On the Rocks(16)

I shrugged reluctantly, grabbed my purse, and followed her out into town.

Ten minutes later, we pushed through the crowds of the bare-bones seafood shack on the wharf. It was so crowded you could barely move, but everyone was happy and wearing sunglasses and their bathing suits, so it was hard to mind. “Hey, there’s Bobby,” Grace said as we squeezed our way up to the bar and the whirling blenders that promised frozen drinks and margaritas.

“Which one is he?” I asked as I eyed the preppy crowd, interested to see who Grace none too subtly was trying to set me up with. She was still very much involved with her boss, despite the fact that she threatened to break up with him on a weekly basis, so she clearly wasn’t interested in meeting someone. She was, however, very interested in helping me meet someone. In fact, it was beginning to look like her sole mission for the next three months.

Good friends who have no problem interfering with your personal life are so hard to find.

“He’s right there. The guy leaning on the railing.”

I eyed the waifish man slugging a beer and smoking a cigarette over by the bar, flirting mercilessly with girls who walked by. He looked like he weighed about a hundred pounds, like I could carry him around in my beach bag. You could almost see his ribs through his button-down as he slugged his beer, and for a minute I wondered how he didn’t pull his bicep from the effort. I mean, I’m not a snob or anything, but Grace had talked this guy up so much I was expecting someone who looked like he fell off the pages of GQ, not a man-child who looked like he’d get blown over by a strong wind. He was cute the way puppies are cute. You wanted to pet him and muss his dark hair and then lock him away somewhere so he didn’t get in your way or eat your shoes.

“He’s a little thin, no?” I asked, still staring at him while he chatted up some younger girls at the bar.

“So what if he’s not built like a lumberjack? He’s still cute.”

“Sure he is. Kind of like those hairless cats like Dr. Evil had in Austin Powers. Some people find them cute too.”

“Stop finding flaws with everyone because you’re too afraid to move on. Maybe you guys will hit it off, who knows?”

“No way,” I said as I shook my finger in Grace’s face. “You can never hook up with a guy who weighs less than you. It throws the whole power structure off. Next thing you know you’ll be the one responsible for jumping car batteries and killing spiders. Plus, how is that good for a girl’s ego? You don’t want to be known as “the big one” in a relationship. No way. I’d rather die alone.”

“You will die alone if you keep up these ridiculous parameters you have put in place for potential boyfriends. Do I need to remind you of Ben’s flaws?”

“What parameters?” I asked defensively. “I just want a guy who’s employed. Even though I realize those guys are fewer and farther between these days.”

“And that he weighs more than you do,” she added.

“And that he does not need a green card,” I countered.

“Is that all?” Grace asked in a tone laced with skepticism.

“Well, there might be a few more small things, but nothing major.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I mean I don’t think I could date a guy who chews with his mouth open. I have no patience for guys with bad table manners. I won’t be able to handle anyone who eats like a Neanderthal. Oh, and he can’t be a Jets fan. God, I could never date a Jets fan,” I said as I feigned a shiver just thinking about the New England Patriots’ most hated rival. “And he needs to have good teeth. This day and age, there is no excuse for an overbite.” I didn’t care if Grace thought that was hypercritical. I like a nice smile. Sue me.

“That’s all, huh? Yeah, you’re right, that’s completely normal,” she said as she pushed her sunglasses up on her head.

“Oh, and he needs to not be a khaki folder. But I think that’s it.”

“What the hell is a khaki folder?” Grace asked in disbelief.

“You know, the guys who stop mid-hookup to make sure their khakis are folded and not getting wrinkled on the floor. Those guys have issues.” I stared at Grace for some kind of validation, but Grace was looking at me like I was some kind of alien life form. Apparently, I was on my own on this one.

“You have serious issues,” Grace said as she flagged down her man-orexic friend.

That was hard to argue with considering the list I’d just spewed out.

We approached the bar, and Grace, despite her size, was able to elbow guys who were three times bigger than her out of the way. She ordered us beers and waved enthusiastically for Bobby to come join us. He crushed the butt of his cigarette with his flip-flop and ambled over, a big smile on his face. I felt a thought creep into my head that wasn’t the kind of thought I should have been having if I wanted to make new friends and start to enjoy my life again: maybe this was a very big mistake.





Chapter 5



Damaged Goods




I ALTERNATED BETWEEN staring at Bobby and staring at my flip-flops, afraid that if I made eye contact with him, my nerves would show. He gave Grace a big hug and shook my hand when he introduced himself. As Grace handed me a lukewarm beer, I scanned the crowd for anyone interesting, but the bar seemed to be filled with guys who neglected the gym, their hairlines, and, in all likelihood, the girls they dated. I wondered if it was too late to look into houses on the Cape.