GIRL 45
LEO CONSTRUCTION GIRL
The
analysis tools I'd been working on to separate the women from the girls
seemed to be working, but it was taking two weeks from the point of
getting a response from a girl to seeing her at the candlelit table.
Part of the problem was that I wanted this search to yield results. I
was not one of those smooth players who was content to look out the
window at the scenery of females. I didn't want a parade, I was
beginning to hunger for one deep, emotional relationship. One night
stands weren't supposed to be part of the picture.
I actually had high hopes for Leo Construction Girl. She was a business
chick who co-owned a construction company, and best of all, she was a
Leo, the slut sign of the zodiac. Her voice was silky and she spoke of
using her ex-husband like most women would use a vibrator.
I knew something was off when she volunteered to make our first date
start at ten at night at my condo. "Pack Your Bag" first dates were
inevitably awful. But I needed to know, was my analysis correct that
Leo Construction Girl was sexually hot, or did the equation need more
work?
When she buzzed at the door, I went down to escort her up. I was
dismayed. In person she was really big. Her profile had said "curvy."
After Leo Construction Girl, I only dated women who said their bodies
were "slender" or "athletic and toned." I didn't know how to be. She'd
come over for sex, and here I was with a woman who I didn't want it
from.
Perhaps if Girl 36, Squirt Gun Girl, hadn't come into my life, I would have tried to have sex with Leo Construction Girl, but I'd promised myself never to do that again. Then she begged me to let her go down on me. I stared at her with my mouth hanging open. How was I going to explain turning this down, after trying to warm her up for over a week?
Finally, my traitorous penis, Tyrannosaurus Rex, spoke for me.
"Okay."
When it was over, she stood up from the couch, collected her purse, waved at me and left.
I bolted the door and turned to have it out with Rex, the bastard. He was sitting in the club chair, a leather Indiana Jones hat low over his eyes, a satisfied look on his face, his hands behind his head, snoring softly. I knew he was faking it.
"Wake up, asshole," I said roughly.
"Asshole's next door," he said sleepily.
"Hell with you. What was that about? Squirt Gun Girl frightens you and you're soft as a dishrag, but Leo Construction Girl makes you rock hard and sucks you off? What, pray tell, was the difference? And how the hell am I supposed to know which one you'll end up wanting to play with?"
"It was her attitude. She had a sexy brain."
"You call a woman who comes over to blow you and nothing else sexy?"
He smiled weakly. "Well, yeah."
I shook my head in annoyance and went to bed.
Was it my imagination, or was I steadily becoming more dominant in my dealings with Rex? Was he somehow infecting the core of my personality, and was I infecting his? Was I somehow healing from what had brought us both here?
"Please," I heard him call from the other room. "There's nothing to heal from. You just quit thinking and keep girls like Leo Construction Girl coming."
"What about Girl Six?" I asked. It was almost unfair. He still pined for her.
There was no answer. Just before I faded away, I thought I heard the sounds of sobbing from the other room. No way, I thought. Rex was the penis of a pro football player given to me by an accident of fate. Rex never cried. Never.
I got slowly, quietly out of bed and tiptoed to the office. Rex sat hunched at my desk, my photograph program open on the computer, the lovely face of Alayna, Girl 6, filling the screen. Rex cradled his head in his hands, tears streaking down his cheeks, his shoulders shaking. Five months ago, it had been me sitting there crying while Rex rolled his eyes. Today, I had moved on, but he still missed her.
I swore I heard him say one word over and over. I still wonder at its implications.
"Mommy."
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