the first, the last, the everything
Okay, fine. Colin might not be my first, but he’s definitely my everything. I think. I hope . . . because he’s right, you never really know.
Oh scratch that—I know, I so know.
Two weeks later I wake up at Colin’s to both our phones ringing yet once again. (Yes, I made him wait two weeks—what do you think I am, a tramp?) Everyone’s been calling us lately, if not to ask me about my new job as a designer at Vintage Vogue, then it’s to ask me what I think of Elisabeth being found innocent, or to ask Colin about his new role, or to ask the two of us how we feel about making the front page of the New York Post the Monday after Daisy’s wedding.
Yes, I was wearing my underwear in the picture, but the photo was taken from the side so it’s not as bad as it could’ve been had it been taken from the back. I have my arms and legs wrapped around Colin while he’s holding me, and we’re kissing. Next to us is an article about finding love in the most unlikely places, like the article I read so many months ago about finding love on the F train. It’s funny how things come around.
Even though it’s Colin’s phone that’s ringing, I answer. I don’t have to worry about things like this with him.
“Uh . . . hi . . ..” says an unfamiliar male voice when I do. “I’m looking for Colin? Or actually, a girl named Delilah.”
“Uh . . . this is Delilah,” I say.
“Hi, this is Jim Nukerson. This is weird, but I got a message to call you. It was a while ago. I’m sorry to return the call so late, but I’ve been traveling for work.”
“Jim Nukerson?” I sit up.
“Yeah,” he says.
“The Jim Nukerson? As in Nukes?”
“Yep.”
Oh my God. Nukes. Too many Coco Locos.
“Do you remember me?” I ask. “Cabo San Lucas? Spring Break 1997?”
“Uh . . . yeah . . . yeah! Yeah, I do! Delilah from the—”
“Trampoline,” we both say in unison, and then laugh.
“Yes! It’s me.”
“What’s up? What do you need?”
“Well, the funny thing is, I don’t need anything anymore.”
And then in one big giddy breath I tell Nukes the whole story.
When I finish talking and exhale, Nukes doesn’t say anything.
“Hello?” I ask.
“Uh . . . I’m still here,” he mumbles. “I’m just a little taken aback and confused.”
“Confused? Confused why?”
“Confused because . . . well, Delilah, I know we were both drinking heavily the night we were together, but you must’ve been a little more out of it than I was, because the thing is . . . we never had sex.”
Never had sex? Come again?
“We came close,” Nukes proceeds to explain. “But don’t you remember? The trampoline was too bouncy. To be honest, we never even got naked.”
“We didn’t?”
“No.”
Suddenly the night comes back to me and by God, Nukes is right—we didn’t get naked. He was just wearing a really tight Speedo, that’s all.
“So you and I never had sex?” I ask.
“Nope.”
Oh my God . . . this means that Colin is . . . I can’t believe it. After everything I just went through.
“Nukes, I have to go,” I say. “Thanks for calling back though. And good luck to you.”
When I hang up the phone, a smile creeps across my face. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe that after all this, now that I finally realize that it doesn’t matter anymore . . .
I turn to Colin, still sleeping next to me. Leaning over, I kiss his eyelashes, and then his nose, and then his lips. He opens his eyes and looks at me. As he reaches over and pulls me in closer, I snuggle into him, my #20 . . . not that it matters anymore. I hope he’ll stay forever, but even if he doesn’t, even if he leaves tomorrow, I know I did the right thing. This moment, right now, right here, is better than living up to someone else’s average.
I still find the thought of the sixty-year-old woman who’s had sex with seventy-eight men a bit unsettling, but if I end up like her one day, I hope I will have stopped keeping track by then.
And now I have an announcement to make.
Drumroll please! (Drumroll begins.)
My name is Delilah Darling. I’m thirty years old, I’m single, and . . . I’m easy!
(Deafening applause.)
Thank you, thank you very much.