by Xavier Mayne
“Ouch. Lack of sex is making you cranky.”
Fox grunted in frustration. “Is this why you made me come down here? So you could remind me that I’m single? If so, let me say thanks because that had completely slipped my mind. I owe you one, buddy.”
Chad looked ready to issue a suitable trash-talk rejoinder, but instead he took a swig of coffee and looked with surprising intensity right into Fox’s eyes.
“What?” Fox finally asked when the silence got to be too heavy.
“I’m worried about you,” Chad said, all raillery gone from his voice.
A surge of heat rose in Fox’s chest as shame and wounded pride battled for dominance. “I’m fine,” he said. He picked up a plastic stand from the table. “Look, they do trivia here on Thursday nights.”
“You hate trivia, and I’m not gonna let you skate on this.” Chad grabbed the trivia placard and put it back on the table. “You’re not being Foxy right now, and I need to know why.”
“What does that even mean?” Fox retorted.
Chad’s expression softened. “It means we’ve been best friends for two decades. We’ve seen some shit together, and we’ve always been honest with each other. You were the first person who noticed that I was falling in love with Mia—hell, you knew it before I did—because we know each other better than anyone else in the world does.”
Fox gave a mirthless chuckle. “Remember that spring break in Mazatlán? When you and that girl you met on the beach ended up naked in the—”
“I’m not going to let you change the subject,” Chad interrupted. “There’s something you’re not telling me, and we’re not leaving here until you do.”
“Why is this so important to you?” Fox was unable to keep the frustration out of his voice.
“Because it’s important to you. You’re the man with the plan, and suddenly you’re not on the plan anymore. I don’t know who you are without your plan.” He looked searchingly into Fox’s eyes again. “Do you?”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Chad sighed and slumped a little, but immediately straightened up and was back on the attack. “When was the last date you had?”
Fox should have been expecting that question, but it still set him back in his seat. “Why does that matter?”
“Because your entire life has been structured around finding the woman of your dreams. You have a plan, and you have a schedule, and you have a spreadsheet. We talk numbers after every single date. Or we used to, since by my recollection the last date you went on was a week ago Friday.”
“You know what it’s like at the end of the quarter,” Fox protested.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. Even when you’re up to your balls in the end-of-quarter rush, you still make time for two things: going to the gym and having dates on the weekend. Now, you’re obviously still hitting the gym, because your biceps are about to rip the cuffs off that poor polo shirt—”
“This could be you, buddy,” Fox broke in, flexing his arms. “You just have to get out from under Mia once in a while and get back to the gym.”
“Shut up. We’re not talking about me right now.” Chad smoothed his own polo shirt down with a hint of self-consciousness. “As I said, you always make time for the gym and for dating. So what’s up? What’s keeping you from getting back out there?”
“Nothing’s keeping me from getting back out there.”
“So for the last ten days you’ve been so busy working, and working out, it hasn’t even occurred to you to go on a date?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because you’re you, Foxy. You plan the work, and then you work the plan. In college you kept a fucking roll of butcher paper under your bed so you could make a twelve-foot timeline of every assignment for every class you took. You taped that thing to the wall of your bedroom, and you fucking marched through it, marking shit off every day. You never missed anything, and you were never late. You got shit done. That’s who you are.”
Fox stared back at his friend.
“So when faced with sudden, inexplicable behavior changes in my best friend, it is my duty to figure out what’s going on. Because I love you, and I’m worried about you.”
Fox shook his head slowly. “You already think you know what’s going on.”
“I don’t,” Chad replied, but his veneer of innocence was not up to the task.
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You think I’m dating a guy and don’t want to tell you because I’m ashamed, and here you’re going to be the big hero and convince me to admit it to myself and live happily ever after with the man of my dreams.”
Chad’s face was frozen in a posture of supportive attentiveness.
“And I’m here to tell you that’s bullshit,” Fox told him.
Chad nodded. “That’s exactly what Thomas and Jake told you when you first suggested to them that they might be not so much best friends as actually in love with each other. They said ‘that’s bullshit’ right up until the moment they started making out on that camping trip. But you knew, and because you’re a good friend, you wouldn’t stop pushing them on it. Because you could see that denying it was making them miserable. Because you love them, and you wanted them to be happy.”
“Man, they were pissed at me for like that entire year.”
“Yeah, right up until they fucked the hell out of each other, and then you were the best man at their wedding.”
“I’m the best man at any wedding.”
Chad smiled. “There’s my Foxy.”
“Still not gay.”
Chad shrugged. “I don’t care. At this point, I’m really worried about you. I have no idea what’s going on with you, but I’m going to keep pushing you until you talk about it. I see what it’s doing to you, whatever it is, and you’re not going to be happy—you’re not going to be you—until you talk about it and deal with it and get your Foxy back.”
Fox glowered at him.
“And we’re going to fucking eat pancakes until you spill it. You’re going to tell me what’s going on with you, or we’re both going to leave here weighing three hundred pounds.”
Fox rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Look, what do you want from me? What do I have to say to make you stop acting like I’m keeping some kind of secret from you?”
“You need to tell me the secret you’re keeping from me,” Chad replied. “Simple as that.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about why you’ve suddenly stopped going on dates. Start with that.”
“It’s not like I’ve stopped going on dates. I just haven’t been on one in like a week.”
“There’s absolutely no difference between stopping going on dates and not going on dates. Face it, you’ve taken yourself off the market. My question is why?”
“Maybe there aren’t any good prospects in my queue at the moment.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe.”
Chad scowled across the table. “I’ve seen your photos, and I helped you with the twenty-seven drafts of your profile write-up it took for you to be happy with it. You are the hottest, smartest, wittiest sack of testosterone on that fucking service, and there’s no way they aren’t lining up to get with you.”
“That’s the fucking weirdest rant I’ve ever heard. And yet you can’t argue with a queue that has nothing to offer.”
“Give me your phone.”
“What?”
Chad made gimme-gimme motions with his outstretched hand. “Your phone. Now.”
“I’m not going to give you my phone. Why do you want my phone?”
“Because I need to see the parade of woe that you claim your queue has become.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. Now give.”
Fox sighed. Chad was like a dog with a bone. He was not going to give this up, ever. Fox reached into his pocket and handed his phone over, unlock
ing it as he did so.
“Okay, let’s see,” Chad said, opening the Q*pid app and swiping to the queue. He swiped, then looked up at Fox, then swiped again. He slowly shook his head, then set the phone down and slid it back across the table. He stared into Fox’s eyes, expressionless.
“See?” Fox said in a voice that sounded even to his ear fully as doomed as he felt inside.
“What I see, sir, is a queue full of beautiful women who not only score in the eighties, but who have, almost unanimously, messaged you their interest. This is a promised-land queue. This is the queue of your dreams. Your wet dreams.”
“Eww.”
“Just telling it like it is. So you were either lying to me when you said your queue has nothing to offer, or your definition of ‘something to offer’ has changed dramatically since we last looked at your spreadsheet.”
“I didn’t see anyone who I felt would work out.”
“‘Who you felt would work out?’ Really? Since when have you relied on feelings to determine which women you date? You gather the data, you run the numbers, and you meticulously target your wining and dining. You choose dates like the Fed chooses interest rates.”
“Well maybe it’s time I started thinking less and feeling more,” Fox snapped.
“Who. The fuck. Are you?” Chad shook his head as if he could simply not believe anything Fox had told him. “Or maybe the real question is who the fuck is this guy you’ve been seeing?”
Fox stared silently.
“The guy. The guy!” Chad repeated, his voice rising. “Who is he? And what has he done with my Foxy?” His eyes were wild.
Fox swore colorfully under his breath. “His name is Drew.”
“So, Drew. What do we know about him? And how did he manage to turn your life upside down in the space of a week?”
“He didn’t turn my life upside down,” Fox retorted. “He’s a friend.”
“A friend? Anyone who completely wrecks a guy in a week isn’t a friend.”
“He didn’t ‘wreck’ me, you fuckhead,” Fox growled angrily. “He’s someone I met, and we’ve hung out a couple of times. That’s all. That’s literally all.”
“He’s not someone you met. He’s someone that your dating service—the same one that’s serving you up a seemingly endless queue of hot women the numbers say are perfect for you—picked for you. Picked for you because he’s more perfect for you than any of those hot women. And—”
“It was a mistake,” Fox interrupted. “They said so in an email like an hour after the match showed up. They said it was a computer error, and it should never have happened.”
“And yet you went out with him anyway.”
“We did not ‘go out.’”
“Oh, so you didn’t take him to Table?”
Fox glowered silently.
“And you didn’t do the thing with the Jeffs? And you didn’t sit at your special table? And I’m certain you and the sommelier didn’t play your little will-she-or-won’t-she game with the champagne, because all of that would mean you were on a date.”
There was nothing there for Fox to argue against. “We were not on a date. It was two friends having dinner. Why are you so worked up about this?”
“Because whether you want to admit it or not, this guy’s knocked you off your game—the game you’re better at than anyone else I know. And that’s either because he’s gotten in your head and fucked things up, or because you’re thinking, at some level, consciously or not, that maybe dating him would be better than dating the women who are waiting in your queue like you’re a buy-one-get-one-free sale at Victoria’s Secret.”
“Those are my only two options?”
Chad, breathing heavily from his rant, still never looked anywhere but right into Fox’s eyes. “From where I sit, yes. If he’s somehow convinced you that you’re not going to find the woman of your dreams, that you should give up now, I’m here to tell you that’s completely fucked up.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Think about it, dumbass,” Chad replied. “You two are, according to the computer, almost like the same person. If he takes you out of the running, then all of those Victoria’s Secret shoppers move on over into his queue. It’s kind of genius, really, but that doesn’t keep me from wanting to rearrange his teeth on your behalf. Let’s see how many women he impresses after he spits out a few incisors.”
“You’ve never hit anyone in your life.”
“I would be happy to make this asshole my first.”
Fox shook his head. “That’s not what he’s doing. That’s not who he is.”
“Then you’re telling me he has not convinced you to set aside the system that’s been working for you—that’s hard-wired into your psyche—and to take up life as a monk?”
“No. We’ve barely even talked about dating, except to compare notes on how creepy it was to be matched with women so similar to us that it was like dating a cousin or something.”
Chad nodded, pondering this. “So the problem here is that your queues are just too good? Does his look like yours?”
“Actually, it’s kind of funny. We compared queues last week and found none of the same women. It’s like somehow we were supposed to be super compatible, and yet the same system that told us that matched us with completely different women.”
“And he’s been going out on dates? In between Saturday nights with you, of course.”
“Fuck you,” Fox growled amiably. “He’s in grad school, and he’s got some big paper he needs to be working on, so he’s not been going out much.”
“Except with you.”
Fox sighed. “Except with me. Whatever.”
“Whatever? Whatever?” Chad cried. “The Fox I know is the exact fucking opposite of ‘whatever.’ You’ve never said ‘whatever’ about the tiniest part of your dating agenda. There’s no way to enter ‘whatever’ in a spreadsheet and have anything meaningful come out. This is what’s making me crazy right now.”
“I still don’t understand how my dating life is making you crazy.”
“Because if things continue the way they are, what’s going to happen to you? What are you going to be left with?”
“Two Lumberjacks,” announced the waitress as she set an enormous platter before each of them.
Chad raised an eyebrow at Fox, as if she had answered his question quite aptly.
“I’ll get y’all more coffee,” she said. “Anything else right now?”
“We’re good, thanks,” Fox grunted.
Chad crammed an entire strip of bacon into his mouth. “So?” he said around it.
“So I should probably get a T-shirt printed that says Still Not Gay and wear it every time I see you.”
“Can I just tell you that you sound a lot like Thomas? Back when he was trying to convince you that he was completely straight?”
“He was mostly trying to convince himself,” Fox said.
“Mm-hmm.” Chad nodded supportively, which made it even worse.
“Fucking fuck,” Fox grunted and stabbed at his pancakes.
“Look, buddy,” Chad said in the tone of someone trying to reset the conversation, “why is even admitting the possibility that you might be into this guy so hard? What does it really matter to anyone? When Thomas and Jake finally hooked up, we were all relieved because Thomas finally stopped fighting it and Jake stopped moping every time Thomas went out with a woman. It made them happier than they’d been in years.”
“When was the last time you saw Thomas and Jake?” Fox asked.
Chad sat back, brow furrowed. “I think it was at their pre-Christmas thing.”
“And have you talked to them since? Texted? Liked a Facebook post about their pugs?”
“Uh… no, I can’t say that I have.”
“Thought so.” Fox went back to glumly chopping at his Lumberjack platter.
“What does that have to do with them being gay?”
“It doesn’t. It has to do with… us. All of us. We were
a really tight group, and then, one by one, everybody got picked off.”
“That’s a grumpy way to say ‘got married.’”
“Maybe I am grumpy about it,” Fox said. “Maybe I miss my friends. Maybe I’m the last man standing, and it’s fucking lonely. Maybe I’m realizing that if I ever find the woman of my dreams that will be the last nail in the coffin of our friendship.”
“Whoa,” Chad said softly. “That turned serious.”
“Whatever,” Fox said with a shrug.
“So, what you’re saying is that you put the brakes on dating because… what, exactly?”
“Because what’s going to happen?” Fox blurted, his voice far higher and louder than he’d intended, but he didn’t really give a shit anymore. “I would meet her, get engaged, get married, and she would be my entire world, and I’d never see my buddies again. Or see you, like, once a year at Thomas and Jake’s pre-Christmas party. We were friends, man. Think about that. You and I grew up together, and we formed the posse freshman year, and after that nothing could tear us apart. We were there for each other. And now no one’s there. At all.”
“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, okay?” Chad said gently. “But I have someone who’s there for me the way no friend could be. And I get why you’re frustrated, because you don’t have that yet. But you will have that, Foxy. There’s a woman out there who will love you the way no friend ever could.”
Fox stared at him. “Are you serious? You’re really going to sit there and tell me that Mia is there for you the way I was there for you—the way all of the guys were there for you? She knows all about the time you got so drunk you shit yourself in the back of Thomas’s car, and how you stalked Amber for like six months when she broke up with you for the last time, and how you cried yourself to sleep for a week when your dad told you he was leaving your mom? You told her all those things, and she listened to them and said, ‘Chad, darling, I’m there for you.’ Because that happened, right?”
“You’re being a real asshole right now.”
“You know what? Friends are assholes to each other sometimes, because sometimes a guy needs to hear the truth, and a real friend will risk being an asshole to tell it to him. We’ve been assholes to each other more times than either of us could count, and here we are, still friends. I can tell you anything, because I’ve told you everything. Now ask yourself, really think about it: does your marriage do that for you, or do you still need a friend?”