1
CHARLOTTE
“What the fuck?”I screeched like a banshee unable to believe my eyes.
“Charlotte! What are you doing home?”
“I live here! What the fuck are you doing?”
“Um?”
Yeah um. My fiancé, well ex-fiancé Todd, was sitting on the couch with his dick in his hand while some skank paraded around the living room in my wedding dress. My fucking wedding dress. The wedding dress I was supposed to wear next month. The wedding dress I’d spent hours scouring stores for and wasted way too much money on. The one I hadn’t worn yet. The one I’d never get the chance to wear.
“And who the fuck are you?” I asked, pinning the ho with a glare that should’ve made her cower but instead had her pushing her chest out trying to fill my dress. Nice try bitch. That dress had been altered to fit my perky C cup tits perfectly.
“Ah, Todd …” she looked to him for help like he was going to be able to do anything. He was still trying to find his pants and tuck his tiny, limp dick away.
This wasn’t what I was expecting to come home to tonight. After five days in Boston at a conference, I was tired, hungry, and looking forward to a long soak in a super-hot bubble bath. My flight had been delayed, and the turbulence as we landed at O’Hare airport had my usual strong stomach turning over. After grabbing a cab, I’d stopped to pick up some Thai takeout which was now splattered all over the rug and my shoes.
“You know what,” I started with a sigh. “Keep it. There’s no way I’m wearing it anyway.”
Without saying another word, I spun on my heel, grabbed the handle of my suitcase, walked straight back out the door, and ignoring Todd’s whiny protests, slammed it dramatically behind me. I couldn’t be there. It was my apartment and all my stuff was there, but right now I couldn’t think of anything I wanted.
Stomping back down the hall, I hailed a cab and rattled off an address without really thinking before slumping into the back seat, ignoring the smell of curry engulfing me.
Closing my eyes, I let the anger wash over me. I couldn’t believe I was that fucking stupid. How had I let myself end up in that position? Was I so desperate for someone, anyone to love me that I settled for that limp dicked scumbag who didn’t know a good thing when he saw it? Two years! Two years of my life wasted on that douche canoe. Two years I’d never get back but always regret.
I met Todd at a bar. After Hannah and Mason finally got together, something that took far longer than it should’ve due to her stubbornness, I saw how happy they were and I realized that all these years I’d been telling myself that I was better off alone and how happy I was concentrating on my career, I finally heard it for what it was. Complete and utter crap. It was bullshit. Seeing what happy looks like and comparing it to what I had, they were miles apart.
But I didn't have time to date. I know, it was dumb. I wanted to find someone but didn’t have the time to look. So, I’d done what any desperate thirty-two-year-old, time-poor woman did when she was looking for love. I went online.
After sifting through the creeps and there were a lot, I met George and we started chatting. He didn’t seem to mind when it took me a couple of days to reply to his messages and he never complained when the answers I gave were vague. Two months of chatting later, I figured what the hell and agreed to meet up with him. I picked a bar close to home that I knew wouldn’t be deserted on a Thursday night. The last thing I needed to become was another online statistic. I could see the headline now, “Desperate, almost cat woman found in alley after another online dating disaster.”
But George seemed nice, so I took a risk. I dusted off my favorite red dress that hugged my curves, shaved places that hadn’t been shaved in a long time, even found a pair of heels tucked away in the back of my closet, and headed out trying not to get overly excited.
I’d arrived early wanting to make sure I made a good impression. I ordered a Cosmo from the cute bartender and found a table against the wall where I could see the door. He was twenty minutes late. It should’ve been my first warning sign, but desperation was pumping through my veins or maybe it was vodka or perhaps, pure stubbornness. I refused to give up on my first date in way too long over something so trivial as running a little late.
I was swirling the last of my cocktail in the bottom of my glass, trying to decide whether to order another or give up and head home. Throwing back the last of my drink, I grabbed my purse and went to stand up when someone sank into the chair opposite me.
“I’m sorry, I was just leaving,” I excused myself, not bothering to explain that I’d been waiting for someone. I looked pathetic enough without having to publicize it.
“Charlotte?”
When he knew my name I froze. I had no idea who this was.
“It’s me, George,” he replied.
That’s when I really looked at him. And true to his word, as agreed, he’d worn a blue button-down and a pair of khakis.
That was about all that was true though. The guy sitting in front of me was not the owner of the dating profile I’d been admiring, and in the darkness and privacy of my own bedroom, fantasizing about.
“Oh,” I managed to blurt out, not sure what to do. As much as I wanted to run for the hills, I didn’t want to be rude. As if by a miracle at that moment the waitress appeared and took our order. I ordered another drink while he ordered a coke and a meal without even asking if I minded. I guess only one of us at the table had manners and it certainly wasn’t George.
“Sorry I’m late. Mom was late getting home from work and couldn’t drop me off any earlier?” he offered in the way of an apology.
“Your mom?” I questioned.
With a shrug of his shoulder, almost like it was no big deal, George confessed he lived in his mother’s basement, was a professional gamer, oh and by the way, would I mind picking up the check for dinner because he hadn’t got his allowance this week.
