J-Rod

12/2003

My friend, J-Rod, is seeing a great guy I like to call BobbyNoSocks.

They met in the charming town of Angel Fire, New Mexico, a place that is destined to become the next Aspen, in a good way (at least according to J-Rod). J-Rod was shopping for property
(being the wise investor she is) and BobbyNoSocks was after the same ski-in ski-out condo. When push came to shove, J-Rod got the place and before the deal was over she’d knocked the socks off the other bidder, a man who was once known simply as “Rob.”

Knowing J-Rod the way I do, this didn’t surprise me in the least. I know at least three men who are still looking for their socks.

BobbyNoSocks was undaunted. He figured since he’d lost the condo he might as well go for the girl. And that’s how he lost his socks. He went from being “Rob” to being BobbyNoSocks in one unsuccessful real estate transaction.

But J-Rod liked him and agreed to see him the next month in Chicago where he lost his socks again. Poor guy. He tried finding his socks, even went out and bought new socks only to meet J-Rod in New York City a week later.

It’s not his fault. It’s hers. She’s the J-Rod.

She knocked this guy’s socks off from the very start. He’s never been the same and I mean that in the nicest way because although J-Rod is as athletic as her name suggests, she’s also the sweetest thing on earth and I have a feeling BobbyNoSocks better get used to being barefoot.

The following are examples of J-Rod’s current lifestyle: J-Rod bakes and decorates the most impressive Christmas cookies this side of Martha Stewart.

No socks.

She shoots trap well enough to make grown men weep.

No socks.

J-Rod looks incredible on any beach in any attire.

No socks.

J-Rod can iron a shirt, create a winning ad campaign, and win a game of Scrabble…all at the same time.

Socks? I don’t think so.

I happen to know that BobbyNoSocks is getting socks for Christmas. Somehow I suspect it won’t matter.