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Talking about The Faux Scotsman

October 4, 2006

Did you hear the one about the Scotsman from Winsconsin ?

I think I see the ‘funny’ side.

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The Reason Why – The Faux Scotsman

Murphy is not me, Murphy is not my dog, Murphy is not my man, Murphy is Murphy’s Law.  We all know Murphy in one shape or form and 99.9% of us wish Murphy would move on to someone else.  I, on the other hand, had a team of individuals who wanted Murphy to take up residence in my little life permently!  The reasons for this was two fold; one, if Murphy was with me then Murphy wasn’t with them.  Two, my Murphy’isms were a heck of a lot funnier happening to me and then to someone else.  So thus the Murphy and Me “potty books” were conceived.
This site is for all of my wonderful friends, family and colleagues who laugh uproariously at my misfortunes and wallow in the sunshine while my dark cloud of “Murphy” heavily weighs down upon me.
Take, for example, the little incident that started this whole mess!
*DISCLAIMER: The events going forward are not embellished, because they don’t need to be.  The cold hard truth is sometimes more comedic than any form of exaggeration.
Quick background bio: I was married at 18, divorced when I was 26 and didn’t date anyone other than the ex-husband until 7 months after the divorce…mainly because I didn’t know WHERE to find men…ya, sheltered!  AND I find Scotsmen completely sexy!  Ok, now THAT is out of the way…
In my reasoning of finding a man, I felt that if I met someone out at a bar they would just be players.  If I met them online, like my grandmother, they would just be flakes.  Work was completely out of the question, because it’s just work.  The only safe haven for finding a decent man, in my opinion, was the bookstore.  Besides, I LOVE bookstores.  They are quiet, they are safe, and they make me happy.
So during my lunch hours I would head on over to Borders bookstore and check out the books on fountain pens and ink wells, look at the great coffee table books of Scotland, and peruse through the Archaeology magazines…my brother proclaimed to all of the world that THIS was not a guy getter!  Boy, did he not know what he was talking about!
During one of these little outings, I was checking out a really cool book on Fountain Pens when I overhear this guy talking with a Scottish accent!   Interest meter goes up!
I peak over the shelf to find out where this sexy voice is coming from and I see this guy wearing a BORDERS T-SHIRT!  Score!  I can approach him and not seem desperate!  This is turning out to be a great lunch!
I place my fountain pen book back on the shelf and I start heading over to where I last saw Mr. Scotsman, but I don’t see him anywhere.  Now this is completely depressing!  I start to turn around and I completely ran right into the man.  (Ya, Miss Grace herself!)
In his cute little Scottish brogue, he asks me if I need help with anything.  Like the great scholar I am, I reply that yes, I am looking for a book….You’re kidding!  Hello, I’m in a bookstore, what else would I be looking for!?
With a little smile he completely bypasses the totally idiotic comment that I have just made and asks, “What kind of book, love?”  I have completely melted by this point!  Look out Braveheart I have the real thing standing in front of me calling me “love”!  Woo hoo!
Kalel (that was the name on his name tag) and I spend the next 45 minutes looking for books on ink wells (I put it in the wrong place apparantly!) and we talked about Scotland and fountain pens, he told me about the meaning of his name.  Apparantly, it is Gaelic and his Aunt and Uncle named him and how he was just in Arizona going to ASU for archaeology and then he was going back to teach at St. Andrews.  Yes!  The subscription to the Archaeology Magazine was going to pay off!  Then he asked for my phone number so of course I gave it to him, are you crazy?!
Over the next 6 months, we have lunch together every day, he meets the ol’ family, spends time with my kids, we go on little day trips together and we book a nice weekend in Oregon off of the coast at a cute little bed breakfast.  Not to mention the ring he had bought for me.  Things were going amazingly well!  He was a true gentleman and he never put me in a position to have him stay over, since I was a single mom with two kids and he didn’t want to put me in an awkward situation.  We talked of us moving to Scotland and getting married and seeing his home and meeting his family.  Oh, it was truly magical!
During this entire time, my friends at work are having a good time teasing me and calling Kalel the “Hot Scot” and carrying on about the way he talks.  The receptionist loved it when he called so she could listen to his accent.   Yet, two of my friends were just a “wee bit” skeptical about the whole thing.
One morning, shortly after receiving my ring, Ladayna walks into the downstairs kitchen at work and tells me she needs to talk to me.
I always hate it when people start out that way.
She proceeds to tell me how she woke up at 4:00am so she could be outside of Borders at 5:00am to see how Kalel got to work.
(He rode his bike every day since he lived so close to work…or so I thought)
On this day, a lady dropped him off at Borders in his truck.
No big deal, he has a girl roommate.  I knew about her.
Then Ladayna followed her home.
Ya, I’m getting freaked out by this time.  Ewww.
When she gets back to work she does white pages search for Kalel’s last name and cross references it with the address the lady drove back to.  What she finds isn’t Kalel’s name, but a lady’s name (as coincidence would have it, his roommates name) listed with a Scott with Kalel’s last name.
She calls the number and gets the answering machine, your typical “XYZ residence” please leave your name and number, blah blah blah.
She puts a few things together and comes to the conclusion that he is married to this woman.
Ok, this may seem possible, BUT the guy’s name in the listing is most certainly NOT Kalel, it’s Scott.  She probably has the phone in her name because they are roommates and she wanted the phone.  Logical explanation.  Besides, I knew about the roommate.  I never met her, but I knew she existed.
I thanked Ladayna profusely for the concern and told her not to worry, didn’t she see my pretty ring?  Life is good!  and just to calm her fears I would ask him at lunch, point blank, if he is married to “Mary”.
Lunch came and it was lovely as usual and as we were driving by where I now knew where he lived, I casually say, “Hey, I’m thinking of renting an apartment over here.  It’s close to work and it’s close to where you work.  What do you think of “those” apartments.”
Ok, there was NO flinching.  Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.  I take that as a good sign on to topic number two.  Just a simple, “I haven’t heard anything about them, but it’s in a nice area you should check them out.”
We’re getting ready to go back to my work and I ask the big zinger.  “Kalel, are you and “Mary” married?”  Just out of the blue all cards laid on the table (almost), what’s the answer?
Again, no flinching!  He says “nope, we’re not married. I know it may seem a bit weird that I have a girl roommate, but we have talked about this before and there is nothing nor has there ever been anything between us.”
There!  See, no problemos!  Life is good again.
I am happy as a bug in a rug.   I still have my Highlander and a pretty ring!
Ladayna, on the other hand, wasn’t convinced.  She handed me the home number and just asked that I call it and talk to the woman.
Later on that evening, I was telling my mother the story and her and my Aunt Net agreed that I should call the number, just to see.  I knew that Kalel was out of the house since it was Boy’s Night so I thought I would appease the masses and just call.
She answers the phone. – Damn!  I don’t want to talk to her.  I already feel like an idiot!
So I start out my idiotic conversation…
“Hi, is this “Mary Smith”?  (Fake names if you didn’t already guess)
“Yes, this is she.”
“Mary Smith who is married to Kalel Smith?”
“No, I’m not married to a Kalel Smith, but I am married to a Scott Smith, who is this?” ~ Hmm, I’m getting a little nervous right about here.
“Scott Smith who works at Borders Bookstore?” ~ Oh, geez, this is going to be bad, I just know it!!!
“Yes, who is this?!!!” ~ ooooh, this is sooooo not good.
“Mary, does your husband have a Scottish accent and work at Borders?” ~ There is still a little bit of hope, yes?
“No, my husband likes to pretend he has a Scottish accent, but he is not Scottish.” ~ My heart has completely shattered at this point.
“Who the hell is this?” ~ What can I say?
“Umm, I’m your husband’s girlfriend and I had no idea he was married and I am sooooo sorry.” ~ Yes, I was that blantanly mortified and simple.
The usual questions of who are you, where did you meet, how long have you been dating, on and on and on occurred.  It was actually a very calm conversation, with no accusations or screaming.  She could completely tell I had no idea of anything whatsoever (ya, I’m the big idiot!) She was actually RELIEVED that I told her because she had an excuse to leave him….an excuse?  Now I’m an excuse and an idiot. GREAT!
And then my questions started!
“Who or what is Kalel?” ~ The name of Superman. ~ You do realize that my humiliation factor is rising even higher right about now.
“He said it was Gaelic!” ~ Nope, he’s a Superman freak.
“What is up with the Scottish accent?  Is his family from there?” ~ Nope, he’s from Wisconsin and has never been there before ~ LIES LIES LIES
“Is he going to school for archaeology?!” ~ He was going to school that I was paying for, but that ain’t happening now! ~ Phew, good for her!
By this time the only thing I could do is laugh hysterically.  Laugh at the lies, laugh at my naiveté, laugh at the jokes that will be told, and laugh at the “story” that would be told at Christmas dinner.
Needless to say, the Faux Scotsman got booted by the wifey and booted by the girlfriend.
I, on the other hand, spent the next 3 years asking for identification every time I went on a date!  (And I went to Scotland where there is a whole country of “Big Strapping Scotsmen”…or so I thought!  But that is for another day!
Bottom line ladies, if you date a man with any type of accent BEWARE and ask for ID.  If it’s a Scottish accent ask them if they are a Ranger or a Celtic supporter.  If they don’t have an opinion, they aren’t Scottish!  And K is not a letter in the Gaelic alphabet.
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