“Because,” I say, wondering what she needs me to repeat. “He’s twenty-four.”
“That’s not a can’t. He’s a legal adult. Try again.”
“Shelby, I could’ve babysat him.”
“But did you?” she asks. “Because unless Iowa is somehow now a parish in Louisiana, you didn’t.”
“I’m talking in theory,” I say, getting more flustered as traffic finally starts to inch forward. “But it’s not just that. Do you not remember that I’m recently divorced?”
“I do. Thank fucking lord.”
“So yeah.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment. “So yeah what?”
“So yeah I can’t date yet.”
“Says who? Was there a clause in the divorce agreement that says you’re banned from dating for a year? Because if so, that’s some bullshit considering fuck face started dating other women while you two were still married.”
“There’s no clause. It’s just…” I trail off because I don’t know what I want to say. Because those are my reasons. They should matter. They do matter.
At least, I thought they did.
I shouldn’t be ready to date, should I? Sure, the divorce was just finalized but we’ve been separated for more than two years. If it was anyone else telling me this timeline, I’d tell them to do what makes them happy.
Orwhomakes them happy.
“It’s what?” Shelby asks.
“It’s… am I ready?”
It’s the first time I’ve said anything like that out loud, but it feels good to acknowledge the fear.
“Now that is a reason why you maybe, or maybe not, use the word can’t,” Shelby says. “How about this… let’s break everything down.”
“Always my analytical friend,” I say with a half smile.
“Data never lies.”
If there’s one thing to know about Shelby, is that she looks at things from every angle, and usually has facts and examples to back things up. It helps her in the game of golf—what’s the yardage? The angle of her shot? What club should she use for maximum outcome? What did she use the last time she was in a similar situation? She takes that approach to life too, which is nice to have when you’re the friend that feels like she’s slowly going out of control.
“Let’s start off with basic questions, do you like him? And don’t give me any qualifying reasons. It’s a simple yes or no. Do you enjoy him as a person?”
I couldn’t lie if I wanted to. “Yes.”
“Do you like it when you spend time with him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to fuck him again?”
“Shelby!”
“What? It’s important for the data.”
“I hate you,” I say. “But the answer is yes.”
“Don’t hate me. Hate the facts,” she says. “Okay, so based on our early data, results say you should give the guy a chance, or at least see if there’s something there.”
