"So weird." Kat wrinkled her nose. "Why are men so weird?"
"We have to be weird," Greg cut in, settling on the couch next to his wife and tucking her under his arm. "Because if you knew how simple we were, you'd figure out a way to procreate and find satisfaction without us." He held his hands up before any of us could contradict. "Wait. Now, I know what you're going to say, that you already find satisfaction without us. You don't need another person in order to be happy. Sure. Okay. Just like men don't need a woman in order to be happy . . . except, people need people. Being alone might yield satisfaction, but it's not what we all really want."
Finding true fulfillment for myself without men, without a romantic relationship . . . now that sounded like a worthwhile endeavor.
My attention lingered on Fiona and Greg as he placed a soft kiss on her temple and nuzzled her hair with his nose. He whispered something to her and she smiled, her hand reaching for his where it rested on her shoulder, their fingers tangling together.
They were such a unit.
My heart twisted uncomfortably and I recognized the root emotion: envy.
"Of note, it's already possible for women to procreate without men." Janie, still looking perturbed, rubbed the base of her spine and glared at Greg. "Through a process called somatic cell nuclear transfer. You can take cells from a woman and-"
"I don't want to know." Greg shook his head adamantly. "Let me live in my delusions of being essential. Can't you see my male ego is as fragile as it is beautiful? And speaking of fragile male egos, where is Nicoletta?"
Elizabeth smirked, turning her work in progress and leaning forward to grab her drink. "He's in Los Angeles filming until the end of the month, but I'll let him know you're missing him."
Nico-or Nicoletta as we'd started calling him-was Elizabeth's husband. He also happened to be a movie star and comedian. When he was in town he was a regular fixture at knit night, except he crocheted.
"I'm not missing him. Not precisely." Greg shrugged. "It's just that he's a good running partner."
"What about Alex?" I asked, "Why don't you ask him?"
"I did. He says he doesn't like to run unless it's from law enforcement. Plus, swimming is his exercise of choice." Greg made a face.
"You could go with Quinn." Janie's eyes moved to the side thoughtfully. "Except he likes to run early in the morning."
"Yes, I know. I'm familiar with Captain Never Sleeps," Greg mumbled, referring to one of his nicknames for Quinn.
"I thought you and Matt were running this evening?" Fiona asked softly.
"We were," he sighed, and it sounded aggrieved. "Or, we are. But he's late, some work business. Should be here any minute."
"Who's Matt?" Elizabeth asked distractedly, her eyes on the knitting pattern to her left.
"Our next-door neighbor." Fiona lifted her chin toward the far wall, presumably to where this Matt person lived. "He's a professor at the university, in computer science, I think."
"Fiona has seen his penis," Greg added cheerfully.
Wait, what?
I could almost hear everyone's eyebrows raise in unison as our collective attention shifted to Fiona.
"Really? Do tell." Of course, Sandra was the first to recover from Greg's odd declaration.
Fiona gave her husband an exasperated look, then sought to explain. "I used to babysit him when we were kids, back in Baltimore. Our parents know each other. He moved out here last Christmas and by chance we ended up neighbors."
"He also has a TIG welder." Greg glanced at his watch.
"Oh, good." Janie twisted to one side and then the other, stretching. "I've been looking for someone with one of those."
"Of course you have." Elizabeth gave Janie a bewildered but amused look. "Why do you need a TIG welder?"
"I don't need it now, but it's always good to know someone who can weld. Just in case." Janie, sitting on the arm of the couch, picked up and fiddled with her work in progress. She crocheted rather than knit and was currently working on a baby blanket.
"I agree with Janie," Ashley's voice sounded from the laptop speaker. "It's good to surround yourself with professionals or hobbyists of varying skillsets, at least that's what my brother Cletus always says."
"You know what I could go for? A professional hand-holder." Kat spoke to the green ball of yarn on the coffee table. "I love holding hands, there's nothing like it. I'd pay money for someone to hold hands with me."