I take a huge swig of wine. “I said I wanted someone I can have good, sweaty sex with.”
“Someone who knows what women want in bed and understands how to give it to them,” Alyssa quotes me.
“But I also want him to be a good man,” I ramble. God, this wine is going straight to my head. “I don’t need a commitment or promises of tomorrow, but I do want someone decent and kind. I want someone worthy of Emery Walker and all she has to offer.”
“Exactly! You deserve that and more,” Alyssa, my bestie-turned-cheerleader, says as she raises her glass and I clink mine to hers.
I’m not asking for a lot.
And yet I am.
Because before Henry, every date I had sucked.
Like really sucked.
The fact that I picked Henry because he didn’t entirely suck, and then stuck with him for three years? That was a big lapse in judgment.
The truth is, I was obsessed with my job. But with that obsession came ignoring other parts of my life, which led to a whole lot of passionless nights. Somewhere along the way, I forgot how to ask for what I wanted.
“In life or in bed?” Alyssa asks me pointedly.
God, I hate how I say things out loud without meaning to sometimes.
“In bed,” I tell her. “I know what I want in life. Or at least, I used to.”
“You will again,” she tells me. “You just need a break.”
I definitely do need a break.
I also need a good man to get over a bad one.
Some women take time for themselves.
Some throw themselves into their career.
I have no career at the moment, so what’s left for me? Agood vacation… and to prove that not all men are assholes.
Alyssa smiles at me, her blond hair falling softly around her shoulders.
“A blind date,” she says firmly. “In fact, I know just the guy.” She starts typing into her phone. “I’m texting him now.”
“What?!” I reach across the table and try to grab her phone out of her hand or at least disrupt her text.
No such luck.
“Sent.”
“Lyssa! The timing for this seems all off. I’m down and out about being jobless. I’m not a good catch right now. Not that I am normally, but right now, I’m at pretty much rock bottom.”
“Wrong. You’re hot, and this date will help you take your mind off your problems. Yes, you’re jobless. But you also haven’t had sex in far too long, Mimi,” she says, calling me by the pet name my close circle often uses.
I roll my eyes. “For you, too long is twenty-four hours.”
She laughs that gorgeous belly laugh she’s had since we were kids and met on the school playground. Alyssa’s always cheered me up. But just as importantly, she always has a solution to everything.
“True. Our sexual appetites are different. But you know you want a good night of sex. Every woman needs to release tension. And you’ve got so much pent-up, honey. Plus, not to be rude, but Henry was a total dickhead.”
I sigh. “He really was.”
