See how fast news travels?
“Yeah, I didn’t twist my knee.” I clear my throat and continue to stare down at my coffee as I speak. “I took her to play shuffleboard—”
“You’re welcome, by the way.” Roman shoots me a finger gun and winks.
“Yes, thank you for making reservations under CockDaddy69. That wasn’t humiliating at all,” I deadpan.
“Oh shit, did you really?” Caden asks, chuckling.
“Anytime, man. I got you.” Roman taps his chest, and I’m tempted to chuck my coffee at him. But I’m desperate for the caffeine nectar, so I keep it in my grasp.
“We got drinks, started talking, then it was our turn to get out on the court, so she was showing me how to play. It was fun. We were laughing, having a good time, and then June got frustrated because she’s played before and her biscuit wasn’t sliding—”
“Did you arouse her enough? You know there’s no slick to the biscuit unless there’s some foreplay.” Roman smiles his pearly white smile and I sit back in my chair, wincing.
“Do you want to hear the story, or do you want to leave?”
“Dude, that was too easy. Her biscuit wasn’t sliding?”
Caden looks between us and shrugs. “He has a point.”
“Jesus,” I mutter pressing my fingers to my brow. “I thought we were gentlemen here.”
Roman laughs. “We all know that’s a persona you wear; you’re an immature idiot just like the rest of us.”
Half true . . . I’ve been feeling more and more like that idiot ever since June came along.
“At least attempt to be mature. Christ.”
“Sorry,” they both mutter, but I can tell from the smirks on their faces, they don’t really mean it.
Roman checks his watch and says, “Meeting in ten, get on with the story.”
“Yeah, okay.” Telling the guys is going to be just as painful as what happened. I can hear their laughter already, but I can’t have them thinking it’s my knee, when I think we all know by now what’s really causing me this debilitating pain. “So, the biscuit wasn’t sliding for anyone. My next turn, I really cocked back and threw my arm forward, scoring some points for us. June was ecstatic of course, and asked how I did it . . .”
“Ah, so you went with the whole Ghost approach,” Caden says.
“I mean, who wouldn’t?” I ask.
“What Ghost approach?” Roman asks.
“You know, showing a girl how to do something while coming around from behind so you can hold her while doing it.”
“Classy move.” He winks.
“Yeah, well it didn’t happen like that. She had no idea I was stepping up behind her and before I knew what was happening, she cocked her arm back like me, sending the tip of the tang—or ‘pushing stick’ in layman’s terms—straight into my right nut.”
“Ohhh,” they both say while cringing.
Roman grips his own balls.
Caden glances down at my crotch and then back up at me. “You okay, man?”
“I’m using a cane to walk around, what do you think?” I shake my head. “Had to be carried off the court by my opponents, threw up in the bathroom, and then sat in ER while an old man asked me to spread my legs for examination.”
Roman is now laughing—so hard that he’s crying again.
“I ended up with a severe contusion on my right nut—”
“Hey, that’s the testicle you promised me in texts,” Roman says with a grin.
“Well, if I don’t keep icing it, it might shrivel up and turn into dust.”
“Oh shit,” Caden says, looking sorry. “Is it painful?”
“Let’s just say my nutsac is enlarged and my entire groin and inner thigh is covered in black and blue, and I can barely walk.”
“Oh fuck.” Roman laughs some more and then says, “You have to show us.”
“Fuck no. I’m not showing you.”
Caden glances at Roman and the more level-headed of the two says, “Yeah, you have to show us.”
“I’m not showing you my balls. Are you insane?”
“Dude, we’ve showered together before,” Roman says.
“Don’t say it like that, like we’ve shared an intimate moment. It was at the gym after a workout.”
“Still, I’ve seen your junk before. And it’s not like it’s small, so you have nothing to be ashamed of. Just show us, come on. Drop your pants and show us.”
“I’m not one to stare at other guy’s junk, but as a man who is concerned of the same thing happening to him on any given day, I really need to see this,” Caden says.
Why can’t I have normal friends?
Then again, if Roman came into the office with the same predicament, I’d want to see too.
“Ugh, fine.” I carefully stand while the boys lean forward in their chairs. It takes me a second to steady myself, but once I do, I undo my belt and pants, push them down to my knees, and them fold down my black boxer briefs, revealing the monstrous disaster that is my crotch.
The moment it comes into view, both guys make an unintelligible sound of disgust and shield their eyes.
“Oh my God,” Caden says, almost in disbelief. He brings his fist to his mouth and shakes his head. “Dear God, no.”
“That is . . .” Roman has his hand on his heart. “That is horrifying. Dude, how can you—”
My office door flings open, Frank pops his head in, and before I can drop the dress shirt I’m holding up, I hear, “Mother of Jesus, what is happening in here? Your balls, man . . . YOUR BALLS.”
* * *
Silence.
Sitting shoulder to shoulder, Caden, Roman, and I sit across from Frank’s desk and are met with silence as he steeples his fingers beneath his chin.
It’s safe to say everyone in the office is aware that in fact, I didn’t twist my knee, but there is something wrong with my genitals.
That’s a great way to start your Monday.
Another great way? Sitting in your boss’s office, knowing he has the image of your enlarged scrotum burned into his skull.
I know this because he yelled it while walking away and telling us to be in his office in two minutes.
Frank lowers his hands and says, “What I saw back there—”
“Frank, I’m sorry,” I plead, not wanting to get fired over an HR nightmare. “The boys wanted—”
Frank holds his hand up. “I don’t want to hear it. If I was Margaret or any other woman, this would be a shitstorm right about now. Be happy I’m the one who walked in on your peep show.” He groans and rubs his temples. “Why the hell does your scrotum look like that?”
“June,” I simply say, which of course perks Frank right up. “First date.”
“Say nothing more.” He sits up, a smile on my face. “I can’t wait to read about it.”
“With all due respect, Frank, I don’t feel comfortable—”
“Write it or you’re fired. Simple as that.”
“I’ll have a rough draft on your desk this afternoon,” I say with a fake smile.
“Perfect. You’re dismissed.” We all stand while he adds, “And from here on out, keep your pants zipped when you’re in this office.”
* * *
“Are you sure you’re going to make it?” Caden asks me, as I hobble down the sidewalk in Central Park.
“I don’t have a choice. She hasn’t called me, and Frank is frothing at the mouth for more content from me after reading the deets on the first date.” I pause and take a deep breath. “Fuck, I’m taking my medication when I get home.”
“I don’t know why you don’t have it in your pocket.”
“Pride. Stupid, stupid pride.” I point with my cane to the tree. “That’s it, I can make it from here.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, thanks, man.”
“And getting home?” he asks.
“Might take me all night, but I’ll manage.”
He gives me a nod, and then I slowly but surely
make my way to the tree, where I lean against it for support.
Stalking the person you went out on a date with isn’t normal dating protocol, but as a man who can’t seem to secure a girl’s phone number, desperate times call for desperate measures.
And if I know anything about June, it’s that she cares about General Fitzbum, and hopefully, she sticks to the weekday schedule for her evening walk with him.
One can only hope.
The temptation to take my phone out of my pocket is strong, but with my luck, she’ll catch me “buried” in it again, so I keep my eyes forward, taking in the park and everyone who passes by.
I nod at people.
Smile.
Even pretend to tip my imaginary hat to an older couple, but regret it when the geriatric man compliments me on my cane and holds his up to compare.
Move along, man, move along.
I glance at my watch and realize she’s five minutes past her usual time, and I wonder if she’s going to pass this route or if she’s taking a different one for today.
I scan the park, looking for bright red hair and a one-eared dog, and when my sight lands on a pair of green leggings and a white shirt being led by a familiar four-legged friend, relief washes over me.
Standing taller, wishing I didn’t have to use the cane for support, I wait for her to spot me, and when she does, the most gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen crosses her face. She waves exuberantly and then heads in my direction.
Okay, so all that worry that she didn’t call me washes away, as she comes in close and offers me a quick side hug.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says. “I tried to call you this weekend, but I left your number in the taxi. Gah, I’m so glad you didn’t think I was blowing you off.”
I scratch the back of my neck. “Kind of thought it for a second.”
“Oh, so you’re here to stalk me then?” She winks. “Nice touch, Mr. Fancy Hair. I like your persistence.”
“Not creepy?” I blanch.
“Maybe, but I can appreciate it.” She glances down at my cane and then leans in. “How’s your . . . you know?”
“Painful.” I nod. “Very painful. Please tell me you want to sit on the bench with me.”
“I’d like nothing more.” She takes my hand in hers and helps me to the bench. I feel like an elderly man who fractured his hip by the way I’m leaning on June and using my cane for support. “Remember,” she says while I attempt to get comfortable, “the doctor said it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”
“Something to look forward to,” I joke and let out a long breath. “So, you weren’t turned off by what happened on Friday?”
“Not at all,” she says, petting the general on the head before he lies down in front of us. “I was actually really mad at myself for losing your number because I meant to check up on you Saturday, make sure you didn’t hate me. I was so distraught, I spent the entire weekend making doll clothes between auditions. I have over two thousand dollars’ worth of frilly dresses in my apartment right now.”
I laugh. “That’s a hell of a lot of sewing. How did the auditions go?”
“They were great.” She smiles. “One was for The Music Man. Can you believe that? A revival. I could not be more excited. If I can just get into the chorus line, my day would be made.”
“I bet you killed it,” I say, reaching out and tugging on one of her curls.
Now that she’s here and she’s not avoiding me, I have to move this relationship developing between us forward. I think back to the outline I made for gentlemen to follow, the specific step-by-step process for how to date and transform a relationship into something meaningful.
We had our first date, so now she needs to know what my intentions are. Normally, I’d do this over the phone . . .
Shyly, she places her hand on my thigh again and says, “I’m truly sorry about Friday. I feel awful.”
“It was an accident.”
“I know, but . . . you’re in so much pain.”
“I’ve survived worse,” I say, like a man, even though I’m weeping like a baby inside, knowing this is the most excruciating pain I’ve faced in my entire life.
Drawing a circle on my thigh, she says, “So you being here, does that mean you want to see me again? Or are you here to let me down easy? And before you answer, I was really having fun with CockDaddy69 before the piercing of the penis went down.”
“It was my balls.”
“I know, but . . . alliteration and all.”
“I can respect that.” I smile at her. She smiles back. I feel like an idiot because I like her so damn much, and luckily for me, it seems like she feels the same way. “Can I be honest with you, June?”
“I would prefer it, but just sugarcoat the honesty. I’m not sure I can take a harsh letdown, as I’m feeling quite fragile at the moment.”
She’s feeling fragile?
I chuckle. “Even though Friday was the most unordinary first date I’ve ever had, I enjoyed myself, minus the ER visit. But even while we waited around, I have to admit, sharing a vending machine dinner with you was fun.” I take a deep breath. “I like you, June, and I’d love to take you out again, but you’re making it hard on me without a way to reach you.”
“I know.”
“And I’d really like to talk to you more, not just hope we’ll cross paths in the park, even though it has a kismet feel to it.”
“So serendipitous,” she says dreamily.
“Very, but I’m not here to live out a John Cusack rom-com.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh my heart, you know romantic comedies.”
“I know a lot, which you’ll find out if you take a chance to get to know me on a deeper level. What do you say, June? Can I please have your number?”
She taps her chin, giving it some thought. It’s cute.
She’s cute.
She’s unlike any girl I ever imagined pursuing, but in an odd way, I’m glad Frank made me take this assignment. I’m not sure I would have met June, or tried to pursue her, after she had me hold her dog poop.
In a weird way, this assignment made me drop the constant rotation of life I’ve been living in.
Waking up.
Working out.
Going to work.
Researching at bars.
Rinse. Repeat.
It was like riding a carousel, but with June, I hopped off that carousel. Now, I’m riding a terrifying roller coaster that’s also incredibly thrilling at the same time.
“You’re killing me here,” I say, encouraging her to answer.
“Fine, you can have my number.”
“Really?” I ask, my brow scrunching in surprise.
“Yeah, you’ve earned it. You’ve shown true dedication, Wes.” She chuckles and nods at my pocket. “Go ahead, pull out your phone. We can create a contact together.”
“You’ve made my day,” I say, retrieving my phone. I open contacts and click on new. She rattles off her number, helps me pick a flower emoji to accompany her name—her suggestion, not mine—and then she points out that she needs to add a picture so I know exactly who I’m calling.
She fluffs her hair and says, “How do I look?”
I’m holding up the phone to take a picture and all I can think is . . . “Beautiful.”
She smiles at my compliment and I snap the picture. She’s not looking at the phone, but at me and her smile is so natural that it exudes beauty.
“Is it good?”
“It’s perfect,” I say, showing her the picture.
“Oh, look at the clarity on that. Maybe I should get one of these phones.”
“It would be easier on me,” I say.
I dial her number and hold the phone out on speaker. “What are you doing?” she asks.
“I’m assuming you have an answering machine?” She nods. “I’m leaving my number on your answering machine.”
We wait out the rings and then her voice sounds through the speaker. “Hey, you’v
e reached June Lacy. Sorry I missed you, but if you’d like to leave a message, I’d be more than happy to return your call when I get home. Have a great day.”
Her voice is so sweet. It puts me at ease, knowing I finally have a way to contact her.
“Hey beautiful, it’s Mr. Fancy Hair. Just leaving my phone number with you. Please don’t erase this message.” I rattle off my number and then hang up.
She chuckles and bumps my shoulder with hers. “So what does this mean, Wesley Waldorf? Are we officially dating?”
“You tell me.” I reach down and stroke the general’s head, keeping my eyes trained on her.
“I think it does. I hope you’re good at this.” I’m cool as a cucumber on the outside, but on the inside, I’m fist-bumping like a teenager.
“June . . . I’m amazing at this.”
Chapter Ten
Dear Modern Gentleman,
I’ve been dating this girl for two weeks. She’s so smart and sexy, I can’t seem to find anything wrong with her. Dating her has provided two of the best weeks of my life, and one of the things we bond over is our love of cinema. But here is where my problem lies. She loves sitting in the first row. When I asked her about it, she said it’s her favorite seat. What do I do with that? Who WANTS to watch a movie in the front row? I don’t know if this can last . . . at least, I don’t think my neck can take it. What would a gentleman do?
Stiff Neck
Dear Stiff Neck,
The front row? Man, that could be a deal breaker for me, but if you really like this girl, I think it would behoove you to have an honest conversation with her. Tell her you think she’s amazing and she makes you incredibly happy, but the front row in a movie theater is for people with terrible time management. You’re a gentleman, but you’re also not a dumbass, and everyone knows the fifth row up, dead center is the best seating, and prove it to her. Make it special, get her a bucket of popcorn, bring a blanket if you need to, make the experiment unlike anything she’s ever experienced. If you want to keep her around, the gentleman would do his due diligence in making it the best experience for her. And spring for the big bucket of popcorn, don’t be a cheap ass.
The Modern Gentleman Page 9