and make pretend I have no idea who she is, because every time I read an interview with an actress or a model they’re always saying that they like normal guys who aren’t awestruck by celebrity; or
2. I’ll make good on my promise to trap her in a hotel room with no phone and no means of escape and we’ll order room service together until she reaches a healthy target weight.
(Pania, if you are reading this, I’m only doing it because I care.)
(Pania’s lawyers, if you are reading this, I’m only kidding.)
(Mom, if you see Pania in the deli, call me immediately. Don’t let her leave until I get there.)
(Better yet, make friends with her. You’re friends with everyone else in town, why not her? Then you can invite her over to dinner. Jesus, I’m getting lightheaded over here.)