by Romi Hart
I could buy her, I could buy a dozen girls just like her by barely opening my wallet. But I don’t want sex with THEM. For some reason, I want her. And I want dialog, not just consummation. More than sex, I want to penetrate her mind. I want to know why she hates me, why she hates men. Why she hates the world…is it the same reason I hate the world? Or is it something else?
Or maybe I just want to know what it’s like to be young and hopeful again. Maybe we both want the same thing. To feel special…to feel innocent.
Whatever it is, I do feel the need to speak with Maya right away. But maybe a change of scenery is necessary. Maybe it’s time she learns that I really am not that terrible a guy…just slightly jaded from a lifetime of getting too much of a good thing.
Chapter 3
Maya
It’s such a hard blow to take when you find out your instincts are wrong. Being wrong is not that bad. Being a kid in school, you’re always wrong. It’s no big deal. Choosing the wrong answer, making an impulsive decision, everyone is wrong sometimes.
But when your instincts are wrong, your judgment is wrong…it’s such a devastating blow to take. It’s no longer about you speaking out of line or you not getting the lesson. It’s about your flawed perspective of life. Your stupidity. Your completely oblivious nature. You’re fucking Darwinism ready to happen. You can’t think for yourself. Every decision you ever make is wrong. You were so sure of something, weren’t you? But your values were stupid. Your intelligence was non-existent.
I never thought Zander was a great man, or even a nice respectable gentleman. I accepted that he was a diamond in the rough, a man who needed a big heart to heal him or love him like his parents never could.
You know, the same stupid virgin shit that every stupid virgin girl says about her teen heartthrob—before she realizes how full of shit he is. Well, Zander is no teen heartthrob. He’s a man of the people. Loved for his humanitarian work. Loved for his charity. But what’s he like as a person? A piece of shit who fucks anything that moves. That I know from experience.
My parents warned me about him. I didn’t listen because I thought I understood something…not about him, but something deep and profound about life. Believing all this horseshit about people deserving a second chance. About hoping for the best in humanity. No one should ever feel this way…no one should ever believe in anything.
Maybe, all things considered, it’s better that I just stay alone this Valentine’s Day. Maybe I should just suffer and contemplate how love is all a sham and how only rich dickheads prosper in the world.
“Hey,” I hear a voice call from behind me. I’m so alarmed I drop my Subway sandwich. Who can blame me…pondering on the futility of love makes a girl very hungry.
“Hey yourself,” I say almost vengefully. I turn around and notice a guy standing there. Kind of tall, a little stocky, balding and tan. He seems like the type of guy I would usually patronize, just to be nice, just to let him think he has a chance with me.
“You’re really pretty.”
“Thanks.”
“Sorry, I know that’s weird and awkward to say. But I just saw you sitting here, looking all sad and beautiful, and I thought maybe I could cheer you up.”
“Well,” I laugh the idea off, “I doubt it. But I guess you can try.”
“Well my name’s Billy and I raise chickens.”
“For real? Chickens? Like real chickens?”
“Yeah, real chickens, not like those fake robot chickens.”
I laugh against my will. “Ah, cool. Real chickens. Name’s Maya.”
“Well, anyway,” he continues, “I was constructing a chicken coop last week because I sell them on the side. And I realized I only had two doors to attach to the frame. Weird, right?”
“Chicken coops only have two doors?”
“Well yeah…because if they had four doors it would be called a chicken sedan.”
“Chicken sedan? What is that…oh, fuck me!” I laugh harder, dropping most of the lettuce out of my sandwich.
“You fell for it.”
“You don’t really raise chickens, do you?”
“No, I’m actually an agronomy sales representative. But I meet so many farmers, I’ve heard just about every chicken joke ever written. You know what you call a dirty chicken joke?”
“No, what?”
“Fowl language.”
I laugh again, amused at Billy’s innocent smile and his childish sense of humor. He is definitely the opposite of Zander Troy. And maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe sometimes a virgin just deserves someone sweet.
Billy’s fashion choices make me laugh. He’s the type of guy who would just throw on a t-shirt and jeans, not really giving a damn what anyone thinks about him. His smile is contagious, so oblivious to the insecurity of rich, good-looking people. He really is another being altogether, someone not easily phased or easily bought and traded.
I gave my number to Billy, since he asked in a hurried moment right before we said goodbye. I almost said no. I even started to recall my notes about the whole, “Not attracted to you” thing. But then I suddenly decided, you know what? Why bother.
Why am I judging Billy for being just a regular guy? Why am I resenting him for being the opposite of Zander and making me laugh and feel good about myself? Maybe my new philosophy in life SHOULD be to just be nice to nice guys, until they turn out to be dickheads. Like Zander was and is and always will be.
Now Billy is talking to me again. He called me once before, but I blew him off because I was tired and starving for a private lunch. Just like an obedient dog, he heeded…and now he’s back again. Calling me late at night before bed, probably when I’m at my most vulnerable.
Should I resent him for trying to earn points with me? Or should I respect him for trying so hard when I certainly don’t deserve anything better than a creep like Zander?
“Hey Billy,” I say tiredly, rolling over in bed and feeling the intimacy of his voice against my ear.
“Just called to wish you a good night.”
“Well, aren’t you sweet.”
“Oh crap. That’s not what a guy wants to hear.”
I laugh. “Why would you say that? There’s nothing wrong with being sweet.”
“Nothing much right about it either. I have to be honest. I just really like you. When I first saw you, a powerful force came over me, saying…Oh my god. This is the best looking woman I am ever going to meet. I have to at least say hello!”
“Aww.”
“No, don’t ‘aww’!” he replies to my laughter. “And now I have the strange urge to just lay it all out there and humiliate myself. I have to ask you out. I have to have a conversation with you. My curiosity just won’t leave me alone. I really just want to have tacos with you and entertain you with poorly written jokes.”
“Well, there’s nothing much to tell, Billy. I’m pretty dull.”
“No way. You got the look.”
“The look?”
“Yeah, the look! Like you’re almost too smart for your own good. Like you’re a poet or a deep thinker. Or someone who’s going to be a winner in the game of life. Maybe that’s why you were looking so sad the other day. All geniuses are a little sad.”
“Hmm…you may be right about that. I accept the title of genius.”
“Cool.”
“But what is your title? If I’m a genius, what does that make you? What do you want to be known as?”
“Hmm, I like the title Sex God.”
I guffaw again. “Well that’s fair, I guess.”
“Hey, I can always sample for you. You know, if there’s any doubt...”
“Uhhh…I think I’d rather hear more about your job. Like what is agronomy?”
“The art of telling chicken jokes,” he says. “Girl, if you were a chicken you’d be impeccable.”
I laugh hard again, unable to defend myself at the sheer awfulness of these jokes.
If anything, Billy has proven to me that he’s not “
chicken” when it comes to trying to sweet-talk me. But I still feel bothered by the fact that I would rather him bore me with details about his job, and hear more “fowl jokes”, then actually let him try to be romantic. I’ve put up a shield against his advances and I don’t know why.
He’s cooperating too, bless his heart. He knows he’s not supposed to be a horn dog if I’ve told him that’s not what I want from him. So why is it okay for Zander to be a horn dog, especially when I hate his guts? Is it some weird rule that says you have to resent people you have sex with?
Or maybe my body just knows what it wants. That’s the theory I hear about all the time, that we don’t actually choose our lovers consciously. Our body chemistry just knows when we meet a compatible match. Our scent, our pheromones know what we need. We get together with people whose genes are evolutionarily beneficial.
Not saying I believe that, of course, but it may explain the sad fact of why I don’t feel attracted to Billy…but still enjoy his company. Zander, on the other hand, I despise his company.
But I still can’t seem to dump him mentally. Get him out of my head, once and for all. But maybe Billy will serve a purpose. Maybe if I spend more time with him I’ll gradually feel something. At least I won’t be alone for Valentine’s Day. He’ll get what he wants, sex—what all men want! —and I’ll get some reassurance that I am beautiful, lovable, and NOT some guy’s second choice.
My phone conversations with Billy have been somewhat bland. Very safe. Friendly. I like hearing him talk, I like him telling me I’m pretty. But I can’t seem to make the mental shift into letting him anywhere near my panties. Even over the phone. I just don’t want to talk to Phone Sex Billy. I don’t like that guy, have no interest in him. Fun, Goofy Billy is cool. Sex God Billy doesn’t work for me. His voice is not quite right. He’s goofy, he’s charming when he wants to be. But he doesn’t really command my attention. He doesn’t look me in the eye and make me…
Ugh.
Speaking of looking me in the eye, I’m suddenly repulsed by my Subway sandwich and drop it down on the packaging. I actually love Subway, but lately, guys have made eating alone here awkward and annoying.
“I thought I would find you here,” Zander says. Very surprised to know his ego could fit in the store!
He walks towards me, nodding his head and ignoring my death-to-you stares. He doesn’t even ask for permission to sit down! He just kidnaps me into this conversation.
“I do not consent!” I warn him.
“Consent? Darling, I’m not even trying to steal third base yet, am I?”
“Darling! There you go again. God, Zander. You really have no respect whatsoever, do you?”
“Why is darling such a bad word nowadays?”
“Because I do not consent to you calling me ‘darling’. I don’t consent to you sitting across from me at this table. But none of that matters to you, does it?”
“I’m sorry, Maya. Okay? I actually came here to apologize. Nothing else.”
“How the fuck did you even know I was here?!”
“Well…someone told me you come here for lunch four out of five days a week.”
“Ew. Seriously? You asked Renee where to find me?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Renee, who I no longer even LIKE, and who you had SEX with…you asked her for booty call information on me?”
“No, no,” he says with a pained face. “This is not about sex. I promise. This is about me apologizing for my jackass behavior.”
“Go on.”
“I’m sorry I was rude to you.”
“And?”
“Let me finish! I’m sorry I scored with your best friend.”
“She’s not my friend, not anymore. That’s not what girls do to each other. Renee knew I liked you and she betrayed me. You only get once chance with me.”
He stares and so I repeat myself loud and clear.
“I said, you only get once chance with me.”
“I realize that. And I swear to you, I didn’t know you and Renee were friends. I thought you were work buddies, you know?”
“And so what if we were work buddies? What right does that give you to just fuck all the people around me within a twenty-yard radius?”
“Look, the truth is, I honestly didn’t KNOW I was attracted to you. When I first met you, I was preoccupied with business. Then you started harassing me in the press…”
“I liked you!” I say defensively.
“That’s how you show it?!” he shoots back. “How was I supposed to know you were playing me? Look, the point is…I DO like you. You’re smart. You speak your mind. You’re not afraid to speak up and make your point. That’s admirable. I’m sorry I messed things up between us by, well, you know.”
“You like me?”
“Yes.”
“Ohhhh, I see how it is.” I fold my arms and scowl back to him. “So even though you JUST said this is not about sex and you don’t want to date me…you’ve now turned this into an ‘I like you’ thing.”
“What are you saying?” he replies in confusion.
“I’m saying shame on you, Zander. The ONLY reason you’re here is because you want to have sex with a woman who despises you. The only reason.”
“That’s not true…” he says, lying through his empty, BUSTED gaze.
“Yeah right. Well, I’m not interested. And for your information, I’ve already met another guy that I’m thinking about seriously dating. A nice man, a gentleman.”
“Oh? WHO?”
“What the hell business is it of yours?”
“Well, I’m fascinated to know, is all. You say you like me, I finally start to like you and now you think I’m scum of the earth.”
“Yes. That is an accurate assessment. Congratulations on picking that up,” I shoot back.
“Well now I want to know what kind of a guy you actually like. You know, maybe by observing him, I can finally figure out how to act around women, you know, so I won’t be such a sexist pig.”
I sigh in frustration. “He’s the opposite of you, Zander. All of your instincts are wrong. Everything this guy does is the opposite of what you do. So if you really want my advice, just start doing the opposite of what a guy like you does every day.”
“Well…”
“You know, fucking every woman you meet. Treating people like they’re the rabble of society.”
“You know what?” Finally, Zander huffs and puffs and delivers a dramatic THUD to the table. “I’m tired of this. Maya, I’m tired of this argument.”
“Good! So leave!”
“I am going to leave. But before I go I deserve my say.”
“Oh sure, why not. You NEVER get to have your say, right, Zander? You’re not constantly all over the news carefully polishing your reputation.”
“ENOUGH!” he says, loud enough to disturb the other people in the store.
I am fuming but decide to hear his bullshit out one last time.
“I don’t have to take this,” he says. “I get it, okay? We’re from two different worlds. You’re from this little world where you judge people on TV and fantasize about how you would run things if you were king of the world. I actually am king of the world and it’s a lot of responsibility, a lot of decisions to make. I don’t judge anybody.”
“But you sure determine what they’re worth, don’t you?”
“Look, we’re never going to respect each other, so why bother? But what I want to know is, why did you like me in the first place if you knew what I was?”
I quiet down and stare at him in angry judgment.
“You knew what I was. I’m Zander Troy. You know what my life is. Why were you so interested in meeting me, anyway?”
“Maybe because—”
“NO, Maya,” he interrupts. “Stop arguing for a minute. Your answer to me doesn’t matter. What I want to know is, what were YOU expecting out of any of this? Did you really think you were going to change me? Is that what…girls like yo
u think?”
My anger stops seething and I lose my furl. I take my eyes away from him, letting them fall back down to reality. Away from his lofty arrogance. Just in front of the reflection of the glass, a vague image of my own poor and misguided self.
“Good point, Zander. Maybe I don’t know what I was expecting. I knew when I came there that first day to meet you that you could never want someone like me. I wasn’t rich. I wasn’t a movie star. Not even really pretty, you know, like the other girls you date. The truth is…I never expected to be loved. But I thought maybe you were capable of giving me at least one special night. I’m a virgin and I wanted you to be my first.”
His eyes shoot open, as if he suddenly realizes everything that’s wrong with me, and wrong with the idea of us as a couple.
“I just wanted Valentine’s Day to be special. I chose that day to lose my virginity. I know it’s not realistic to think I’m going to fall in love with my first boyfriend…but every girl wants to feel like a queen on that special day. I guess it’s something you’ll never understand.”
“I do. But what I don’t understand is why you were disappointed in me if you actually DID accomplish your goal of getting my attention. I mean I thought by now every woman in the country knew what kind of person I was…”
“I heard the rumors, Troy,” I say spitefully, but this time not staring at him directly. I don’t hate him. I’m letting go of my resentment because it’s not really him at fault. It’s me for believing in such a lowlife. “I just kind of hoped they weren’t true. I believed your commercials. You know, your carefully simulated public image. The idea that you were a dashing prince. Romantic, maybe a little wild and crazy…but the type of guy who could look at a woman and make her feel loved. At least…for a moment, at least for one night. You just did such a great job acting like a hero on camera I actually believed it was true.”
“I guess it’s meaningless to apologize then. Maybe we should just go our separate ways.”