Now I’m the guy coaching the Tinder-using crowd on how not to fuck up a hookup.
Three
Nicole
My girls are shocked.
As we round the trail curving along the reservoir in Central Park, Penny nearly stumbles on a twig, while Delaney shouts, “You’re kidding me.”
Penny’s little dog, Shortcake, stares up at her mistress with a look of utter concern on her furry features over the near-fall. “I’m okay, sweet little darling,” Penny coos to her butterscotch Chihuahua mix as she regains her footing. Then to me, Penny says, “You’re not joking?”
Admittedly, during our morning jog might not have been the best time to drop my giant-pumpkin-sized news. But sometimes you have to rip off the Band-Aid. Especially if it’s a plan of the life-changing variety. “I’m completely serious. This is something I’ve always wanted,” I say, as my Irish Setter mix Ruby jogs by my side. The calmer I am about my news, the more likely my friends will understand. And I need them to understand. Their support is like air to me.
Penny smooths a hand down her red pullover as we continue our run on this September morning. “Always meaning in the last twenty-four hours?”
“It does seem like your sense of always might be a tad off, considering this is the first we’re hearing about it,” Delaney says, her brown eyes trying to drill a laser hole in me. It’s a tough feat while running, so she’s unsuccessful.
“Always as in always. But lately, I’ve been thinking more and more about my long-term portfolio approach, and it seems like the time is now.” My heart speeds in my chest. I wonder if its pace is from the run or from the admission. But I pride myself on keeping cool and collected in matters of the heart.
“Portfolio?” Delaney scoffs at my word choice.
I smirk since I chose that word for effect. “I have a vision for how I want my future to unfold, and I want to take the necessary steps and make the best investments to ensure it happens.”
Penny snorts. “I cannot believe you’re using asset allocation strategies.”
“Would you say you’ve been considering this massive, life-changing plan for longer than a week, longer than a year, or so long we need to tackle you for never breathing a word to us before?” Delaney tosses out, as her arms swing neatly by her sides. She’s the only dog-free member of our pack. I’ve always hoped she’d adopt a small little mutt from Penny’s Little Friends Animal Rescue, because I think a dog is pretty much as close to a soul mate as one can ever get. Plus, we’d all be perfectly paired then, girl and mutt. No such luck. But Delaney finally opened her home to a four-legged creature a few months ago when she adopted an orange, six-toed cat named Crazypants.
“To answer the have I always question,” I begin, turning to Penny as Ruby and I maintain our pace along the leaf-strewn path, “it’s sort of like—how did you know you wanted dogs? You just knew, right?”
Penny nods as she brushes off a strand of brown hair from her cheek. “I’ve always loved dogs. I can’t remember not wanting one.”
I shrug as if my situation is as easy to understand. “It’s the same for me.”
“And you don’t want to wait any longer to meet the right guy? To make sure you don’t want to do this with a partner?”
I slow as we weave around the tip of the water. “Ladies, I’m thirty. I’m not getting any younger, and the pickings aren’t getting any better. I’ve been on the dating merry-go-round for far too long, and it just keeps spinning. It’s making me dizzy. Plus, let’s not forget I’m immune to love. May I present evidence in the form of Greg?”
Delaney sighs sympathetically. “He was such a nice guy.”
“He was extraordinarily sweet and quite good to me, too,” I say, recalling my ex from a few years ago. “And I didn’t feel it. I’m like a defective part. I’m the balloon in the bag that doesn’t blow up.”
Penny furrows her brow. “I’ve never come across a balloon that doesn’t blow up. Is that a thing?”
“Fine. I’m the bad starter on a car, or whatever the hell goes bad on cars that have to be recalled. You know what I mean. Clearly, there’s something wrong with me if I couldn’t even settle down with a nice guy like Greg.”
“Your ex was pretty much the textbook nice guy,” Delaney says about my former fiancé, a sweet-as-pie coffee shop owner who I brazenly asked out the day I met him after he whipped up a mocha latte for me with a heart drawn in the foam. We dated for seven months and were engaged for two. He was everything I thought I wanted: handsome, kind, sweet, attentive, and always ready with a caffeinated beverage with art on top.