by David Jester
The following week, I joined the pair of them in the bar again. Lizzie was having a few of her work colleagues round to catch up on gossip before she returned the following week. They would drown Ben in high-pitched gossip, innuendo, and the sort of cackling laughter that can only come from mothers drunk on cheap boxed wine. I worried what it would do to his psychology, but figured he would have to get used to it eventually. His mother would send him round the bend with all kinds of cackling, gossip, and drunkenness in years to come. It’s what mothers did. So, it’s best that he got used to it.
Marcus was on the prowl again when I met him and Matthew in the bar. He was also still a virgin despite spending two weeks under Matthew’s wing.
“What about the note?” I asked. “Are you not going to try that again? What are you, a Looney Toons cartoon?”
Matthew smiled softly, but the smile didn’t seem to be directed at my joke and I sensed a story coming. “We did try it again,” he said.
“Tell me about it,” I said as Matthew fixed an accusing stare on Marcus. “What did you do to the poor man this time?”
“Me?” he said, looking incredulous.
“Yes, you, I’ve been down this road, I know what you’re like.”
Matthew held up his hands. “I’m not at fault here,” he said. “I can get women. Most of the time I’m beating them away. You’re the ones with the problem, you’re the ones who can’t follow instructions, you’re the ones who—”
“So what happened? I asked, cutting him short and turning my attention toward Marcus.
Marcus sighed. “I figured I’d pick the girl who looked the most available,” he said, trying to avoid using the word that was on his mind.
“The biggest slut in the bar,” Matthew chimed in, feeling no need to avoid such a word. “Her pussy is so infamous they’re thinking of naming a toilet stall after her.”
Marcus sighed again. “Not strictly true, but anyway, she was drunk and I’d seen her write down her number for half a dozen men already—”
“—Although she could have been signing autographs.”
“Will you shut up?” Marcus ordered.
Matthew held up his hands, his face alight with mischief.
“So I wrote the note, downed a few shots of vodka for Dutch courage, and then—”
“You didn’t piss yourself again, did you?” I jumped in.
“He told you?” Marcus snapped. “And I mean no, that never happened.” He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “And it wasn’t piss, the bathroom faucet burst.”
Matthew took his cue to jump in again, “What were you doing with a bathroom faucet in your pants?”
“Do you want to hear this story or not?” Marcus asked, looking increasingly annoyed.
“Sorry, go on,” I told him. “What happened with the note?”
“Okay, so I gave her the two options like Matthew suggested: ‘kiss you’ or ‘take you home.’ And I gave her the note.”
“To be fair,” Matthew jumped in again. “I blame your handwriting. You hold a pen like you’re gonna use it to stab someone.”
Marcus frowned at Matthew.
“And which one did she tick?” I asked.
“Well,” Marcus said despondently. “She penciled her own option. She wrote ‘fuck off,’ gave it a big tick, and then gave it back.”
“Ouch,” I said.
Marcus gave me a pitiful smile and lowered his gaze to the table and to his drink. Matthew was grinning, but I felt bad for Marcus. I knew what it was like to be in his position and it wasn’t pretty. Marcus was roughly the same age as I was, yet I felt like I had so much more experience than him. I’d been with the sort of crazy women that Matthew was trying to set him up with, I’d been with the quieter ones who turned out to be even crazier, and I’d also found a rose among all of those thorns. I didn’t consider myself as experienced as Matthew, and I certainly didn’t have his confidence, but I had a lot more than I used to have and I felt like I had enough to help Marcus out.
I finished what was left of my drink, stood, and asked Marcus to follow me.
“Where you going?” Matthew said. “Off to powder your noses?”
“I’m going to help him. I’m going to succeed where you failed.”
He laughed so loudly that the women at the nearby table looked over. They noted Matthew with concern and then us with some degree of disgust. I mentally ticked them off our list and moved on.
Marcus didn’t look as confident in me as he had been in Matthew, and I couldn’t blame him for that. I took him to the bar and we both rested against it, with Marcus looking as cool as possible for a thirty-year-old virgin with glasses the size of wheel rims, and me trying my best to look remotely less awkward than him.
“You see, Marcus, it’s not about the biggest slut or the drunkest girl.” I surveyed the bar like a rancher checking his cattle, and Marcus followed suit. In truth, I had no idea what I was saying or doing, but I figured that if I at least looked like I did then I would instill some confidence. “You’re a nice guy, and you need a nice girl. You need a girl that can make you feel good about yourself, a girl that can take away your self-pity and make you feel human, make you feel like a man.”
I turned to him to see how I was doing and I was delighted to see that he was grinning and nodding. Before I could continue, my phone buzzed. I stopped, checked a message I had received from Lizzie, and then dropped in back in my pocket.
“Everything okay?”
“Just my wife reminding me that I’m lovely, she’s very happy, and we have a great baby.”
He looked confused. “What does that mean?”
“It means she’s on her second glass. Give it a few hours and she’ll start telling me how she suspects her work colleagues are evil and how they’re all having affairs. Then she’ll start getting inexplicably angry with me, before telling me she loves me.”
“And then?”
“And then something amazing happens. She’ll either fall asleep on a pillow that is half fabric and half drool, or she’ll sober up and act confused when I tell her how drunk she was.
Marcus seemed both confused and impressed.
I patted him on the shoulder. “Anyway, as I was saying …” I surveyed the room as I continued with my speech. “You need a girl who won’t care that you have glasses the size of small spaceships. A girl who can look beyond your puny bony and your oddly shaped face, one who doesn’t see that your hair looks like it’s been cut by your mother and your wardrobe looks like you’ve been forced to borrow clothes from your dad. A girl who doesn’t detect that musty smell that you give off and doesn’t notice that you walk like you’re desperately searching for the nearest toilet. You need a girl who will love you, and that’s what I’m going to help you find.”
I turned to him again, smiling a smile that didn’t stay for long. “What are you looking so fucking glum for?” I pushed him on the arm and he lifted his gaze up from his feet. “Come on. Stop feeling so sorry for yourself all the time. Let’s find you a woman.”
I was half right with Lizzie. Two hours later, she messaged me to say that her friends had left, but she didn’t care because they were annoying her anyway. After another hour, she messaged me to tell me that Ben was asleep and there was no need to come home, but she was lonely and would love to spend some time with me. Early on in our relationship, I would have fallen for that, thanked her, and then stayed out. When I learned how much trouble that got me into, I began to read between the lines. But as much as I knew I would regret it, I decided to stay out. I felt a certain affinity with Marcus. It wasn’t that I liked him. Or that I particularly respected him. If anything, he was a little too odd for me, and that’s saying something. I just felt sorry for him. I saw a little of my younger self in him and I knew that leaving him with Matthew would be akin to throwing him to the lions.
So I turned off my phone, ready to pretend that the battery had died. My wife was no idiot, but I crossed my fingers, h
oped she was still drinking, and let my own drunken mind convince my future self that it would be okay.
I stood with Marcus at the bar for a few moments. I let him buy me and himself a few shots for Dutch courage, and then I took him on a tour of the bar and its female attractions.
The first woman looked friendly enough, but there seemed like there could be an element of bitchiness about her. I took a chance, though; for the most part, she looked sweet and fairly innocuous. She wasn’t traditionally beautiful, but had a certain quirky cuteness about her that Marcus liked. I told him to wait by the bar as I approached, tapping her on the shoulder. I had no idea what I was going to say, but I didn’t intend to let myself think about it either. I knew that if I thought about it, then I would realize what I was doing, and if I realized then the panic would set in and I would stop doing it. I was just going to go for it and not think about anything. For the rest of the night, it would be as if I didn’t have a brain at all, which was how Matthew did it.
She gave me an indifferent look, one that suggested that if I didn’t impress her with the first words that came out of my mouth, then I wouldn’t get a chance to impress her for the rest of the night.
“Hello there. I think I have something that you would like.”
“Oh, really?”
I nodded and then looked alarmed. “I’m not talking about my penis.”
“You’re not?”
“No, no. I mean I’m sure you would lo—” I paused with my mouth open, she seemed amused. “Never mind.”
“You’re right, it’s probably best to end it there.” She giggled. “So, what’s your name, and what do you have to show me?”
With my hand behind my back, I gestured for Marcus to come over. “It’s my friend. He’s had his eye on you all night, but he’s too shy to come over and say anything. He was ready to leave, just walk right out of your life, but I told him that he couldn’t do that, that for both of your sakes he had to give it a shot.”
What do you know? I’m actually quite good at this.
The smile on her face suggested that she liked that as much as I did. “Okay, then bring him over. I’d love to meet him.”
“He’s here,” I said, stepping aside.
I watched her face as Marcus approached, watched as the bright smile turned into an expectant grin, and watched as that expectant grin soured. By the time Marcus greeted her, she looked like she’d just found the rotten grape in an otherwise delectable bunch.
“What. The. Fuck. Is. That?” she said.
I turned to Marcus, whose chin had lowered to his chest once more, his eyes back on his feet. I felt so sorry for him, and at that moment I decided that I wasn’t going to give up. I turned back to the woman to plead his case, but she had already turned her back on both of us.
“You’re missing out,” I told the back of her head. She didn’t reply and didn’t even turn around. “And your back fat looks like a small child is trying to escape out of your dress.”
That was harsh. Very Matthew-like. I felt disgusted, ashamed, and happy with myself all at the same time.
This time she did turn around, but I stepped out of the way before she could slap me. “Get out of my face, creep!” she spat.
“Gladly.” I gave her a bow for dramatic effect and to cheer up Marcus, who giggled like a schoolgirl. I wrapped my arm around him and led him away. “Don’t despair, mate, we’ve got this, trust me.”
The next girl was all by herself and looking just as lonely and as miserable as Marcus had been. She was sitting on a table in the corner, staring forlornly at her phone while twiddling the straw in a bottle of something unnaturally blue and probably unnervingly sweet. I told Marcus to loiter nearby and then I took a spare chair and plonked it down opposite her.
“Hello there,” I said, sitting down. “How are you?”
Her eyes lit up when she saw me, which was always a plus, but this looked like more than just a friendly or even a flirty smile. She had an elongated face with a chin that seemed to be trying its best to escape and an underbite that you could hit a golf ball off, but I doubted that Marcus cared about either of those things. If she had a good personality and a vagina, then he was happy.
“You’re looking a bit glum, anything I can do to help?”
“My boyfriend left me,” she said, the smile still on her face, looking incredibly eerie considering the words coming out of her mouth. “Just walked out, said he wasn’t interested. And we were supposed to get married and have kids.”
“Shit, what a bastard.”
She nodded, still smiling, a smile that was beginning to make my skin crawl. I wondered if her boyfriend really had left her, or if that’s just what she told the police.
“You look like you’re taking it well,” I noted.
She nodded slowly, the porcelain smile still etched on her face. “Well, things are looking up now, aren’t they? Now that you’re here.”
That’s sweet.
“I mean, who needs him when I have you, right?” She broke her expression to giggle.
And that’s kinda creepy.
“Yeah,” I said, trying my best to join in, but secretly regretting sitting opposite her.
“So, are you married?”
“Am I married?”
She nodded. “You can’t blame a girl for thinking about the future, can you?” She giggled again, an awkward giggle, a joking giggle, but her words seemed as sincere as they were psychotic.
“I think I should be going,” I said, quickly standing up.
The smile broke instantly. “No, don’t you leave me, as well.” She also stood, and I was worried she would follow me.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“You’re all just the fucking same!” she spat, slamming her fist down on the table, her face now looking like a rabid horse. She sat back down, buried her head in her hands, and began to cry.
“What was all that about?’ Marcus asked as I grabbed him by the collar and quickly dragged him to the other side of the bar, as far away from Seabiscuit as possible.
“She’s spoken for.”
“Oh, that’s a shame.”
“Yes. Yes it is.”
On our detour, we passed Matthew, who was sitting with his feet up on the table, a drink in one hand and his phone in the other. He gave us a cocky grin as we hurried by.
“Still no woman, I see.”
“Fuck off.”
I was at fault for the next two failures. Marcus picked them out and I zeroed in, but I fumbled my way through the conversations, losing their attention and any chance of getting them to meet Marcus, let alone take him home. My confidence was suffering, and Marcus was getting more and more dejected, but I was determined to continue.
Toward the end of the night, more drunk women were on the dance floor, and although I had told myself that I would avoid the drunk ones, I felt like I didn’t have much choice. I went for a girl who had been quiet for most of the night, a shy and retiring type who had come alive thanks to several Jägerbombs and some neon cocktails. Her previously immaculate hair and dress was now all over the place and she was dancing and singing by herself, to a completely different song than the one everyone else was dancing and singing to.
I danced my way over to her. It took her a few moments before she realized that someone was in front of her, but as soon as she did, she began grinding up against me like a randy puppy—a two-hundred-pound puppy with no self-esteem, no inhibitions, and mascara all down its face. I managed to back off, at which point she called me a tease.
“I’m not here for me,” I told her. “It’s for a friend.”
“Of course!” she yelled, “bring your friends along. The more the merrier.”
“He’s a nice guy and I think—”
“Do you want to do it here?” she slurred.
“Excuse me?”
“On the dance floor?” She looked around, sweeping her foot to make sure that it was sturdy ground, probably because she was sure it had been movin
g a few moments ago. “It’s a little dusty, but it’ll do, right?”
“I don’t think—”
“No, no, you’re right.” She laughed and then burped, and then laughed some more because of the burp. I’d picked a winner here. “A bed would be better. Here—” she grabbed me and yanked me over to a table where she had spent the night with her friends. Most of those friends were now on the dance floor, doing their best to pretend they didn’t know her, but one of them was still sitting at the table, looking grumpy as she sipped orange juice and most likely regretted ever agreeing to be the designated driver. I’d already hit on her earlier in the night without any success, otherwise I would have dumped the drunk one for her.
Before I knew what was happening, the drunk girl slapped a napkin in my hand. She had hastily scribbled an address, a phone number, and the words “me. you. fuck, tonight” in lipstick.
“Okay?” she shouted above the music, giving me the thumbs-up.
I nodded and put on my best smile as I watched her return to the dance floor. I was worried that I would have to leave there and then to avoid her trying to find me at the end of the night, but that worry faded when I watched her throw up all over herself and then slip and twist her ankle when she continued to dance.
The sober friend groaned and then reluctantly ran to help, while I stuffed the napkin in my pocket and made a sheepish getaway.
More drunk people followed, and I hoped that I could find someone for Marcus as the tiredness set in and everyone prepared to go home, but they were too drunk, too intelligible, and still not interested.
“I’m sorry,” I told Marcus afterward, the energy completely drained out of me. “I tried my best.”
I was so tired that I didn’t realize he was smiling. “What about her?” he said, seemingly ignoring me and nodding toward a girl in the corner of the bar. I had missed her, but she looked like she was easy to miss. She was short, petite, timid. She had shoulder-length brunette hair, a cute smile, and two little dimples that were currently pointed rather shyly toward Marcus.
“I caught her eye,” Marcus said. “I think she likes me.”
