The Last Girlfriend on Earth: And Other Love Stories

by Simon Rich

  “Why do you guys always have to be so negative?”

  “Just tell me this,” Jeff said. “That rock she was sitting on. Did you see any bones on it?”

  Brent sighed. There had been a few bones.

  “Okay,” Rob said. “I take it from your silence that you saw bones. Did she say anything about where they came from?”

  “I didn’t ask,” Brent admitted.

  “Why not?” Jeff asked.

  “I just met her!” Brent said. “I don’t know what kind of food issues she has! I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. I’m trying not to blow this.”

  He walked in silence to the checkout line. How could he explain his situation to those cynical morons? How could he explain the way this beautiful girl made him feel? They’d only met once and he already caught himself daydreaming about their future. He could easily picture them moving in together someday. His apartment was tiny, and so was her rock, but maybe they could find a bigger place? Brent visualized their wedding. They’d have it outside, on the shores of the Gowanus. He was pretty sure Thelxiepeia was a gentile, based on her hair color and the number of times she’d mentioned Zeus. But he didn’t care about that kind of stuff.

  “Do you need a bag?” the cashier asked him as he paid for his purple Speedo.

  “That’s okay,” Brent said. “I’m going to put it on right now.”

  Brent hurried toward the water, his roommates both struggling to keep up.

  “There’s still time to cancel,” Jeff said.

  “Yeah,” Rob said. “Just text her saying you’re sick. The three of us can go get wings.”

  Brent spun around swiftly, his cheeks flushed with rage.

  “Look,” he said. “I’m not an idiot, okay? I know the odds are against us. I know she’s a siren. I know she’s eaten people. I know she’s five thousand years older than me. But I really like her.”

  His eyes grew moist.

  “I think,” he said, “I might even be in love with her.”

  Her voice sounded in the distance. She was singing a Magnetic Fields tune—something off 69 Love Songs. She was almost up to the chorus when two more voices suddenly joined her. Brent’s roommates looked out onto the Gowanus. Apparently, Thelxiepeia had invited some friends over.

  “Holy shit,” Rob whispered as the three topless girls sang on. “Those girls are hot.”

  Jeff said nothing; he just stared at the water in silence, his lips slightly parted.

  The girls finished singing and waved hello, playfully splashing the water with their feet.

  “Are you Rob Swieskowski?” the one on the left asked. “I love your YouTube comedy videos.”

  Rob blushed.

  “I can’t believe you’ve seen those.”

  “And you’re Jeff Selsam!” the other siren interrupted. “Actuary of the Month at Chapman and Chapman Life Insurance.”

  Jeff’s eyes widened.

  “How did you know?”

  The sirens nodded at each other and then broke into a Beatles song, their voices braided perfectly in harmony. They smiled at the men, beckoning them closer.

  And closer.

  Cupid

  ZEUS LOOKED AT HIS WATCH.

  “Are you sure you told him five o’ clock?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Hermes said. “I’m sure.”

  “Because it’s almost six.”

  “Well, what do you want me to do?” Hermes snapped.

  They sat in silence for another fifteen minutes. Finally, Cupid wobbled through the clouds and plopped onto the top of Mount Olympus. He was wearing some kind of hip-hop jumpsuit, with holes cut in the back to accommodate his wings. For a while, Zeus had ignored his grandson’s hip-hop obsession, assuming it was just another phase. He’d gone through so many in just the past century. There was his “abstract painter” phase in the 1920s, then his “beat poet” phase in the fifties. His rap phase, though, had lasted longer than both of those combined. It worried Zeus.

  “New shit, new shit,” Cupid said, handing Zeus a homemade mix CD.

  The King of Gods tucked it awkwardly into his robe. He’d put his grandson in charge of love because it seemed like the cushiest job on Mount Olympus. All you had to do, basically, was fly around and shoot humans with arrows. The more you fired, the more couples would form and the happier mankind would be. Zeus didn’t expect Cupid to provide every single mortal with romance. But he figured he’d at least crack the 10 percent mark. Even that modest number, though, seemed too daunting for the young god. In an average day, Cupid only launched about four arrows—and most of them missed their mark. Recently, he’d lost his bow in the back of a New York City taxicab. It was two months before he got around to replacing it. His laziness was astounding. He was supposed to circle the globe three times a day, spreading love to all the peoples of the earth. But in the past five years, he’d barely left Manhattan’s Meatpacking District. He didn’t even like to try new clubs. According to Hermes, he’d gone to Tenjune eleven nights out of the last twelve.

  “Did Hermes tell you why I wished to speak with you?” Zeus asked.

  Cupid muttered something in return, but he was using so much contemporary Earth language that Zeus was mystified. The only thing he could make out distinctly was the “N” word.

  “I told you I don’t like it when you use that word,” he said. “It makes me very uncomfortable.”

  Cupid shrugged.

  “I’ma be me,” he said.

  Zeus cleared his throat. There was no point in waiting any longer; he would just have to come right out and say it.

  “Cupid,” he said, “I think you need to go back to rehab.”

  “Nah, Z,” Cupid said. “Nah.”

  “It’s obvious your drinking is starting to interfere with your work.”

  “That’s whack,” Cupid said. “I’ve been setting up hella matches.”

  Zeus sighed. He hadn’t spent much time around humans since the time of kings, but even he could sense that Cupid’s slang was dated.

  “It’s not just how few arrows you’re firing,” he said. “It’s who you’re firing them at.”

  “What are you talking about? I always hook up the illest humans.”

  “Well, then, would you mind explaining your criteria?”

  Cupid stared at him blankly, clearly stumped by the word “criteria.”

  “Just tell me,” Zeus pressed on. “How do you decide which humans receive love?”

  Cupid reached into his diaper and scratched his groin unselfconsciously.

  “Well, with brothers,” he said, “it’s all about style. You don’t get an arrow unless you’re, like, a club promoter or, like, a vodka promoter.”

  “So just promoters.”

  Cupid nodded vaguely.

  “Okay,” Zeus said. “What about women? Which of them receive your arrows?”

  “Ones that bring the heat.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Cupid hiccupped.

  “Big tits.”

  Zeus sighed.

  “You’re drunk right now, aren’t you?”

  “I got a little lean on,” Cupid admitted.

  Zeus’s eyelids fluttered with impatience.

  “So to recap,” he said, “the only humans you help are men with ‘style’ and women who ‘bring the heat.’ ”

  Cupid nodded.

  “And the rest of the humans… the ones, for example, who don’t visit upscale dance clubs… they’re just supposed to fend for themselves?”

  Cupid shrugged.

  “Not my fault they can’t get in anywhere.”

  Hermes shot Zeus a firm look. The King of Gods cleared his throat and went into the speech he’d rehearsed.

  “There’s a place in Phoenix called the Sanctuary,” he said. “They specialize in addiction. They can give you all the tools you need to beat this thing. Will you please take this gift of help that I’m offering you today?”

  “Nah, Z…”

  “Please,” Zeus be
gged. “Mankind is depending on you.”

  Cupid waved his pudgy arms dismissively.

  “Nah,” he mumbled. “This whole thing’s a setup. I’m outee.”

  He hopped off the mountain and zigzagged back to Manhattan, his bow and arrow drawn.

  “Should I fly after him?” Hermes offered.

  Zeus shook his head and sighed.

  “It’s too late,” he said. “We’ve lost him.”

  Set Up

  I FELT A LITTLE WEIRD asking my friends to set me up. But the sad truth was I was starting to get desperate. I’d been single for so long I’d forgotten how the courtship process even worked. I’d had girlfriends before, in college and graduate school. But I couldn’t for the life of me remember how I’d met them. Had I just walked up to them and started talking? Had they just walked up to me and started talking? It seemed like a different person’s life.

  Tim and Tina leapt at the chance to help me. The second I brought up my dating woes they sprang into action, even though it was right in the middle of their engagement party.

  “We did some reconnaissance,” they told me after circling the living room. “Every woman here is in a relationship.”

  “Figures,” I said.

  “Don’t worry,” Tina said. “We’re on the case!”

  They grinned at me and I felt a jolt of excitement. Tim and Tina were the two most social people I knew. She was a film publicist with hundreds of clients. He’d just made partner at the largest corporate law firm in Manhattan. If this golden couple couldn’t find me a date, no one could.

  A few months passed. I was starting to feel hopeless. But then, on a sunny day in April, the phone rang in my Bushwick apartment.

  “Guess what?” Tim said. “We found you one.”

  “Wow! Really?”

  “Really,” Tina said. “You’re on speakerphone, by the way.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “She’s totally your type,” Tim said. “She’s confident, super-cute, completely hilarious. Oh, and guess where’s she from? Sweden.”

  “Whoa,” I said. “That’s awesome.”

  “Come over for brunch,” Tina said. “We need to, like, strategize.”

  I took the L train to the R train to the F train, emerging finally in Carroll Gardens. Tim and Tina had just bought a brownstone on a cozy, tree-lined side street near the water.

  “It’s a bit on the small side,” Tim said modestly. “But it’s in an excellent district.”

  It took me a second to realize he meant “school district.” We really were getting old.

  Tina emerged from the kitchen with a pitcher of mimosas.

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s get down to business.”

  I chuckled nervously and joined them at the dining room table.

  “I think the best thing to do is to let it happen naturally,” Tim said. “We’ll invite her over to brunch next Sunday, sit you guys next to each other, and let you take it from there.”

  I felt my heart speed up. It was bad enough striking out in bars, where the lights were low and nobody was watching. Did I really want to risk getting rejected in front of my two closest friends?

  “Don’t worry,” Tim said, sensing my anxiety. “She’s really excited to meet you.”

  “Really?”

  “We showed her a picture,” Tina told me. “She thinks you’re cute.”

  I blushed so intensely that they both started to laugh.

  “Oh my God!” Tina said. “This is just like high school!”

  “How recent a picture did you show her?” I joked. “Was my bald spot in the shot?”

  “She’s into bald guys,” Tim said. “Her last boyfriend was completely bald.”

  I heard a knocking sound and realized I was rapping my knuckles against the table. I felt a strange urge to laugh out loud. I was excited, I realized, genuinely excited, for the first time since my thirtieth birthday.

  “Do you have a picture of her?” I asked.

  Tina chuckled.

  “Getting down to brass tacks, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll go find one.”

  Tim refilled our mimosa glasses while Tina went upstairs. I assumed she was going to get her laptop, but when she returned, she was holding a short stack of blurry Polaroids.

  “Voila!” she said, plopping them down on the table.

  I picked up the first one. It was extremely dim. All I could make out was a large, brownish pile of trash.

  “Where’d you take this?” I asked.

  “In the dump,” Tim said casually.

  “Where is she?”

  Tina pointed to the center of the photograph. I squinted. There, between two black garbage bags, was a hunched, furry figure, covered in red warts.

  “Her name is Gorbachaka,” Tina said. “With a ‘G.’ ”

  I felt my forehead growing damp.

  “Something wrong?” Tim asked.

  “I guess… she just wasn’t what I was expecting.”

  “What were you expecting?” Tina said, a slight edge to her voice.

  “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I just, you know… you said she was from Sweden.”

  “She is,” Tina said. “She was born in the Scandinavian forest. She moved to the States last year so she could live under the Manhattan Bridge.”

  “Does that mean she’s a troll?”

  Tina nodded. “Is that a problem?”

  “No,” I said, trying to be polite. “I just… I guess I’m just not sure she’s my type.”

  Tim and Tina looked at each other with exasperation.

  “I’m going to get a glass of water,” Tina said. Tim waited until she was gone and then leaned across the table.

  “Look, buddy,” he said. “You asked us to help you find a date. And we did.”

  “I know,” I said. “And it’s really nice of you to put in the effort. I’m just not that attracted to her. I mean, her feet are so big. And her teeth look really sharp.”

  Tim rolled his eyes.

  “No offense or anything?” he said. “But I think your standards might be a little bit too high. I know this girl isn’t exactly a runway model. But you’re not exactly…”

  He trailed off.

  “My point is,” he said, “you’re not getting any younger. I think it’s maybe time you lowered your bar a bit.”

  “I guess you’re right,” I said softly.

  Tim grinned.

  “Tina!” he shouted. “He’s in!”

  Word of the setup spread among my friends, and over the next few days I was bombarded with phone calls. I even heard from Bill and Becky, who were in the middle of a vacation in Barbados.

  “Hey, stud,” Bill said. “I heard you got a date lined up.”

  “Yeah!” I said, trying my best to sound positive.

  “I think you two are going to make, like, the cutest couple ever,” Becky said. I was apparently on speakerphone again.

  “Don’t stress,” Bill said. “You’re going to knock ’er dead.”

  I knew my friends were trying to be supportive, but there was something about their tone that I found a bit condescending. I knew I wasn’t the world’s greatest catch. My apartment was small and poorly lit. I’d been a full-time temp since grad school. I was losing hair and gaining weight and I hadn’t picked up a girl in over two years. But there was still something inside me, a small prideful voice, telling me I could do better.

  Tim swung open the door and grinned at me.

  “There he is,” he said. “The man of the hour.”

  I peeked inside and was annoyed to see that Bill and Becky had been invited along to the brunch, as well as Cait and Chris and Jim and Jenny.

  “I thought it was just going to be the four of us,” I said.

  “Everyone wanted to come and help you out,” Tim said. “You can never have too many wingmen, right?”

  I reluctantly stepped inside. The couples all waved cheerfully at me. I began to feel anxious, like a child who’s been asked to put on a
performance for grown-ups.

  Tina squealed when she saw me.

  “Guess what?” she said in a singsong voice. “She’s he-ere!”

  I heard her before I saw her. She was in the kitchen, chugging from a pitcher of mimosas. She looked up when I entered, her thick black beard clotted with orange pulp.

  “Hi,” I said, waving awkwardly.

  “Goor!” she shouted. “Gooooor!”

  She continued to drink from the pitcher.

  “She isn’t capable of human speech,” Tina explained. “But she’s excited to see you.”

  Gorbachaka kept drinking until the liquid was gone. Then she smashed the glass pitcher on the floor, charged across the kitchen, and bit me on the leg.

  “Fuck!” I shouted as her fangs sank into my calf.

  Tina laughed.

  “I told you,” she whispered. “Gorba’s hilarious.”

  Tim entered suddenly, a sly grin on his face. Over his shoulder I could see the rest of my friends, smiling conspiratorially.

  “Hey, Tina,” Tim said in a stagy voice. “Would you come help me find those, uh… napkins?”

  My friends all giggled.

  “Of course,” Tina said, smirking at me and Gorbachaka. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

  She left the kitchen and closed the door, sealing us in.

  “So,” I said, trying my best to make conversation. “How did you meet Tim and Tina?”

  “Goor!” Gorbachaka growled.

  She tried again to bite me and I leapt out of the way.

  “Goor!” she repeated. “GOOOR!”

  She lunged at me again and I instinctively kicked her. She was short—about two foot six—and the momentum sent her flying. She crashed into a cabinet, her skull cracking against it like a rock. It looked for a moment like she was dead, but then her yellow eyes shot open. She leapt into a squatting position and charged at me again. I dodged out of the way, and she crashed into the door. It swung wide open, revealing my friends, all of whom had obviously been eavesdropping.

  “Is everything okay?” Tina asked.

  “No!” I shouted. “It’s not!”

  Tim pulled me aside.

  “Maybe calm down a bit,” he whispered. “You’re not exactly making the greatest first impression.”