“I hate my head, and how these girls just got uglier in the last half hour.”
He agreed. “The fucking cycle, man. Since they texted us, and want to see us, we don’t want to see them.”
“But if they blew us off, treated us like shit, and showed no interest at all - we’d be sitting around cursing the stars over our bad luck.”
“So what do I say back?”
“I don’t know. Do you want to go?”
Coming out of the bathroom grinning, he admitted - “I don’t give a shit.”
“Me either.” I whizzed by him to shower and forget about the girls for a few minutes. As soon as I closed the door, turned the faucets and stripped down, I heard a frantic knock. I heard him yell over hot water -
“Open the door!”
“I’m naked!”
“It’s fine, just open it for a second.” I covered myself and opened the door a few inches, and he shoved his hand through the opening, passing me his cell phone. “They just sent that.”
Shaking my head, I looked down and saw a new text -
“Where do you want to get pizza? We can come near you.” Man, these girls were desperate. Still, I typed back -
“Let’s do it. There’s a great 1$ pizza place right by us.”
A moment later, another message came in -
“Okay. You’re going to meet us by the train rite?”
“Of course!”
A few minutes later, I escaped from the toilet to get dressed, and Daniel was sitting on my bed. “What’d you say?”
“I don’t know, man. I just told them to come here. Fuck it. We gotta meet them by the train.”
“Alright. Pizza?”
“Yeah, told them about the 1$ pizza place.”
“We’re getting classy, huh?”
“I guess so. I mean, I don’t know what the fuck they want. They want us to like take them out on a date, buy them food, pay for their drinks. If they didn’t both sleep over the first night we met them, maybe, but what are they trying to prove?”
Giggling, he agreed.
Dressed and ready, we strolled down our street to meet the girls at the corner of 33rd and Park. They looked different this time - somehow more real. When you meet girls at a party, the combination of drinks, low lighting and laughter makes them seem like carefree spirits.
At the party, they were. Just two fresh California-transplants living in Harlem. There was Amanda, the smiley redhead who was “into fashion merchandising,” and there was Marla, a short scenester who worked at Urban and had three tattoos.
Amanda listened to Daniel’s stories about throw-up, while Marla and I sat in the corner talking about free concerts we’d gone to as unpaid music journalists. I quickly likened her to the Marla from Fight Club and imagined her to be as maniacally unstable, and sort of liked the idea.
We got them to leave the party with us merely by the graces of us two being the only straight men there. And when the host passed out on his couch around midnight, none of us were quite ready to quit for the night. So, I suggested Four Loco’s. The rest was simple - because I know.
But a few days later, here we were again.
It’s at the followup that you see the flaws you couldn’t find under other circumstances - the amount of makeup they use, the dirty shoes they always wear.These revelations are sometimes sobering, breaking down the fantasy you built about the perfect girl you think you met.
Either way, we continued. While the girls kept talking about their visit to Ikea, we laughed about our day at Central Park and our “golden bronze” suntans. Before reaching the pizza place, we stopped at a diner where I applied for work, so that Amanda could use their bathroom.
While we looked at the menu, Daniel spotted Eggs Benedict and some sort of French Toast platter, and I was convinced. So we walked in, sat down, and told Amanda about the plan-change when she emerged.
“I thought we were getting pizza?”
“Let’s get pizza after,” Daniel joked.
They rolled their eyes, and ordered.
The meal felt like the morning after a mistake - no one really made eye contact, we all asked and answered introductory questions (so, what’s your major?), and awkwardly split the bill four ways - an uncommon event, I’m sure, for Amanda - who told us about being part of her high schools “Best Couple” four years in a row.
We didn’t care about manners, though - we had no one to impress.
When the diner closed at 9:30, we headed to the pizza place by our place, and Amanda ate a slice beside a pair of bums. Before she finished, she told us that it was “okay.”
We finally made it home by ten. Still sober and uncomfortable, we sat in the kitchen, talking about Halloween costumes - proposing ideas for the upcoming holiday.
“We should be Thundercats,” I told Daniel.
For another hour, we sat, confused. What were we doing? We were having a followup date to a one-night stand, pretending to talk about bullshit and be interested. We weren’t fooling anybody.
Still, we continued on with our small talk, disguised as big talk, while talking about nothing at all.
Finally, as Marla rose to go to the bathroom, Daniel pulled Amanda into his room, onto his bed, and closed the door. Thankfully, a move was made. As soon as Marla left the bathroom, I pretended to be disappointed -
“I guess they escaped.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yep. Damn shame.”
We looked at each other. Then away.
“I actually have some posters in my room - that I’ve been meaning to show you.”
I grabbed her hand, and her eyes lit up. “Really?”
After showing her the random postcards on my wall, I pulled her into my bed and we started kissing. Not a minute later, I heard Daniel’s door swing open and the hallway lights turn on.
“Yo,” I called.
No answer.
“Yo, is that you?”
“No,” he shouted. “It’s her.”
I shrugged it off, and laid back down. As soon as our lips touched again, the lights shut off, the door closed, and we were relieved. Just as I took my shirt off, the door swung open again and the lights hit the side of my face. We heard another voice, this time it was Amanda.
“Marla, are you ready?”
I turned to my unstable maniac - “you’re leaving?”
“Apparently,” she whispered.
After goodbye hugs, Daniel and I went to the bodega to get chips and soda. As we entered, I pleaded -
“What happened?”
“I don’t know, man. I pulled her into my room. We start making out. She’s like spreading her legs or whatever. All the sudden, as soon as I take my shirt off, she just says ‘I can’t do this.’”
“I can’t do this?”
“Yeah. She said she had that interview tomorrow.”
“At twelve-thirty?”
“Yeah.”
“So she didn’t even want to sleep over?”
“I guess not.”
“So what did she want?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know man. But as soon as I took my shirt off, she just freaked out and left the room.”
“Well…maybe you could’ve taken it a little slower.”
“I guess I could’ve taken it slower. But if she wasn’t even trying to do anything, why did she even come over?”
“Yeah, what did she expect? You hook up with a guy the first night you meet him, then you offer to hang out with him, then go over his apartment, then! just decide you’re not going to do anything?”
“What are you there for?”
“To talk about Halloween costumes?”
He laughed. “Yeah, that’s what they came here for.”
