HOLLISTER
Even before our second real date, the “romantic adventure” that Ben was planning, it started to feel like he and I were officially dating. We’d text and talk on the phone every single day, typically at bedtime but also random times when I found myself needing to share something. Like how my rude neighbor was walking his Great Dane and letting it piss on everyone’s front stoop. Ben was suitably outraged on my behalf. I also asked his thoughts on pre-washed lettuce—did they really triple wash that shit or was I going to end up with salmonella? Not once did he tell me to stop bothering him during the workday with my inane thoughts, which wouldn’t have been out of line. I got excited the moment the phone pinged with his replies and found myself smiling like an idiot throughout my days.
We were both busy with work, and he had his daughters over the weekend which meant we couldn’t get together physically for a while. That meant I had to go to Mud Warriors by myself, and I wondered beforehand if anyone would mention Ben’s absence. Coach was the first to do so.
He approached me during our warm-up run, striding next to me on our loop around the field. “Did I scare off your man?” he asked, sounding not the least bit winded. I, on the other hand, was panting like a sheepdog in summer.
“He…has…his kids…this weekend,” I said.
“If he’s going to do the spring Mud Chase with you, you’d better both be working out during the week,” Coach said. “That course is no joke.”
I wanted to ask if vigorous sex counted as a workout but held myself back. I didn’t want Coach to think I was sexually harassing him. He probably got hit on enough by his female Mud Warriors. Besides, I wasn’t currently having vigorous sex with Ben due to our full schedules, although I hoped to correct that soon. Our sex-filled night had perked up my middle-aged hormones and left me wanting more. It was as if my libido had been hibernating and now remembered its purpose in life.
The second person to mention Ben at Mud Warriors was the attractive brunette with the rock-hard glutes. I knew she’d been checking him out.
“Your friend didn’t come back this week?” she asked. “He looked like he was having fun.”
“Boyfriend,” I corrected her, then marveled at my audacity. We hadn’t even discussed our relationship status yet, but my response had been pure cavewoman. Ben mine. Hands off.
“He had his kids this weekend,” I continued, “but he’ll be back again.”
Over margaritas and tacos, Jenna and Bridget got the full recap of what went down with Ben at our ballroom dance lesson and subsequent hot night of sex, and their reactions were predictable.
“Looking at your YOLO list was a dick move,” Jenna said, agitating her margarita with a cactus-shaped stirrer. “But the fact that the sex was great kind of makes up for it. If he was trying to give you mind-blowing sex so he could be the best you’d ever had, so what? You both got your rocks off. Isn’t that the point?”
“That’s what I decided,” I said. “If he wants to overachieve in the bedroom, who am I to complain?”
“But do you really like him as a person?” Bridget asked, wide-eyed and sincere. “Do you think Ben Rose could actually be the one?”
“Stop,” Jenna warned her, poking the cactus spear in her direction. “We don’t even believe in the one. That’s some fairy tale bullshit they tell little girls.”
Jenna denying the concept of “fated mates” struck me as insincere seeing as she was once head over heels herself. She and Eric were perfectly suited. They met in art school, and although neither believed in marriage, they were clearly soulmates, and to her parents’ dismay they moved in together at age nineteen. She lost him to cancer at thirty, and she’d once told me, after a pitcher of sangria, that he was the love of her life and she’d never let herself hurt like that again.
“I’m just trying to see if he’s my Mr. Right Now,” I said. “Not Mr. Forever. It’s too scary to think in those terms. Anyway, let’s talk about something else, and I’ll keep you posted on the Ben situation as it develops.”
“Rest assured, he’s leaps and bounds better than the guys you’d meet online,” Bridget said, pulling out her phone. “Which reminds me. I thought we were going to take a look at my dating profile?”
“I looked at it already,” Jenna said. “And it needs major work. You sound like a new age weirdo.”
Bridget’s face fell, and I kicked Jenna under the table as an ironic reminder to be less harsh.
“It’s not that bad,” I reassured her. “A little less talk about your yoga practice and spiritual healing journey and you’ll be fine.”
Jenna did a spit take with her margarita. “Sorry,” she said, wiping her chin. “Spiritual healing journey got me. I mean, seriously, who says that?”
I couldn’t hold back my own giggles.
Bridget glared at both of us. “I was trying to attract the right men.” She swiped through her phone to open the dating app. “But you might be right. The last person to contact me said he ran my profile by his spiritual guru, and that’s how he knew we’d be a great match.”
Jenna and I shot each other sidelong looks.
“Yeah,” I said, “I think we just tweak it a little to be less…”
“Kooky,” Jenna said.
Bridget’s head fell back, and she groaned in frustration. “Be yourself, but not boring. Sound interesting, but not too odd. I don’t know what I’m supposed to write on this thing!”
We spent the next half hour helping her revise her profile and then perused the available men in our age group. Bridget was correct. Ben was one thousand times more appealing than any of those bozos. He pretty much had it all—good looks, interesting career, sense of humor, dependability in times of need—such as when you crash landed your parachute. Sure, he drove an obnoxiously expensive car and had a boring wardrobe, but those weren’t deal breakers, especially not at my age. Back in my youth, I worried about what a guy wore and what bands he listened to. I once turned down a perfectly lovely guy’s invitation to dinner because I found out he was a Hootie and the Blowfish superfan. But things were different now that I was in my forties. I wanted to be able to retire someday, and the thought of living with the “cool” guy and his dog in their VW van and eating beans out of a can no longer held much appeal.
”What is it with these guys and snakes?” I asked.
“Phallic symbol,” Jenna explained. “They think if they show you their boa constrictor or big-ass truck, you’ll think they have a huge wang.”
“I don’t need a huge wang,” Bridget said with a sigh. “Just someone who knows how to use whatever they’ve got. I’m attracted to scrawny middle-aged intellectuals. You’d think that would make it easier for me to find someone.”
“Apparently not,” I said as we scrolled through pictures of men in tank tops and gold chains. “Maybe you need to filter for guys who work in tech or education or something.”
“Imagine the stories you’d have to tell if you went out with this guy.” Jenna pointed to one of the men with a snake coiled around his tattooed bicep. He was standing in front of a pickup with jacked up tires and a gun rack on the back. “We’re winking at him.”
“No way!” Bridget slapped her hand away from the screen. “If I got bitten by his anaconda—and I don’t mean that metaphorically—you’d be sorry you did that.”
Before I could start singing the line about anacondas from “Baby Got Back,” my phone buzzed with a text, and I pulled it out of my handbag.
“Ooh, is that your man?” Jenna craned her neck to see the screen.
I pulled my phone away from her greedy hands. “Maybe.”
I tried unsuccessfully not to smile as I read his message. It was a photo of Ben holding a tiny brown hedgehog.
Ben: Meet Luna, the divorced dad’s guilt pet.
“Oh, that’s adorable,” I crooned.
“Dick pic?” Jenna asked.
As I punched her arm, Bridget swiped my phone out of my hand and read the message aloud. Then she showed Bridget the picture.
“This is Ben’s equivalent of a snake pic,” Jenna said. “What does that tell us?”
“I don’t know.” I studied the picture of the hedgehog again. “He has a prickly personality?”
“I think it says he has a soft side.” Bridget looked up at me. “I feel like you’re downplaying this relationship. Is this serious?”
Had I downplayed it? It was all very new, but my feelings were real, and they were deeper than I’d expected them to be. Our next date would be a good indicator of whether or not we were going to get our relationship off the ground. Fabulous sex was one thing, but we were adults. We had to be able to spend time together without getting into a battle for dominance. We could save that for the bedroom.
“I’m not downplaying it,” I said. “I just don’t know where it’s going yet.”
“Hey, what did you decide about the Gambit job?” Jenna asked. “I heard from Sal that Aaron is trying to woo you over to the dark side of corporate life.”
“I decided that I didn’t want it, but I’m starting to wonder if that’s a mistake. Aaron keeps emailing me with details about the salary and the benefits. He even sent me one of those candy bar and mini balloon arrangements you get at the grocery store with a card that said, Pretty please say yes.”
“Chocolate bars. He knows you well,” Bridget said.
“I know, right? He’s awesome, and if I don’t take the job, I’m going to lose him as a client.”
Our server coasted by our table and eyed our nearly empty pitcher. She paused and caught my eye. “Another round?”
“Thanks, but we’d better not,” I said. “Work tomorrow. Just the check when you get a chance.”
She nodded and stepped away.
Bridget grabbed the last chip from our basket. “I thought you didn’t want to work for anyone else? You’ve been so happy consulting.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I turned him down. But Aaron is one of the main reasons I love my consulting work. I’m starting to think I’m going to regret it if he hires someone else.”
“What did Ben say about it?” Jenna asked.
Something inside me stiffened. Telling Ben about my job opportunity felt scary for some reason that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “I didn’t tell him. Why would I?”
She shrugged. “You two have gotten close lately. I thought you might have asked his opinion on it. I understand why you wouldn’t want to though. He can be a dick.”
“You can’t say that about him anymore,” Bridget scolded. “He’s Hollister’s boyfriend now.”
I shrugged and took a sip of my margarita as they waited for my reaction.
“So you’re okay with the boyfriend label? Wow,” Jenna said. “Who would have thought the reunion would land us here?”
I smiled the self-satisfied grin of someone who had experienced mind-blowing sex with a man who kept on surprising her. “Who indeed?”