Awkward Adventures in Dating

by Elsa Kurt

  It was a relief to see that the band was in full swing when they arrived. It meant they could eat and drink with less conversation. They hostess showed them to a curved red booth, in which they slid all the way to the center of and watch the band play. Two hours later, Keira was not quite drunk drunk (she would say), just feelin’ good. Like really good. As in what Molly liked to refer to as Keira’s ‘I love you, man’ drunk.

  It was true, Keira loved everyone when she had a few drinks. Her need for ‘the bubble’ disappeared, and she was outgoing and relaxed. Not sloppy drunk, mind you. A loosened up, friendlier, less socially awkward Keira. With her wine-eyes, she decided Jason was more attractive than what she’d given him credit for. She ignored when he slipped a loafer off one foot and rested the paisley socked appendage on the booth seat, and when he pulled out a pair of reading glasses that snapped together magnetically at the bridge. Instead, Keira focused on his weathered features, the crow’s feet that appeared when he smiled, the dash of gray at his temples and the full sun-streaked waves on top. Yes, there is a handsomeness to him, she could be attracted to him. Wine had that kind of influence. Somewhere between the third glass of wine and the dessert menus set in front of them, Keira decided that she would sleep with Jason.

  She was curious what it would be like, plain and simple. ‘I will sleep with Yacht Boy. I will not sleep with Yacht Boy,’ Keira giggled to herself. His hand now rested on her knee, and a voice in her head sang, ‘small hands, small…’

  “Dessert, Keira?”

  “What? No, no thank you.”

  She rationalized, in one very buzzed internal conversation, that’d he’d be a perfect no-strings-fling. She felt detached. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but it was as if Keira was watching a play in which she was the lead, and Jason was a transient performer whose name the audience would forget by the second act.

  The music made conversation a challenge. Straining to be heard over the band, Jason leaned in close and placed his hand higher on her thigh, the other around her bare shoulder. He brushed her hair back with his fingertips and Keira allowed herself to fall into the moment. Instead of pulling back, she leaned in, feigning interest and feeling wicked. She was now Keira the Flirt, Keira the Minx, Keira the —

  “Horny?”

  “What? I’m sorry, did you say—”

  “I said, ‘poor me,’ right? But at least I got my son out of the deal, right? I’d love for you to meet him, Keira.”

  Oh, no. He’s going to ruin the moment again. If she was going to do this— him— she’d have to change the subject, quickly.

  “What do you say we get out of here, hmm?”

  “What? Oh, sure. Yes.”

  Jason pulled out his wallet, threw several big bills on the table, and escorted Keira from the restaurant.

  I guess he caught your drift.

  He opened the passenger door for her, but before she could climb in, he gently turned her to him and kissed her. His lips left hers and found her neck, his hands caressed her arms. It was nice, but unexciting. Still, it didn’t deter her. She was going to have sex with Yacht Boy, damn it.

  “Would you like to have a nightcap at my place?”

  Nightcap? People still say that?

  “Sure, but I thought your place was under construction?”

  “Oh, it is. I’m staying in Mother and Frank’s guest loft until it’s ready. Will that be weird for you?”

  Yes.

  “No, no it’s fine, really.”

  As if afraid she’d change her mind, he shooed her into her seat and ran to the driver’s side. They arrived back at the mini-mansion much faster than it took to get to the restaurant and entered through the garage.

  “To the right,” he jerked his chin at a narrow staircase, “goes up to the guest loft.”

  Kicking off his shoes, he pointed out a small bathroom to the left as they walked into the spacious kitchen. Jason strode straight to the bar area and mixed two drinks. He suggested they go down to the theater room where they could watch his Depeche Mode Live concert on the big screen.

  That’s what you get for lying. ‘Oh, I love Depeche Mode.’ Ha. Serves you right.

  “That sounds perfect, Jason. I’ll just use the ladies’ room. I’ll be right out.”

  Once in the bathroom, she took a quick assessment of herself and her situation.

  Oh my word, Keira. Are you really going to do this? You don’t even like him that much.

  “That’s what makes him a perfect strings-free fuck,” she whisper-hissed.

  No need to be vulgar about it.

  “Oh, shut up, I am doing this, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Everything okay in there?”

  Ugh, Yacht Boy.

  “I’m fine, Jason. Be right out,” Keira called through the door.

  “Oh, okay. I, uh, thought I heard you talking—”

  “Nope, all good.”

  Well, go on out there. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.

  Keira gave her reflection a determined nod. Oh, she was doing this all right. When she came out from the bathroom, Jason motioned her to follow him. She had a moment’s hesitation. She was in this guy’s parent’s house, heading towards what appeared to be a basement. This is what Molly said not to do.

  “So, I’m sure this is against your friend’s safety rules, huh?”

  Keira nodded and ducked her head. “Definitely against the rules.”

  “Text her the address and my phone number. Hell, take a picture of my driver’s license if you want, too. I promise, Keira, you’re safe with me. No is no, stop is stop—”

  “I appreciate that, Jason. I, um, texted her the address as soon as we got here.”

  It wasn’t true, but it sounded good. Responsible. Jason smiled and handed her a drink, then thought better of it and carried both glasses down the stairs. At least he was a quick study. Once downstairs, Keira marveled that it was, literally, a mini-theater room, complete with theater-style seating and a large, rectangle screen framed by drawn red curtains. There was even a popcorn machine in one corner. Jason set the drinks down and dimmed the lights. Next, he busied himself with laying out a thick blanket on the carpet and several throw pillows along the back, foregoing the plush chairs in favor of the floor. When he finished, they sat down close together, with the screen looming before them. Concert footage began, and quirky synthesizer sounds filled the room.

  Oh, how romantic.

  “So. Here we are.”

  The whole moment seemed now contrived, and her spontaneous— albeit drunk—sexiness was fading, but there they were.

  “Keira, you’re so beautiful. I think you and I—”

  She kissed him. She had to shut him up before she lost all nerve, all interest. Keira was thinking and acting the way women accuse men of acting, but she didn’t care. She wanted sex, not a commitment, damn it. Jason tried to speak when she pulled back, so she upped her game and placed her hand on his bulge, giving a small squeeze as she slipped her tongue between his lips. It was enough to elicit a groan from him and forget what he was about to say.

  She lowered the straps of her dress, exposing her bra and part of her breast. Jason, needing no further encouragement, pressed his mouth to the swell before gently pushing her back and climbing on top of her.

  Okay, wow. He’s going right for it. Well, at least that means it’ll all be over soon enough. Whatever you do, don’t open your eyes. Don’t. Open. Your. Eyes, Keira.

  She opened her eyes. Jason’s ‘passion face’? It looked so stupid. Did every man look this stupid in the throes of passion? Going down the short list of ex-lovers, she decided yes, they did. She pushed that thought out of her mind as quickly as she could. She swore at herself. Imagine someone else. Who? George Clooney. Yeah. That’ll do it.

  Clooney? Really?

  And it worked, while she remembered to keep her eyes shut. She imagined it was George who was pushing her panties down past her thighs, George whose pants she unzipped, George who put his full fucking w
eight on her as he entered her. She found her groove to the thought of George Clooney’s firm buttocks cupped in her hands and pulled him in harder, closer, deeper. Then she opened her damn eyes again.

  Jason’s eyes were closed in what, she assumed, was a rapture. His tongue swirled around his lips in unison with his hips. Suddenly, there was as much a chance of finding a unicorn, as there was in finding the orgasm she was so close to a second before. She was over it, and it was time to hurry him along. Keira would not be getting her groove back again. So, she made small moans and groans and when he announced, ‘I’m close, I’m close’ she said she was too. Boom, bam, done. Take me home, please and thank you.

  “Stay the night?”

  “What? Oh, I— uh, no, I can’t, I’m afraid. Early... meeting. Sorry.”

  “Oh, damn. Stay for a couple hours at least? I wanna cuddle with you for a bit.”

  What in the absolute fuck? Don’t you want your own shower, your own bed, your own house right about now? Tell Yacht Boy to bring you home.

  “Sure, for a little while, but then I’ve really got to get back home.”

  “Okay, great. Keira? Was it good for you?”

  No. no, no, no. He did not just ask you that. Was it good? Maybe while you were fantasizing he was George bloody Clooney. No, it was not —

  “Good? Of course, it was.”

  She refused to ask him if ‘it was good for him’ too. Nope, nope, and nope. Clearly, it was. It was also time to pull the plug on this one. She had tried to be interested. It wasn’t going to happen. She wanted to go home. She turned on her side and let him spoon her. Keira waited a full ten minutes before she’d had more than enough cuddling.

  “Jason?”

  A soft snore was his response.

  Oh, Christ. Seriously?

  To top it off, his hairy arm trapped her underneath him. Maybe she could at least check her emails. And her social media. And perhaps even MateMatch. She accepted that she might be the worst person ever. Tomorrow, she vowed to feel bad, but at that moment, she gave a small shrug and stretched for her phone. It was just out of reach. Keira supposed that it served her right. Karma.

  An hour and a numb left butt cheek later, she could take it no longer. She lifted his arm off her, found her underwear and straightened herself out as much as possible. But before she shook Jason awake, she studied his naked form for a moment. His physique, his— manhood, though now limp, and his face was altogether pleasing and to his good credit. But the chemistry wasn’t there. She wanted to be overcome with lust when she looked down at a naked man beside her, not objectivity. So, she gave him a gentle but firm shake.

  “Oh, wow, sorry, I fell asleep.”

  No shit, Sherlock.

  “No worries, but I really need to get back home. My dogs will need to go out, and… ”

  Not exactly true, her neighbor's teenage daughter fed them and took them out while she was gone, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “Sure, sure. Let me just—”

  “Here are your pants. And your shirt. Keys.”

  “Great, thanks. Um, everything okay? You’re not regretting this, I hope?”

  “No. No, not at all.”

  Yes. Completely.

  “Like I said, an early start tomorrow, yadda yadda.”

  Get your bloody shoes on and lets GO.

  Forty-five minutes later, she was in her own shower, Jason sent mercifully on his way.

  Thank God that recollection is done. Present time, thank you.

  Keira, while recalling the events of the date, had been pulling up a patch of Bleeding Heart that had gone rogue, and suddenly realized with a start she had the perfect topic for her next article. Dropping everything, she ran inside and spent the next several hours writing.

  8 SEX, LIES & JUGGLING GUYS

  Chapter Seven in The Smart Woman’s Guide To Dating. While it may be tempting to ‘ghost’ someone you’ve lost interest in, honesty is really your best policy. Be straightforward and direct. If you’ve moved on, tell him so. Men do not take subtle hints, remember that, and you’ll be the wiser.

  “Hey, momma. How you doin’ without your girls? One more week, right?”

  Keira let Kate and Molly inside, bringing them to the back porch and sighing. It seemed like it was the longest two weeks of her life. Even though she talked to Violet and Lola every day on the phone, she still felt disconnected from them. She tried to sound upbeat as she answered Kate.

  “Eight more days, to be exact. Sounds like they're having a terrific time so that’s great.”

  “Do I hear a little jealousy, there? C’mon, now, Keira. You’re kid-free, you can do whatever you want without anyone badgering you for money or rides… or getting caught making out with their slutty new girlfriend in the family room.”

  “Oh, my God, no you didn’t. Not T.J.? And I’m sure his little girlfriend is not a slut, Kate. Besides, they’re teenagers, this is the time when all that starts up. Remember when you were a teenager?”

  Molly, having abruptly ended her phone call with Eric, piped in, “You two were sluts, I was a superb Catholic girl, thank you very much.”

  “I was not a slut. A tease is more like it, thank you very much. I might be a slut now though.” Keira made an exaggerated shocked face at her own cheeky admission.

  “Well, I totally was a slut, and Tony was a man whore, according to him. So that means our kids are all going to be horn-dogs, I fricking know it.”

  The three friends laughed and shook their heads. Kate always acted like her life utterly exasperated her. But she loved every minute. She was the absolute epitome of sitcom mom-ness. From her stacked bob haircut, and her white tennis shoes to her ever-present houseful of kids. Her refrigerator was always stocked and her minivan always full. She threatened everyone one of her kids and Tony with imminent murder. Yet, for as many times as she swore she would bury Tony in the backyard one day or drop the kids off at the nearest orphanage, she madly loved all of them.

  “Oh yeah? Well, get this. I caught my Ana in a big lie and wearing make-up the other day. The little shit told me she was at the library getting her books for summer reading list, but when I got her laundry from her room, I saw her library card on her desk. I figured, hey, I’ll be a nice mom and drop it off to her. Only she wasn’t there. So first, I text her, get no answer. Then I drive around looking for her. Sure as hell, I see her, Lisa Connor, and that Jenna Myers at the park, talking to boys. Older looking boys, mind you.”

  “Gasp. No,” Kate asked— theatrically, of course, then more seriously added, “Oh, boy. What’d you do?”

  Molly could never be accused of subtlety or restraint.

  “What do you think I did? I got out of the car and told those three to get in the damn car and told those boys I was going to kick their asses if they didn’t get the hell away from my daughter. That’s what I did.”

  Keira groaned in sympathetic mortification for poor Ana and asked, “How long is she grounded for?”

  “Oh, I guess you didn’t hear my conversation with Eric. That idiot thinks we shouldn’t ground her, that her embarrassment was punishment enough. As if I’m not mad at him enough, right?”

  Eric interrupted Molly’s second MateMatch date by ‘coincidentally’ showed up at the same restaurant she was at with Harley number three.

  “So, are he and Janice sticking to their stories, or did you wear them down?” Kate asked.

  “Well, Janice is now admitting that she may have mentioned the name of the restaurant to Eric, but she can’t recall. Eric is still claiming A Taste of Thai is his new favorite restaurant and that ‘he always goes there.’ He couldn’t name a single item on the menu, so there’s that.”

  More laughs around the table. So far, Keira had avoided discussing her second date with Jason and hoped to continue doing so. But, of course, Molly would have none of that.

  “All right, enough dodging. How’d your date with Yacht Boy go? Did you bone him?”

  “What? Molly. Hey, wait
. Where’s Lilly?”

  “Wait, you boned him. I knew it. Didn’t I tell you, Kate?” Molly banged on the table for emphasis, then in a sing-song voice, “Keira got lay-ayed, Keira got lay-ayed.”

  “Seriously, how old are you?”

  “Whatever. We want details. Oh, and Lilly and Billy are on a couple’s retreat or something like that. They’ll be back tomorrow. Now spill it.”

  Keira hesitated, then decided, fuck it, I’ll tell them the story. When she finished, the other women were silent.

  “Well, say something, damn it.”

  “George Clooney, huh? Not my go to, personally. I’m more of a Brad Pitt girl, myself,” said Kate.

  Molly added, “Eww to both. For me, it’s Garth Brooks, all day long.”

  “So, I’m not, like, an awful person for fantasizing about another man while I’m— while we’re— well, you know?”

  “No, silly. You’re an awful person because you used a guy for sex, and now you’re not returning his calls. Oh, stop with that face, I’m teasing you. But seriously, ya gotta stop with the ghosting thing. It’s gonna catch up to you at some point.”

  Keira really was sorry for how she was handling the Jason situation. It had been a few days since their... hook up, and she’d been ignoring his calls (three) and messages (six). Although, she got an excellent blog post out of it thanks to him and the Bleeding Hearts.

  “Fine, I’ll text him right now. Thanks for the guilt trip.”

  Keira did as she said she would and texted Jason.

  Hey, so sorry for not getting

  back to you till now. Had a work

  crisis that had to be dealt with. All