The Last Girlfriend on Earth: And Other Love Stories

by Simon Rich

“I don’t care!” I shouted. “This isn’t going to work!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s an ugly fucking troll!”

  Everyone gasped. I looked around the room; no one would make eye contact with me.

  Tina knelt down so she could look Gorbachaka in the eye.

  “Oh my God,” she said. “Gorba, I’m so sorry.”

  Gorbachaka banged her paw against the ground.

  “BRAGA BRAGA HUCK!” she screeched.

  “I know,” Tina said, fixing me with a stare. “He shouldn’t have said that.”

  Tim laid his palm on my shoulder.

  “I think you should maybe leave, buddy,” he said. “Let this blow over.”

  I nodded awkwardly and slowly made my way out of their house.

  I don’t really hang out with my friends much anymore. I call them sometimes on the weekends, to see if they want to hit the bars, but they always seem to be busy, shopping for apartments, or visiting in-laws, or assembling cribs.

  I’ve joined OkCupid, Match.com, and eHarmony—but none have resulted in any actual dates. Sometimes I think about spicing up my online profile, to try to make myself seem more alluring. But it doesn’t seem worth the effort.

  Last month, I was flipping through the Sunday Times when I saw Gorbachaka’s face in the “Vows” section. She’d gotten married at Temple Emanuel, the article said, to an accountant named Jared. He had an MBA from Cornell and was surprisingly attractive. Gorbachaka didn’t look too bad herself. She’d lost a few pounds, trimmed her beard, and gotten her fangs whitened. I thought about finding her on Facebook and maybe poking her or something. But then I changed my mind. What was the point? I’d already had my shot, and I had blown it.

  Eureka

  CHARLES DARWIN REACHED INTO his satchel and extracted a pair of male lizard skeletons. He knew they must be of the same species. And yet they varied dramatically in size and structure. What accounted for their anatomical differences? How had such deviations come to pass? He had been pondering such issues for months now. But despite his assiduous journal-keeping, he had yet to make a breakthrough.

  Darwin scratched his sunburnt scalp and sighed. It was extraordinarily hot on the Galapagosian shore, even in the shade of the anchored HMS Beagle. He was considering wading into the water when he caught sight of an exquisite creature. It was a native girl. Her flesh was taut and tan and entirely devoid of clothing.

  Darwin’s cheeks flushed beneath his beard. He had seen drawings of nude women in textbooks during his university days. But he had never seen one “in the flesh,” as it were. He was debating whether or not to hide when she casually strolled toward him, her long black hair swaying gently in the equatorial breeze.

  “Tanaka?” she asked.

  “Pardon?” Charles mumbled. He was struggling desperately to keep his eyes from straying downward, to her lithe, sun-kissed torso.

  “Tanaka?” the girl repeated. Charles realized she was pointing at his lizard skeletons.

  “Ah!” he said proudly. “They are scientific specimens.”

  She took the smaller lizard skeleton and squinted at it, turning it over in her small brown hand. Darwin felt a surge of pride. She was interested, evidently, in his work.

  “Tanaka,” the girl said, handing the lizard back to him.

  “Yes!” Darwin said enthusiastically. “Tanaka!”

  He took the girl’s hand and gave it a hearty shake.

  “My name is Charles,” he said. “I am the ship’s naturalist.”

  He held up his specimens.

  “This is the male of the species,” he explained. “Over time, its body has grown in size and strength. I’m attempting to discover why.”

  The girl stared at him blankly, her long black eyelashes fluttering slightly. Darwin began to fear that he was losing her.

  “It’s quite interesting work,” he said. “Here—I’ll show you some of my recent data….”

  He was fumbling in his satchel for his journal when he heard lumbering footsteps behind him. It was Mac, the ship’s boatswain.

  “Hey, Chuck,” said the sailor. “Who you talking to?”

  Darwin forced a smile. He had never particularly gotten along with Mac. In truth, he found the man somewhat barbaric. He rarely wore his shirt to meals. And once he had swiped Darwin’s microscope and used it to play “catch” with his mates. Darwin wanted to tell the sailor to leave, but etiquette called for an introduction.

  “This is a native girl I met,” he said stiffly. “I was just showing her my research.”

  “I’ll take it from here,” Mac said.

  He picked the girl up and casually tossed her over his shoulder. She giggled as he carried her into the water, her nubile legs kicking playfully against his broad, bare back.

  “Tanaka!” she cried, her naked chest heaving with laughter. “Tanaka!”

  “You’re crazy,” Mac said, chuckling to himself.

  They fell into the water and began to splash each other.

  Darwin squinted at the couple—and then back at his two male lizard specimens.

  “Oh,” he murmured. “Now I get it.”

  NASA Proposal

  Author: Dr. Norman Bergman

  Proposed Experiment: To determine the effects of zero gravity on human mating.

  Requirements: In order to conduct this experiment, you would have to find a male and a female who currently reside in outer space.

  Author Background: I currently reside in outer space, with my colleague Dr. Jessica Mullins, in the Alpha Space Orb. We have resided in this orb for twenty-seven months. We are the only two people in this orb.

  Can you think of any individuals who could successfully carry out this experiment? No, not off the top of my head. I’ve really only thought about this mating experiment in the abstract, as a way to learn about gravity and things.

  What obstacles to this experiment can you foresee? None! Really, all you have to do is find two people in outer space who live together, preferably in some kind of pod or orb, and say to them, “We’re doing this experiment.” They don’t have to be married or even particularly well suited for mating. They could have totally different personalities and not even really get along that well. But if you explained to them that they would only be mating as an experiment, for NASA, they would probably be like, “Well, this is pretty strange because we’re not even really on speaking terms anymore, but it’s an experiment for NASA and we both work for NASA so we should probably just do this experiment one time. After that, who knows, maybe we’ll want to keep mating, but right now the important thing is to try it once for science.”

  Respectfully submitted,

  Dr. Norman Bergman

  Copilot, Alpha Space Orb

  Archaeological Excavation Report: Ludlow Lounge

  Introduction

  The following report summarizes our findings at the archaeological site known as Ludlow Lounge. Most of our records of Earth 1 were lost in the Great Google Crash of 4081. But all evidence suggests that this structure once served as a ritualistic social hub for primitive, pre-Internet man.

  Findings

  Not much is known about pre-Internet courtship rituals. But presumably, if a twentieth-century male was in need of sexual release, he had no choice but to physically approach a female and, without any kind of warning, begin speaking to her. Needless to say, this must have been a highly upsetting experience for everyone involved. In order to mitigate the horror of the situation, primitive humans relied on a poison known as beer (figure 1) to damage their brains to the point of near unconsciousness.

  Based on the comparative filth of the “Men’s” and “Women’s” restrooms (figures 2 and 3), we know that males heavily outnumbered females in this location. A sign reading LADIES’ NIGHT (figure 4) suggests that males made a primitive effort to lure more females into the space. It is unclear, though, whether this strategy ever met with any success.

  One other discovery was a small tin box (figure 5) found
near the bar’s entrance. The box was filled with paper currency and stamped with the phrase “Friday/Saturday Cover Five Dollars.” This box indicates that humans, incredibly, paid money to enter this space and have the kind of experience previously described.

  Conclusion

  Before OkCupid profiles became mandated by the Galactic Government, the only way to find a mate was to self-induce brain damage and beg strangers for sex in public. The fact that anyone ever achieved sexual congress during these dark times is a remarkable testament to man’s will to survive.

  Victory

  HOW’D YOU SLEEP?” Lydia asked.

  “Great,” Josh said. “Really, really great.”

  She laughed and bashed his face with a pillow.

  “You haven’t seen my bra, have you?”

  “I think I threw it that way,” he said, pointing vaguely across the room. She hopped out of bed, her smooth back shining in the morning sun. Josh shook his head in amazement. Twelve hours ago, he didn’t even know this wonderful person. And now here she was, voluntarily naked, inside his bedroom.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “There’s a good brunch place around the corner.”

  “I wish I could stay,” she said, tousling his hair. “But I should get back to Greenpoint. My roommate’s probably pretty worried about me.”

  She blushed. “I don’t usually do this sort of thing.”

  Josh squeezed her hand. “Me neither.”

  He spotted her bag beneath some pillows and handed it to her. She smiled at him gratefully and slung it over her shoulder.

  “Sorry the place is such a mess,” he said as he led her down the hallway.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “You didn’t know you were going to have company.”

  He laughed and kissed her tentatively on the cheek.

  “So,” he said. “Do you want to maybe hang out again sometime?”

  She grinned at him.

  “That would be great.”

  He kissed her again, more confidently this time, and then opened the door for her.

  “See ya soon!” she said.

  “Yeah!” he said. “See ya.”

  He was almost back to his bedroom when his cell phone started ringing. He extracted it from his crumpled jeans and checked the screen. It was an unlisted number, but he decided to answer anyway.

  “Hello?”

  “I hear congratulations are in order.”

  Josh chuckled.

  “Hello, Mr. President.”

  “I’m calling to pay tribute to your achievements,” said the commander in chief. “You are an inspiration to men everywhere.”

  “Wow, thanks,” Josh said. “That’s really nice of you to say.”

  “I mean it,” the president said. “It takes incredible courage to approach an attractive girl at a bar and begin speaking with her. And the fact that you were able to convince her to go back to your apartment, and have relations with you, is extraordinary.”

  Josh blushed. He knew the president was only phoning him because of protocol. Still, he couldn’t help feeling touched by the man’s words.

  “It’s so cool of you to call,” he said. “I’m honored.”

  “Are you kidding?” the president said. “The honor is all mine.”

  Josh heard some commotion on the other end of the line. It sounded like the president’s aides were trying to get his attention.

  “Who?” he heard the president whisper. “The generals? Tell them they can wait. I’m talking to Josh.”

  Josh put the president on speakerphone so he could clean up his bedroom while they spoke.

  “I still can’t believe you really did it,” the president said.

  “Neither can I!” Josh said, as he tossed a condom wrapper in the trash. “I mean, I’ve never done it before. Just, like, picked up a girl at a bar.”

  “I’ve come close,” the president volunteered. “Like this one time, in law school, I was at a bar and I saw this girl I knew from section. And we went home together that night.”

  “That’s different, though,” Josh said. “Because you already knew her.”

  “I know,” the president said. “It’s different. Also, we didn’t go all the way. We just made out.”

  Josh’s phone began to beep.

  “Hold on one sec,” he said. “I’ve got another call.”

  “I’ll hold,” the president said.

  Josh glanced at his phone’s screen. It was another unlisted number. He shrugged and clicked Accept.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning, Joshua!” replied an elderly-sounding Englishman. “I’m calling from the MacArthur Foundation. I’m pleased to announce that you will be receiving one of our annual awards.”

  “You mean the ‘genius’ grant?”

  The Englishman chuckled.

  “That’s how it’s known colloquially, yes,” he said. “Where shall we send the five-hundred-thousand-dollar check?”

  Josh gave him the address of his apartment.

  “Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I should probably go. I’ve got the president on the other line.”

  “Of course,” the Englishman said. “But before you hang up, would you mind clarifying something for me?”

  “Sure,” Josh said. “What’s up?”

  “The MacArthur board members were all wondering… how exactly did you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Seal the deal with Lydia. Did you, like, use a ‘line’?”

  Josh thought about it.

  “Well, when I first saw her, she was picking a song on the jukebox. So I walked over to her and said, ‘Nice pick.’ ”

  “And then what? The conversation just proceeded from there?”

  “Well, no—I wanted to play it cool. So after that thing at the jukebox I walked back to where my friends were sitting.”

  Josh heard a scribbling noise over the phone; the Englishman was taking notes. Josh paused for a moment to give him a chance to catch up.

  “… walked back… to where your friends… were seated. Yes, all right. Got it.”

  “So, anyway,” Josh said. “Like, twenty minutes after the thing at the jukebox, I saw that she was getting another drink. So I walked over to the bar. And I kind of, like, timed it so that we’d bump into each other.”

  The scribbling stopped; the man sighed heavily into the receiver.

  “Genius,” he said.

  “Thanks,” Josh said. “Hey, out of curiosity, who else got grants this year?”

  “Oh, the usual. Cancer doctors and whatnot. So, okay, you’re standing next to her at the bar. Then what?”

  “Well, then we just started talking.”

  “About what?”

  “Lots of stuff. We’re both studying for the GREs, so we talked about that for a while. And, you know, our favorite iPhone apps and stupid things like that. She seemed really cool.”

  “And how’d you get her to come back to your place? What did you say?”

  “Well, we had been talking about this TV show Gold Rush, and how funny it was, so I said, ‘Want to come over and watch an episode of Gold Rush?’ ”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “Yeah,” Josh said. “It was great.”

  “What’s her full name?”

  Josh gave it to him.

  “Okay, hold on, I’m Googling her.”

  Josh waited patiently.

  “Whoa. She’s cute.”

  “I know,” Josh said. “Listen, I’ve got the president on the other line still…”

  “Oh, right! I’ll let you go.”

  “Thanks again for the five hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Of course.”

  Josh switched back to the president.

  “Sorry about that,” he said.

  “Not a problem,” the president said. “So how’d you leave it with her? Are you going to see her again?”

  “I hope so. She said she wanted to, so I’ll probably call her the next time I’m free.”r />
  “You don’t want to call her too soon,” the president warned. “You want to wait, like, a day or—”

  He cut himself off.

  “Look at me,” he said, chuckling self-consciously. “Giving you advice.”

  Josh’s phone buzzed again. He checked the screen and laughed.

  “Oh, man!” he said. “It’s her, she’s on the other line.”

  “Take it!” the president shouted. “Take the call!”

  Josh hung up on the president and jabbed Accept.

  “Hey!” Lydia said.

  “Hey,” Josh replied, in as casual a voice as he could muster. “What’s up?”

  “Well, my roommate’s not picking up her phone. So I was thinking, maybe we could grab brunch after all?”

  Josh smiled.

  “I’d love to.”

  He gave her directions to his favorite diner, threw on his jeans, and headed out to meet her. A storm of flashbulbs greeted him as he opened his door.

  “Josh!”

  “Over here! Josh!”

  His hallway was clogged with journalists, snapping his picture and shoving microphones into his face. He smiled for the cameras but didn’t stop for any interviews. He didn’t want to keep Lydia waiting.

  After weaving his way through the crowd, Josh finally arrived at the Clark Street Diner. Lydia was standing right outside, chatting on her cell phone. She waved at him happily and finished up her phone call.

  “Cool, I’ll see you in Paris. Listen, I gotta run. ’Bye!”

  She put away her phone and kissed Josh on the cheek. He laughed and kissed her back.

  “Who was that?” he asked.

  “Oh, some ad firm,” she said. “They want me to be the new face of Dior.”

  “That’s cool,” Josh said. “Do you like omelets?”

  She nodded enthusiastically.

  “I love them.”

  “Well, this place makes great ones.”

  She blushed as he held open the door for her.

  “After you,” he said.

  They entered to the sound of deafening applause.

  I Love Girl