The Last Girlfriend on Earth: And Other Love Stories

by Simon Rich

  “EBay,” Gabe said. “I thought it was just a regular lamp, but then this genie popped out.”

  “This is amazing!”

  “I know, right? We have two wishes and we can use them on whatever we want. World peace, a cure for cancer…”

  “Wait, hold on,” Claire said. “Two wishes? Don’t genies give you three?”

  “I think it’s usually two,” Gabe said.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” Gabe said. “I’m pretty sure it’s two.”

  A faucet turned on suddenly in the bathroom.

  “What’s that?” Claire asked. “Is someone else here?”

  “Yeah!” Gabe said. “I forgot to tell you. Uh… Marisa Tomei is here.”

  “Who?”

  “Marisa Tomei.”

  “What’s she doing here?”

  “Well, her car broke down. Outside our building. So I had her come inside to call Triple A. Because her phone was broken, too, so she needed a phone, so I said, ‘Hey, we’ve got a phone, use our phone!’ ”

  Claire turned toward the genie.

  “How many wishes did you grant him?”

  The genie averted his eyes.

  “Great Mumbafa stay out of this,” he said.

  He tried to funnel back into the lamp, but Claire rubbed the surface, forcing him out again.

  “I wish for you to tell me,” she said.

  “You will be down to just one wish.”

  “I don’t care.”

  The genie sighed.

  “Okay,” he said. “The number of wishes he originally had… was fifty.”

  “Fifty?”

  She stared at Gabe with contempt.

  “You used forty-eight wishes already? Jesus Christ! They were all sex wishes, weren’t they?”

  Gabe looked down at the carpet.

  “What did he wish for?” Claire asked the genie.

  “Great Mumbafa don’t want to go into it.”

  “I wish for you to tell me.”

  “You’ll be out of wishes.”

  “I don’t care.”

  The genie sighed again.

  “Well, it was all sex things, obviously.”

  “All with Tomei?”

  “The first few were Tomei. But he got bored with that. By the end he was pretty ‘all-over-the-place.’ ”

  “I can’t believe this!” Claire shouted.

  Her eyes welled up with angry tears. Gabe tried to put his hand on her shoulder, but she violently shook him off. A minute passed in silence. Eventually, the genie cleared his throat.

  “Can Great Mumbafa say something?”

  Neither Claire nor Gabe responded. The genie decided to keep going.

  “Great Mumbafa see this all the time,” he said. “A woman finds her boyfriend’s genie, checks his wish history, and flips out. But trust me, your boyfriend is not a freak or anything. This is just what guys do.”

  Claire rolled her eyes.

  “I am serious,” the genie said. “Why do you think there is no world peace? Because no man ever wishes for it. All of them have the option. Sometimes, Great Mumbafa even say, ‘How about world peace? You can use one of your many wishes on world peace.’ But no man ever takes me up on it. It is always Helen of Troy, or Nefertiti, or, for brief period in nineties, Téa Leoni.”

  Claire looked up at the genie, her cheeks damp with tears.

  “Really?”

  “Really,” the genie said.

  Gabe turned toward his girlfriend.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  Claire sighed.

  “Just get Marisa Tomei out of here.”

  Gabe marched obediently into the kitchen, grabbed Marisa Tomei by the elbow, and ushered her out the door. Claire couldn’t help marveling at the actress’s beauty.

  “How does she look so good?” she asked. “Isn’t she, like, in her late forties?”

  The genie nodded. “Even Great Mumbafa impressed.”

  Confidence

  JAKE COULD TELL BY THE WAY Meg was chewing her lip that there was something on her mind.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Everything’s fine.”

  She laid her head on his chest.

  “It’s just… I guess, I’ve been thinking… what are we, exactly?”

  Jake winced. Ever since they’d started sleeping together, he’d known this conversation was inevitable.

  “Do we really have to define things?” he said.

  Meg shrugged.

  “I just want to know where this is going. We’ve been doing… whatever it is we’re doing… for over two months.”

  She scratched Jake’s scalp and smiled sweetly at him.

  “I just want to be your girlfriend,” she said softly. “Is that such a crazy thing to ask?”

  Jake smiled as she ran her fingers through his hair. He’d resisted commitment for so long. But why? It wasn’t like he’d be giving up anything. The truth was, he hadn’t slept with anyone but Meg since the day they met. He’d tried—on numerous occasions. It just hadn’t worked out. If he committed to a relationship, he’d at least be getting some credit for his monogamy.

  He looked up at Meg. She was smiling warmly at him, her eyes wide with hope. He’d never been with anyone so sweet. She was always scratching his back and massaging his neck. This morning, she’d made him huevos rancheros, with extra onions, just the way he liked them. She wasn’t particularly attractive, but neither was he. He was lucky to have found someone who wanted him, someone who needed him so badly she feared she might lose him.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m in.”

  He smiled at her expectantly, anticipating a giddy reaction. But Meg just stared at him in silence, a blank expression on her face. After a moment, he realized she wasn’t breathing.

  “Meg?” he shouted. “Meg!”

  He waved his hands in front of her face, but she didn’t respond. When he spotted the TV, he gasped. He didn’t have a DVR, but somehow, the television had paused. His entire room was frozen.

  “Greetings, Jake,” intoned an odd metallic voice.

  He spun around frantically. Standing before him were three strange women with gleaming red eyes and smooth green flesh. Their faces were angular and their bodies long and lean. They were naked beneath diaphanous robes, which clung to their large, throbbing breasts.

  “We are Sex Aliens from the Planet Sex,” the middle one said. “We have come to request an orgy.”

  She snapped her fingers and the three of them flung off their robes. One of the garments landed on Meg’s head, partially obscuring her frozen face.

  “Whoa!” Jake said. “Whoa, whoa… whoa.”

  The middle alien raised her twiglike eyebrows.

  “What is wrong?”

  “I—I’m sorry,” Jake stammered. “But… I can’t do this.”

  He covered his face with his hands and sighed.

  “I’m in an exclusive relationship.”

  The alien folded her arms beneath her breasts.

  “Since when?”

  “Like… a few seconds ago.”

  “Huh,” the alien said. “That’s too bad.”

  She parted her lips, revealing a row of gleaming white teeth.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to have sex with us anyway?” she asked. “We have stopped time to allow the cheating to occur without consequences.”

  “That’s very thoughtful,” Jake murmured. “But I can’t. I’m just… I’m not that kind of guy.”

  “Aww,” the aliens said in unison.

  “Can I ask you something?” Jake said. “Why did you pick me? I mean, it’s not like I’m that good-looking or anything.”

  “Our eyesight is poor,” the middle alien explained. “We see only shapes and shadows. But our noses are extremely well developed.”

  “So… I smell good?”

  “You smell confident,” she said. “When a man is desperate, he gives off
a foul stench, like a rotting egg. A confident man, though, gives off a glorious bouquet—like a finely charred steak rubbed with truffle oil.”

  Jake smiled proudly.

  “Wow,” he said. “I’ve never thought of myself as confident.”

  “You are,” the alien said. “We could smell it all the way from the Sex Galaxy. As soon as we got a whiff of it, we teleported straight over.”

  Jake’s face flushed as she started to walk toward him. Before long, her breasts were pressing against his chest.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, licking her lips.

  Jake swallowed. He knew he might never get another chance like this one for as long as he lived. But he wasn’t the type of guy who cheated on his girlfriend. Only horrible people did that.

  Jake clenched his jaw. He was determined to hold his ground.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I can’t help you.”

  The aliens twitched their noses in unison. It was clear that they were disappointed.

  “Well, here’s my number,” the nearest alien said, handing him a strip of paper with about a hundred digits on it. “If you change your mind, just give us a call.”

  The aliens nodded at each other and then vanished, leaving behind a flash of blinding light. Jake covered his eyes in pain. When he removed his hands from his face, Meg was throwing her pudgy arms around his body.

  “I’m so happy!” she said.

  “About what?”

  “That… we’re a couple.”

  “Oh, right,” Jake said. “Yeah. Me too.”

  “Oh, man,” Mitch said, “I’ve been there.”

  Jake stared at his friend.

  “You have?”

  Mitch signaled for another round of beers.

  “Sex Aliens stopped by my apartment five years ago,” he said. “It was right after I started dating Rachel. There were at least a dozen of ’em.”

  “Jesus,” Jake said. “Was it hard to resist?”

  Mitch’s lips curled into a grin.

  “Who said I resisted?”

  Jake’s eyes widened with shock. Mitch loved Rachel. They were getting married in two months. How could he have cheated on her?

  “Did she find out?” he asked.

  “Did who find out?”

  “Rachel.”

  “Oh, no,” Mitch said. “They did that time-stop thingy.”

  The beers arrived and Jake took a giant swig. He was feeling a little bit light-headed.

  “How do you deal with the guilt, though? I mean, you must regret it.”

  “The only thing I regret,” Mitch said, “is not videotaping it.”

  He leaned in close and continued in a whisper.

  “I don’t believe in God,” he said. “But sometimes, when I’m lying in bed and Rachel’s snoring, I pray that the Sex Aliens will return.”

  He banged the bar with frustration.

  “It’ll never happen, though. With girls like that? You’re lucky if you even get one chance.”

  “Huevos rancheros!”

  Jake forced a smile as Meg plopped the plate onto the table. Somehow, the dish looked less appetizing than he remembered it. He gamely forked a bite into his mouth, but he could barely choke it down. It had a vaguely bitter taste, like it had been made with rotten eggs.

  “Everything okay?” Meg asked.

  She started to massage his neck, but he shook her off.

  “I’ll be right back,” he mumbled.

  He hurried into the bathroom and locked the door. The walls were too thin to risk a phone call, so he tapped out a simple text: “I changed my mind!” He entered the alien’s phone number as quickly as he could and pressed the Send button. It took a few minutes, but at last the message went through.

  “Are you okay?” Meg called out from the hallway.

  “Yeah!” he responded. “Just give me a minute!”

  He stared at his phone, but no response came. He reread his text to the aliens and grimaced. The exclamation point had probably been unnecessary.

  He sent another message, this one more direct: “Please come over.”

  Five minutes passed in silence. He could hear Meg pacing nervously on the other side of the door.

  “Sure you’re okay, honey?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” he growled.

  He sent another text—then another, and another. But he knew it was hopeless. They were never coming back. He was desperate again—and they could smell it.

  The Important Thing

  I NEVER ADMITTED IT TO ALAN, but the truth is, I never really liked any of his girlfriends. Nikki, Kendal, Jackie—they all gave me a really bad vibe. They were super-attractive; Kendal, I think, had even been a model. But there was just something so cold about them. They were always demanding gifts—jewelry and dresses and extravagant vacations. And if Alan ever did anything to upset them, they’d punish him for days, ignoring his phone calls and making him feel like garbage. I’ve been best friends with Alan since kindergarten, and I always felt like he deserved better. So when I found out he was dating Mother Teresa, I was thrilled. At last, he’d found somebody sweet and kind and nurturing. Somebody warm. It was a real miracle.

  I got along with Teresa from the start. She was adorable, obviously, with her blue-and-white sari and her knobby little fingers and her squeaky Albanian accent. And I was inspired, of course, by her decades of devotion to the world’s poor. But what impressed me the most about Teresa was how much she loved Alan. In order to enter into a relationship with him, she’d had to make an exception to her holy vows. She was so crazy about him, though, that it hadn’t been an issue. From the moment they met, she was at his apartment constantly. And if she ever had to leave town, to start an AIDS hospice or something, she texted him nonstop. When Alan told me they were getting married, I wasn’t surprised at all. It was obvious they were made for each other.

  As best man, it was my duty to organize the bachelor party. I wasn’t sure how wild to make it, so I had lunch with Teresa before planning things. As usual, she was super-cool about everything.

  “I know what occurs at such parties,” she whispered. “And I am at peace with it.”

  I ended up renting out the banquet room at Club Lime and booking a stripper named Aja.

  The party started at ten, so I got there at nine, to make sure everything was set up properly. To my surprise, Alan was already there. He was sitting alone at the bar, finishing up a martini. I smacked him on the back and laughed.

  “Looks like this party’s already getting started!”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

  I could tell he was a bit nervous—which was completely understandable. He had no idea what sort of night I’d planned. Part of me wanted the stripper to be a surprise, but I didn’t want my friend to suffer any longer.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I talked to Teresa. She knows I hired a stripper and she’s totally cool with it.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said. He didn’t seem to be listening to me. He caught the bartender’s eye and signaled for another martini.

  “Whoa,” I said. “Pace yourself. Long night ahead of us.”

  He gripped my arm suddenly.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said. His eyes looked bloodshot, like he hadn’t slept the night before.

  “What’s the matter?” I joked. “Cold feet?”

  I laughed for a bit—but his expression remained rigid and grave.

  “I need to talk to you,” he repeated. “In private.”

  I ordered a martini of my own and followed him into the lap-dance room.

  Alan took a swig of gin and grimaced. He isn’t much of a drinker, and he was already beginning to slur his words a bit.

  “Look,” he said. “Teresa’s great. She’s sweet, she’s nice. Honestly, she’s like a saint.”

  I squinted at him.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  He sighed.

  “It’s so stupid and small—I feel like an idio
t for even saying it….”

  “I’m your best man,” I said. “You can tell me anything.”

  He fiddled with his martini stirrer for a while.

  “Teresa’s great,” he said again. “She’s the best. It’s just…”

  He averted his eyes.

  “I’m not that attracted to her.”

  “You mean…?”

  Alan nodded.

  “Sexually.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying my best to act casual. “Huh. Well… when did that start?”

  “Pretty much from the beginning,” he admitted. “At first I didn’t think much of it. I figured, you know, the relationship’s still new, we’re still learning each other’s bodies. I kept waiting for things to improve. But they never did.”

  I nodded awkwardly. The truth is, even though we’ve been best friends for years, we don’t usually talk about these sorts of things.

  “Listen,” I said. “Couples have those sorts of problems all the time. Maybe you just need to be more… adventurous?”

  “That’s not the problem,” he said. “She’s very adventurous.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a slight shudder. “Anyway, my point is, I’m afraid we’re just not sexually compatible.”

  “Is it her age?” I asked gently.

  “That’s part of it. I mean, obviously, she’s incredibly old. But it’s also certain things about her body. I won’t go into specifics, but…”

  He stared off into the distance for a while.

  “I won’t go into specifics,” he repeated.

  “Look,” I said. “Weddings are stressful. Me and Julie? We barely spoke the week before our wedding. Trust me, things will get better on your honeymoon.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Where are you guys going, anyway?”

  “Central Africa. She’s starting a leper colony.”

  “Oh.”

  I heard some laughter in the distance. The gang was starting to show up.

  “I’m worried she has it,” Alan whispered.

  “What?”

  “Leprosy,” he said. “What if she’s got it?”

  I shook my head firmly.

  “She doesn’t have leprosy. I mean—you’d be able to tell.”

  “Would I?” he snapped. “Her skin’s already so messed up from all the years in the desert. What if she’s got leprosy?”