Isat on my patio, my feet up on the table and a beer in my hand, the night quiet except for Harriette’s rustling around in the yard. I shut my eyes and breathed in the salty air.
Why did I have to go and send flowers? And I don’t mean calling up 1-800-Flowers like some dumb bachelor. No, I’d googled for the most highly recommended boutique florist in New York City and called them up myself.
“I need something special for someone ... unique,” I’d said over the phone. “A one-off, rich in colors and, hmmm, let me think. In a champagne glass?”
The guy with an accent told me he could work with that, and set about e-mailing me a picture of an oversized champagne glass and a quote. I’d responded right away with an affirmative.
Okay, before you start handing out awards for “Dude of the Year,” I must admit, I’d seen this move in a movie. It was a romantic dramedy where the guy never seemed to get the girl he wanted until ... he really tried.
Story of my life, really.
I’d had a ton of women. Gingers, brunettes, and even a few Asians. I liked them all. They liked me too. I was funny and I set them at ease. They weren’t perfect. Too skinny, heads covered with overly curly hair, they loved the Jedi Force or enjoyed graphic novels—those were my kind of girl. Around me, they felt good about themselves, at ease and confident. They complimented me and meant it.
I was self-made, successful, and a bit of a romantic. All those characteristics were in my favor. And my personality wasn’t so bad, I’d been told. I listened to people, really listened, and I was generous. In and out of bed.
Although I’d been told this, I’d never gottenthe girl, the one everyone else wanted. And the minute I saw Charli walk onto the plane, I knew she wasthatkind of girl. The one everyone wanted.
Yeah, she tried to hide behind the bitchy attitude, the New York snobbery, but for a minute or five, I broke her down. I saw behind her prissy shell and couture armor, and I wanted that. All of that.
“I did, my pretty lady,” I said to my only true girl. “I saw it and broke her down.”
Actually, my one-and-only sat at my side, panting from chasing after her ball and dripping drool onto my knee. I shifted in my seat, wincing when my cargo shorts bit into my ass, and sighed at the sight of my T-shirt clinging to my stomach—a reminder of why my dog was my only girl.
On a long exhale, I told myself I should settle for one of the women who found me appealing, inside and out, rather than chase the unattainable. But I couldn’t stop my mind from conjuring up images of Charli, or running away with the idea of seeing her again.
I had a plan.
If she’d only e-mail me back.
Harriette looked at me likeWhat the fuck?Her soft doggie eyes were so droopy and inviting, and even though she adored me, even she didn’t believe I had a chance.
“Here’s to hoping the flowers help. Come on, girl.” I stood, patted Harriette on the head, and went back inside the house.
