Never.
I took a freezing shower while Beowulf tripped over the bath mat, picked a fight with it, then lost and cried for my help.
“You need to grow into your name,” I told the small pup as I unwound the bath mat. “Now remember, I’m going to be gone tonight, so you need to be good.” Then I shook myself. I really did need to start putting myself out there if I thought it was perfectly acceptable to carry on a conversation with a dog.
“This date will be good for me,” I said to my reflection.
Beowulf barked in agreement then got freaked out that the dog in the mirror had barked at him. He rushed the mirror, banged into it, and bounced back on the floor.
I picked up the puppy and put him on the bed while I fastened my cuff links and tied the bow tie. I shrugged on my tuxedo jacket and turned on the TV for Beowulf, who settled down on my pillow.
“Don’t make a mess,” I warned the dog. “Also, you may have to move if I bring home company.”
Company? You can’t just bring home some woman you only just met, I chastised myself as I climbed into the limo that would take me across town to the hotel.
What if you took someone you did know?
Like Brea.
It was a clear signal of my wretched mental state if I was suddenly fantasizing about Brea.
She was just wearing the equivalent of a swimsuit. You cannot be the type of man who has so little self-control that a woman in a perfectly reasonable amount of clothes makes you stupid and excited.
I was satisfied that I did not have such a powerful reaction when my date walked out of the hotel. She resembled her Instagram photos at least.
“Mark,” she all but purred, “I’m Memphis Eve. It’s so nice to meet you in person.” Her eyes roamed over me appreciatively.
Brea never would have done that in a million years. Instead, she would have crossed her arms and told me I looked like a tool.
I held the door for Memphis Eve then helped her into the car.
“Champagne?” I offered as the driver took us across town to the historic hotel where my parents hosted the annual charity fundraiser.
On the ride over, Memphis Eve practically sat in my lap as she told obnoxious story after obnoxious story about hanging out with celebrities that I’d never even heard of. She scrolled through her Instagram feed, showing me pictures of herself that I was shocked that Instagram even let her post, as they were practically soft-core porn.
“See anything you like?” she purred.
But none of it was as titillating as Brea in her bra and panties, standing in the kitchen and yelling at me.
You need to get a grip, I ordered myself as I escorted Memphis Eve into the ballroom.
One of the servers offered her champagne, and she took it and sipped it.
“Would you care for anything to eat?” I asked her.
“Ugh, no,” she said. “I’m on a diet.” She gave that obnoxious, braying laugh. “My body is my money-making machine. Have to keep it in top form.”
She drained the champagne then said, “Just need to go freshen up. Have to look my best with all these important people here.”
I checked my watch. We’d only been here fifteen minutes. Maybe I could sneak out after the speeches.
My family was gathered around Liz, and they waved to me.
Just put in some face time and you can leave.
“He made it!” Grant boomed, patting me on the back. “I had bet money that you weren’t going to show.”
“Of course he’s going to be here; he had to bring his hot date,” Wes joked. “Mark’s the most desirable man in Manhattan!”
