“But you know he wants something to happen, and we both know you do, too.”
I thought about it for roughly a half second. “This could be just what I need. Something fun, no commitment.”
“ Right. Why should guys be the only ones to go after something like that?”
“Exactly,” I said.
“Okay,” she said, “I think we’ve talked you into it. You need something fun, something different, something…just something . Even if it’s just a rebound thing. So what? Hell, I’d take that right now.”
It made me realize I hadn’t asked her about her evening. “What did you do tonight?”
“Nothing as exciting as your night. Actually, it was a disaster.” She told me she met someone from Match.com, a guy named Bradley. “Not Brad. Bradley. I called him Brad once and he corrected me.”
“Really.”
“Weird, huh? Anyway,” she said, “remember that wine bar we went to a few months ago?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s where we went. His idea. So I’m thinking, okay, this guy knows his wine, I like wine. Could be a good night. But, no. He starts talking about how wine is made, which is fine for like, I don’t know, the first fifteen minutes. But he keeps going on and on and on about it, and I’m thinking, okay, this guy just read a book on wine-making and he’s trying to impress me with his knowledge or something.” She stopped and took a breath.
“Wow, that’s a lot of wine talk.”
“Too much. Way too much. It wasn’t even a conversation. It was a lecture, is what it was. But that’s not the worst part.”
Having made several trips around my apartment, I was getting a little tired of it, so I finally sat down on my couch. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
“He starts telling me that certain wines are aphrodisiacs. And, of course, he’s an expert on that, too, so he starts listing the wines that supposedly make you horny.”
“I thought most alcohol made people horny,” I said.
“No, just stupid enough to make stupid sex decisions. So I’m still faking interest in his bullshit, and then—then!—he says we should get a bottle of one of the sex wines and go back to my place.”
“No shit.”
“Nope.”
“So which one did you pick?”
“Ha ha,” she mock laughed. “That would be none . I didn’t even answer him, because it got even worse.”
“Oh, no .”
“He tells me, ‘ You don’t have to do anything. I’m an expert with my tongue.’”
“Oh, I’m sure,” I said. “Tell me again all the good reasons for meeting this guy?”
Rachel said, “I know, right? He wasn’t anything like that in our emails or on the phone. It was like he was a different person when we met up.”
“I told you.”
Rachel and I had a vastly different view of Internet dating. She thought it was the best way to meet new people. I thought it was the best way to meet new people who act one way online and totally different when you meet them, or the best way to meet someone who will chop you up and leave various parts of your body around the city for the authorities to find.
My view wasn’t based on any personal experience. I’d never tried it. My opinion came from Rachel having not one, but more like five or six dates where the guy was totally different in person. But still she kept doing it. As for the chopping up thing, I guess I’d watched too many TV crime dramas.
“I know,” she said. “But it’s so hard to meet people. There has to be one normal guy online, right?”
“Hmmm. What are the chances you’ll find him?”
Rachel sighed and I could imagine her falling onto her side on her couch, exasperated at the thought that she’d never find “The One.”
“ I’m not giving up hope yet,” she said. “But probably close to zero. You have all the luck. Speaking of that, as your best friend I’m morally obligated to encourage you to take it slow and be careful, but this time I’m not going to.”
. . . . .
There’s really nothing quite like sitting
I thought about it for roughly a half second. “This could be just what I need. Something fun, no commitment.”
“ Right. Why should guys be the only ones to go after something like that?”
“Exactly,” I said.
“Okay,” she said, “I think we’ve talked you into it. You need something fun, something different, something…just something . Even if it’s just a rebound thing. So what? Hell, I’d take that right now.”
It made me realize I hadn’t asked her about her evening. “What did you do tonight?”
“Nothing as exciting as your night. Actually, it was a disaster.” She told me she met someone from Match.com, a guy named Bradley. “Not Brad. Bradley. I called him Brad once and he corrected me.”
“Really.”
“Weird, huh? Anyway,” she said, “remember that wine bar we went to a few months ago?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s where we went. His idea. So I’m thinking, okay, this guy knows his wine, I like wine. Could be a good night. But, no. He starts talking about how wine is made, which is fine for like, I don’t know, the first fifteen minutes. But he keeps going on and on and on about it, and I’m thinking, okay, this guy just read a book on wine-making and he’s trying to impress me with his knowledge or something.” She stopped and took a breath.
“Wow, that’s a lot of wine talk.”
“Too much. Way too much. It wasn’t even a conversation. It was a lecture, is what it was. But that’s not the worst part.”
Having made several trips around my apartment, I was getting a little tired of it, so I finally sat down on my couch. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
“He starts telling me that certain wines are aphrodisiacs. And, of course, he’s an expert on that, too, so he starts listing the wines that supposedly make you horny.”
“I thought most alcohol made people horny,” I said.
“No, just stupid enough to make stupid sex decisions. So I’m still faking interest in his bullshit, and then—then!—he says we should get a bottle of one of the sex wines and go back to my place.”
“No shit.”
“Nope.”
“So which one did you pick?”
“Ha ha,” she mock laughed. “That would be none . I didn’t even answer him, because it got even worse.”
“Oh, no .”
“He tells me, ‘ You don’t have to do anything. I’m an expert with my tongue.’”
“Oh, I’m sure,” I said. “Tell me again all the good reasons for meeting this guy?”
Rachel said, “I know, right? He wasn’t anything like that in our emails or on the phone. It was like he was a different person when we met up.”
“I told you.”
Rachel and I had a vastly different view of Internet dating. She thought it was the best way to meet new people. I thought it was the best way to meet new people who act one way online and totally different when you meet them, or the best way to meet someone who will chop you up and leave various parts of your body around the city for the authorities to find.
My view wasn’t based on any personal experience. I’d never tried it. My opinion came from Rachel having not one, but more like five or six dates where the guy was totally different in person. But still she kept doing it. As for the chopping up thing, I guess I’d watched too many TV crime dramas.
“I know,” she said. “But it’s so hard to meet people. There has to be one normal guy online, right?”
“Hmmm. What are the chances you’ll find him?”
Rachel sighed and I could imagine her falling onto her side on her couch, exasperated at the thought that she’d never find “The One.”
“ I’m not giving up hope yet,” she said. “But probably close to zero. You have all the luck. Speaking of that, as your best friend I’m morally obligated to encourage you to take it slow and be careful, but this time I’m not going to.”
. . . . .
There’s really nothing quite like sitting
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