a club.” But then reality hit. My last serious relationship had been Allen, and that made me gun-shy to dig in. “Hey, Charlie, you’re not married are you?”
“Hell no! And why would I hit on you if I was married?”
I shrugged even though he couldn’t see me. “I just like to check.” I cringed, thinking I’d blown it—that he’d hang up and never talk to me again.
But then he said, “So how do you feel about my coming and picking you up tomorrow night? I don’t want to have to wait longer than that.”
I was officially swept off my feet.
For the first month, Charlie and I had nothing but fun. We hit dance clubs and went to party after party together. One of his friends was always having a get-together, and they were usually big, extravagant things— money was obviously not an object. It was a blur of fun, loud, good times.
By then my apprenticeship at Metamorphosis was almost up, and I was working like crazy to make sure I got a coveted designer position. I spent a few weeks mixing and matching color swatches for an upcoming pitch while downing muffins and energy drinks.
Since Charlie was what Steph and I referred to as a “trust-fund baby,” he didn’t have a job. I think he occasionally went to the one college class he was taking, and though he didn’t have much purpose in life besides having a good time, he was very good at it.
One night when I was putting the finishing touches on my pitch, he took my laptop away and held it out of reach. “If you don’t get busy living, you’re going to look back at your life and find it empty.”
When I reached for it, he kissed me, keeping my computer out of reach. “Come on, baby,” he said. “Let’s go out. You deserve a break.” He kissed my neck, then moved his lips to my jawline. “Wherever you want to go. Whatever you want to do.”
So we went out and hit the party scene, the way we had before my life had gotten so busy. And I liked that he made me take time for myself so I didn’t get too burned out.
Then I got my full-time job at Metamorphosis, life slowed down a bit, and Charlie and I started spending a little quiet time together. We didn’t do that well with quiet time. Remember how in
A few big fights later, I knew we weren’t going to work. But because I had so much fun when we went out, I hesitated to end it.
I was sitting in his apartment with him and his friends when things took a turn for the worse. They were watching sports, like they did every minute they could.
“Can you believe those chicks at the club last night?” Joe, one of Charlie’s roommates, said.
“There should be a weight limit on girls dancing in the cages,” Charlie said.
“And at Hooters.”
Charlie tossed a handful of chips in his mouth. “Unless their boobs are what tips them over the scale,” he said through the crunching.
I sat there for a moment, not believing what I’d just heard. “Seriously?”
Eyes still locked on the screen, Charlie kissed my cheek. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re not even close to that weight.”
I injected my words with sarcasm. “Yes, that’s what I’m worried about. Not that my boyfriend is a chauvinistic pig.”
“When did you get so serious about everything?” he asked.
I shoved the magazine I’d been looking at into my purse and sighed. “Good-bye, Charlie. You and I aren’t going to work out.”
Charlie’s gaze actually left the screen this time. “Come on, baby. It will work if you just loosen up.”
“Well, this is who I am.”
“No, you used to be cool.”
“No, you don’t really know me.” I’d never been very good at the break-up part, but I didn’t wan to end on a completely horrible note. “So, good luck with everything and all that. It was fun while it lasted.”
“I don’t need this!” he shouted. “Just go!” He then proceeded to act like he was dumping me, even though I’d already ended the relationship.
So I packed up my practically glass slippers and hit the road.
Cinderella was the first fairy tale I remember—the one I was most obsessed with because of the gowns and magic and pretty shoes. Yes, her home life was less than ideal—and considering the talking mice and birds, she probably needed serious therapy. But she gave me the most unrealistic expectations of all. Falling in love at first sight, becoming a princess with everything she’d ever need at her disposal, and a relationship that ended happily ever after, with never an argument or bad day in sight.
And worst of all, she made me think all I needed in life was a man to come and whisk me away.
Time Wasted: Four months, but honestly, two of those were pretty fun.
Lessons Learned:
You have to actually talk to the person to get to know him.
You need to know how to work as well as play. It’s about balance, not having some guy come in and show you how to have fun. Or tell you what an uptight workaholic you are.
Make sure he at least has aspirations or ambitions of some kind.
Never date a guy who thinks you’re more an object than a human being capable of using a brain.
No sports fanatics.
Chapter Seven
I punched the elevator button repeatedly, like that would make it come to pick me up faster. If I wasn’t wearing five-inch heels, I might’ve even considered running down the stairs. I hated being late, the stress when you had to rush to get somewhere. Which was why I was never late. Really, I wasn’t even
The elevator finally arrived.
On the way down, I sent a text to Stephanie, stating I was running a few minutes behind for my date, hoping she’d pass on the information to Karl.
I stepped out of the elevator and hurried across the parking garage toward my car. When I went to put my phone in my purse, I dropped my keys. I bent to pick them up and the contents of my unzipped purse poured onto the ground.
“Argh!” Squatting down to get the items was no small feat, considering the binding black ruched skirt I was wearing.
I was gathering the last of it when a tube of lip gloss was thrust in front of my face. I looked up and saw Jake. I took the lip gloss from him, tossed it in my purse, and stood.
“You look nice,” he said. “Hot date?”
My skirt had inched up, exposing much more of my legs than I meant to. I tugged it back down. “I don’t know about hot, but I’ve got a date. It’s something my friend set up.”
“Let me guess.” Jake counted the list off on his fingers. “He doesn’t live in the building, doesn’t work at your favorite restaurant… What are your other requirements?”
I was sure he was mocking me, but I went ahead and rattled off more of the list, just so he’d see it wasn’t something I took lightly. “No oral surgeons—I’ll just generalize and say dentists of any kind. No lawyers. No liars. No dance-club guys, workaholics, or slackers.”
He arched an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
It almost sounded like a challenge. I met his gaze and raised an eyebrow of my own. “Pretty much. Until I find something else to add, which I’m sure I will.” I double-checked I’d zipped my purse, then slid it over my
