I stared at her wide eyed, “You call this big bottom of mine stunning?”
Marie started to giggle, “One man’s big bottom is another man’s idea of stunning; don’t hold it against this guy if he likes curves on his girl- on second thought, do hold it against him.”
The room roared with laughter and I couldn’t help the small, breathless chuckle which abdicated my lungs. I couldn’t fathom that he would have been attracted to me let alone flirted with me; it all seemed too strange. I interrupted their merriment to finish the story and everyone frowned when I explained that I left with the female guard and hadn’t talked to him or said goodbye.
“But he told you to wait.” Kat said, “Why didn’t you wait for him?”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way, he meant ‘wait here’ or ‘wait for the papers’” I explained.
Ashley shook her head, “No, didn’t he say,” she lowered her voice to a manly tone which actually sounded a little like Batman, “‘Don’t move. Wait for me.’?”
“I think you’re reading too much into that.” I stood and began collecting empty wine glasses, stretching as I did so. The weight of the day made my shoulders feel heavy; I was tired.
“I wonder.” Fiona gave me a sideways glance as she continued, “You’ve always been clueless with guys.”
“Oh really?” I countered.
“Yes, really.” Elizabeth chimed in, “You are beautiful, even if you don’t believe us. A lot of guys- and, I mean, a lot of guys- like the big boobs, small waist, big butt, long legs, amazon woman thing you have going on. Pair that package with your curly auburn hair and big green-hazel eyes and some people, myself included, would call you gorgeous.”
I tried, with various levels of success, to change the subject as the evening came to an end. These were all women who loved me just as I was; of course they believed I was beautiful. The truth was I just didn’t especially like dwelling on my looks. So, I didn’t.
As I lay on Elizabeth’s couch that night I was surprised by the nature of my thoughts: I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I played the mostly one-sided elevator conversation over and over in my head trying to discern if he had actually been flirting. Not that it mattered as I would likely never see him again. I felt almost normal as I obsessed about something as mundane as whether a guy I liked, albeit based on physical attractiveness alone, thought I was attractive enough with which to flirt. However, before I let myself believe I was behaving completely rationally, I reminded myself that I just ended a long term relationship with someone I thought I was going to marry and lost my job in the same day.
A normal person would have been obsessing about one or both of those life-altering situations.
My last thought before I succumbed to sleep was to check the definition of ‘to Kinnear’ on Wikipedia.
CHAPTER 3
It was announced to me Friday morning, one and a half weeks after the worst day ever, that Friday night was going to be outrageous. And, by outrageous, Elizabeth meant that she’d secured VIP passes to a much sought after ‘club experience’ which I think was the trendy way of saying: we’re going to a new bar.
I was very motivated to find a new job and new apartment, although Elizabeth hadn’t made any complaints against my presence. In fact, she’d gone so far as to mention her lease was almost up and suggest we find something larger and continue to room together.
The idea appealed to me. Living with Elizabeth would be excellent prophylaxis against my natural reclusive, agoraphobic tendencies.
Even in my relationship with Jon we’d both recognized that I required a generous amount of space and alone time in order to behave with appropriate affection when we were together.
Maybe that was why he felt the need to cheat.
The idea struck me as one with merit. I tucked it away as a data point.
Over the last several days I did a fair amount of practiced focusing on the present: my present “lessness”- homelessness, joblessness, and relationshiplessness. Less was not more. Less was an unstable, uncomfortable place to be.
Jon was my first boyfriend. I went on dates with guys in high school and college but always first dates. Jon was the first guy who didn’t seem put off by my rampant randomness, he seemed to bask in it. I wondered if he would be the only one.
The thought didn’t trouble me as much as it should. In fact, it bothered me far less than the thought of never experiencing something like the smoldering warmth of awareness I experienced during my seven to twelve minutes with the blue-eyed security guard.