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A generous dose of allergy medicine circumvented a sleepless night, but I wake with cottonmouth and the hazy-head aftereffects. I have no recollection of any dreams, a good thing considering the dud that was last night.
Sunday coffee frequently occurs at the Double S, although not today. I wish to postpone seeing my friends until I deconstruct my feelings. I brew a pot of coffee, walk Princess, run two loads of laundry, and complete cursory housecleaning. Next is a trip to the grocery store for necessities and Blue Bell. Ugh. I forgot to get Darren’s preferences, and I don’t feel like calling. Instead, I grab one container of Strawberry and Homemade Vanilla and another of Happy Tracks with peanut butter cups and fudge.
The rendezvous at Sandy’s is at 4 p.m. It’s only two, which provides free time to fill, but I have zero motivation to do anything. Despite a gazillion channels, the only television shows are sports or cheesy Hallmark-esque productions. I select one and watch a movie about a silly woman who thinks she’ll find happiness with the sexy but vapid golf instructor instead of the nice guy right in front of her. The portrayals of these damsels in distress always disturb me. Maybe women used to be this way, but today we are smarter and make better decisions.
At 3:40 p.m., Princess and I drive to our friends’ house. I don’t want to admit what happened last night, but honesty is the best policy. A little white lie would be okay for this situation, but I’m the world’s worst liar, and the truth will get everything out of the way faster.
Jodi opens the front door. Snuggilicious greets us as though our appearance is the single greatest event in the history of the universe. Princess stands majestically while Jodi and I watch her accept Snug’s heartfelt tribute. Then the canines head for the back yard.
“You need to work on that poker face,” Jodi says as she reaches for a hug. “Let’s put the Blue Bell in the freezer. Darren’s watching the game with Doug and some menfolk, so we won’t open that until later. Sandy’s mixing strawberry daiquiris for us.”
I follow Jodi to the kitchen, give Sandy a peck on the cheek, and take a seat at the dinette.
“I’d prepared to lecture you, but you look miserable already,” Sandy says. “Did the bad stuff go down before or after you got home at nine?”
“How do you know what time I got home?”
“Tracker app.” She sets our drinks on the table and joins us.
“You might as well know, I got stood up last night.”
My friends look at each other in confusion, then turn their attention to me.
Jodi pats my hand. “You should have called us. We’d have come right over.”
“Wait a minute,” Sandy says. “You went to the museum at six. I saw that on the tracker.”
“That’s true. I went to the museum.”
“Did you go by yourself?” Jodi asks.
“No, but the man I went with and thought was my date wasn’t really my date.”
“Who was he?” Jodi asks.
“Don’t ask. This stops now.” Sandy turns to Jodi and says, “She did this to me last week, met her date who wasn’t her date. Yada, yada, way too confusing.” She rests her hand on mine. “Sweetheart, we see you’re upset. Please tell us what happened, but go slowly and start right after you sent the selfie. By the way, you looked super-hot.” Jodi holds a thumb up in agreement.
I relay the events of the unfortunate evening and say, “It’s confusing because the chemistry’s there, a wildfire just waiting to ignite. There really is this connection, but at the same time, he stood me up.”
“Technically, he didn’t stand you up. It’s more like he dumped you during the date,” Jodi says. “The take-away is you need a bigger purse, in case you meet up again with those sumptuous crab cakes.”
“Stood up or dumped, it’s semantics. Either way, I’m vacillating between disappointed and hurt, and pissed off and contemplating a crime.”
“If you’d let me pick out your dates, this foolishness could be avoided,” Sandy says. “A smart man will recognize you’re a catch and treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”
“I agree,” Jodi says. “Did you know that Sandy’s responsible for my marriage?”
“But we’ve all known Doug since grade school.”
“Yes, but we didn’t think about each other romantically until Sandy sat us both down and told us what’s what.”
“How did I not remember that?”
“I’m still upset that you weren’t interested in Felix. Did you see the paper? He made the list of most influential educators again. At least Fabio’s out of the way before you can mess up meeting Austin,” Sandy says. “This man’s got a lot on the ball, so please make an effort. Sunday, what time would you like to meet him at the Double S?”
***
LATE IN THE EVENING, I close my eyes and try to feel excited about meeting Austin. Sandy and Jodi make him sound like a great guy, but I’m hung up on Fabio. That fiery chemistry felt so real. How could I be so wrong about a man?