“Thank you for coming and bringing half the meal.” I look deep into Reidville, and part of me wants to set up residence there. The rational part stays firmly in my duplex.
“I’m thankful you invited me. Now, I must mention, Leona cornered me when I came out of the bathroom—oh, I love the Hello Kitty shower curtain. Anyway, Leona made me promise to take her up on a night of babysitting. I think she sees me loofah-ing it up with Hello Kitty ... or you.” The last part he says on a hush, meant for my ears only.
“Oh God. Leona. I can’t live without her. And I can’t live with her.” I jump down and put my glass in the sink.
“How’s this Saturday?”
“Really?”
“Really. I like Hello Kitty.”
I growl, but secretly, I love his joking. The way he infuses humor into my all-too-sarcastic and serious approach to life.
“Good night, Andi. Let me know.”
“Not this Saturday, but maybe the next. Night, Geeky Reid.”
“You’ll pay for that.” He winks and slips out into the night.
The UPS dude drops my Amazon packages at the door and hightails it to his next delivery, which is A-okay with me because my blog is waiting. I have Andrea to thank for the clarity, but my excitement is all Andi. She’s my muse.
Unpacking my latest apron, I smile to myself.Shit, I really am a geek.
Wearing a fitted white tee and my latest acquisition on top, I set up my camera and get to grilling.
I wonder if Andi will check out my blog today and see myGEEKS NEED TO EAT TOOapron. Does she even know what a blog is? Really is? Maybe she thinks the blog is even geekier than my day job?
I don’t know. Clearly, I’m manufacturing estrogen with all my emoting and wondering lately.
I’m making street tacos. After all, it’s Tuesday (after Thanksgiving), and Americans are sick of turkey and fixings. I say as much in the video portion of the post.
With my meat grilling, I set about mixing the toppings in the kitchen, snapping some pics, fearing I’m turning into Mrs. Doubtfire.
In need of some testosterone, I finish, quickly put up the post, and head to the gym.
I’m halfway secured in my manhood again when my phone pings with a text from Andi.
ANDI: I see you, Geeky Reid, in your apron.
She saw the post!
And I’m back to girly-obsessing Reid. For some reason, I’m fine with it. For years, I overcompensated with my manhood, feeling lesser-than as a stats geek. But with the blog booming and Andi’s attention, I’m at home with who I am.
Jesus, fuck. I need to get a grip.
I’m in the middle of sending a text when my phone rings. Hurrying up, I finish and swipe my phone.
“Hey—”
“Andonia, listen to me,” Delia says, her tone urgent.
“I am.”
“Because I’m crouched in the bathroom, on the toilet, whispering while the kids kill each other in the shower. Shampoo’s flying, and I’m going to have a royal mess on my hands.”
“I’m listening, Delia. Go on.”
Worrying more about her shower-entertaining tactics than what she’s about to say, I prop my foot on the chair across from me and glance at Gabby. She’s watching an episode ofHannah Montanaon Netflix.
