“I mean, I had the choice between a guy who was really into me, or… you.”
I frown.
“No hard feelings, or anything!” she adds. “You’re a great guy, it’s just—”
“Just what?”
She elbows her friend. “Lois, help a girl out.”
Lois sighs. “What Becca is trying—and failing—to tell you is that you and Carter are from two different planets, that’s all.”
“Meaning?”
I watch her struggle for the words.
“He’s boyfriend material. You’re more like… a vagina vortex, if you will.”
“Are you kidding me?” I yell. “Carter was like the ultimate man-whore.”
“Wow! Excuse me?” Carter calls out from the couch.
Becca blows him a kiss. “Don’t sweat the small stuff, baby.”
This was supposed to be a chill conversation, and it’s suddenly gone all weird. Like, it’s kind of hurtful, and it’s shining a light on a part of myself I suddenly don’t know what to do with.
“Wait. Do women think I’m a dick?” I hear myself ask.
Lois scrunches her nose. “We never said that. It’s more like… You keep things light, you know?”
Oh great. Amazing. Love that for me. People think I’m basically like the shallow end of the pool. Which is pretty much word for word what Amelia said.Oh my fucking God, I might barf.
“What’s up, Donny? Since when do you care?”
Since I started trying to figure out where I went wrong.
“Maybe I just want to be a good guy, you know?”
Becca’s mouth falls open. “Are you saying you want a girlfriend? Did you meet someone?”
“No, but…”
My head is so all over the place, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. I just want to feel a little less like a loser right now. I’ve been a shitty brother, and I’m suddenly terrified that maybe I’d make a shitty boyfriend, too. That’s where I’m going with all this—I can’t treat girls the way I once did. I can’t be that guy anymore.
“So, suppose I want to become the perfect boyfriend,” I start. “How would I do that?”
The girls exchange glances.
Lois throws her hands up. “I’m not answering that question. First, because coming from you, it’s justsoweird. And second, because my boyfriend isn’t exactly normal.” She points over at Lane. “Which would make my advice kind of screwy.”
I glance over at my friend.She has a point.
I turn to look at Becca, and she dead-eyes me.
“Don’t look at me! When my guy isn’t writing porn movies, he’s watching them. I’d bet my left ovary that isn’t ‘normal’ behavior. You need to ask Carrie; she’s the expert.”
“Who?”
“Carrie. My roomie.”
