How to Fail at Flirting(4)

Felicia settled in the chair across from me, leaning forward on the table. “You might be more relaxed. Maybe you’d go with the flow more. It’s been a long time, girl.”

I couldn’t fault my friends for encouraging me to move on. It had been three years, and as far as they knew, I was over it. I skirted the issue.

“Have you ever known me to go with the flow?” I raised an eyebrow at her and smirked. “Besides, I can’t just get laid. It’s not like I can just pick up a guy at the drugstore along with aspirin and gum. It’s not that easy.”

Felicia shared a look with her husband. “You’re hot and live in a major metropolitan area; it is definitely that easy. I’d do you myself if I wasn’t so in love with my husband and his impressive—”

I held my arms up, palms out. “Do not finish that sentence, I beg you.”

Felicia shrugged and smiled sweetly.

Aaron took a swig from his beer. “Don’t let this go to your head, Nay, but if I was a stranger and saw you on the street, I’d think you were pretty hot. If you want to get laid, you can get laid.”

I cringed at his assessment and turned to Felicia. “You’re okay with him thinking that?”

Felicia looked me up and down. “You have the ass of a nineteen-year-old . . . Let’s be honest, he’s not wrong.” She held up her hand for a high five from her husband.

I narrowed my eyes and stared at Aaron.

He shot me a rueful glance and ignored my expression. “I’m married, not dead. I stand by my assessment. Why not test the waters if you’re ready?”

“I don’t want to have sex with a random guy I meet in a bar or because he swiped right. I want a connection.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever been in love with someone I’d slept with, not real love. I had no idea how different it might be to be with someone where it was real. Hell, it’s been long enough. Do I even remember how to do it? Somewhere in the middle of this conversation, I’d forgotten I was against the entire premise.

“I offered to set you up with my trainer. Wes is cute,” Felicia chimed in.

“Isn’t he dating someone?” Aaron asked.

“Details,” she said with a dismissive wave. “Nay, I’m adding sex with a stranger to your list.”

“What list?”

“The list of things you will do on the way to getting a life.”

Aaron grabbed a notepad and pen off the counter with a laugh.

“Having sex is not the same as getting a life. And when did you start this list?” I asked.

“About three seconds ago. And you could try for both things at the same time.” Felicia told Aaron to take notes, and he wrote Nay’s To-Do: and 1. Sex with a stranger at the top of a blank page.

“I know you. You’re a list-maker. What else?” She looked up at me, eyes bright.

I made a grab for the paper, but Aaron snatched it back. “My life is fine. I don’t need a list.” Except that all I do is work and I might be about to lose my job.

The two of them shared another glance. “Nay, we’re the only people you hang out with. Humor us.” Aaron scratched out his notes. “You’ll need to work up to sex, though. I’ll move it lower on the list.”

I rolled my eyes, deciding to play along. “Okay, I could stand to get out of my rut. How about ‘try new things’?” Maybe that Cuban place around the corner or joining a book club.

He jotted it down. “Flirt. Let a guy buy you a drink.”

“This sounds like an instruction manual from the fifties on how to land a man.”

“You don’t need to land a man, just to board one,” Felicia said, eyeing my sweater set. “And I think you might consider dressing more your age.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” I glanced down at the plum-colored, loose-fitting top and khaki pants.

“Nothing’s wrong with them, but you never look comfortable wearing them, and there’s no way those are your size.”

I shied away from revealing or tight-fitting clothes. Wear shapeless sweaters and pants a size or two too big, and colleagues don’t accuse you of being a slut. Unless your ex already told them you were.

Aaron read through the notes in his jagged script. “This is good. Stop dressing like you’re on your way to bingo. I’m also adding ‘get drunk in public and do something embarrassing.’”

“Why?” I never knew if a student or colleague might be nearby, or what they might think, so I rarely drank in public.

“Mostly because I want to hear the story of you doing something dumb.” Aaron cast a playful, brotherly look across the table. “And you’re fun after you’ve had a few.”

I kind of miss being fun.

Aaron held up the list triumphantly. “You’re agreeing to do everything that’s on it by accepting this.”

“Yeah, right,” I said, stretching to grab it from him. “These are all about hooking up with a guy. I want more from my life than that.” Also, I would need to google how to flirt before even attempting it.

Felicia batted my hand away. “Keep adding to it. And we’re mostly kidding—you don’t need to run out and get down with some random person.”

I read through the items and wondered if it might work. As I went down the list, I mentally added: