I knew it was from my back and forth with Bear, but I wouldn’t tell her that. She'd want to see pics, and I wasn't planning on sharing those.
“What? How do I sign up for an inbox full of dick?” she laughed.
“Jesse would love that.”
She pouted. “You always get to have all the fun.”
“Yeah, it's totally fun to chill with your cat every night.”
“It's fun for now. You get to explore the great world of penis, pleasure, and partying. I get to hang out with my husband and our never-ending supply of kids.”
“First of all, I don't party. Anymore.” I grinned. “I haven't seen a penis in months, and my pleasure is my business. Also, you only have four kids. Shut up.”
“That's four too many sometimes.”
“But they're cute, and they love you.”
“Damn right.” She smiled and took another sip of wine. “Tore me from taint to tush, but I wouldn't have it any other way.”
I sighed. “See! I want that!”
Her face twisted. “You want a torn taint? Uh, no.”
“Shut up. I want a family.”
I’d always longed for little ones, probably from my lack of siblings growing up, but things were looking grim. Thirty-two wasn’t ancient, but my biological clock was ticking louder and louder.
“You get to be their cool aunt they hang out with when mommy and daddy need a night out before they lose it.”
“Oh yeah. Life ambition right there.”
“You have it made right now. You only have to keep yourself and Hank alive.” She looked over at the gray feline stretched out on the floor. “And Hank could survive without you. He's a fierce son of a bitch.”
“Yep. A canceled wedding, a string of shit dates, and a job I hate. Those sure don't sound like the things fairy tales are made of.”
She perked up. “Can you imagine how bored you'd be if everything in your life went perfectly? Like oh poo. I'm married to a millionaire, and my sex life is great, and I have the perfect job. Wah.” She took another hasty swig of wine. “You'd still be popping benzos and having panic attacks in the shower like the rest of us. Don't kid yourself.”
“Well, aren't you a ball of sunshine?” The mood soured and her angst hung in the air like cheap hair spray. “I'd like to think I'd be happy eventually. You're not happy?”
“I am, and I love them more than anything, but I also hate my job and occasionally want to whack my husband over the head with a hammer. It's called balance.”
“Every relationship has its moments.”
“Yeah, well, we won’t have anymore together if you get murdered by some internet freak.”
“I won't get murdered. I promise.” I reached out and patted her thigh.
She turned her attention back to the app. “Have you met anyone on here?“
“I've sorted out some weeds, but I've been talking to someone.”
“Have you met him yet?” she asked, raising a brow.
“No. I'm trying to get a feel for him first.”
She smiled, and I could tell she was warming to the idea. “What do you think of him so far?”
“He's a nice guy.”
She smiled, crossing her long legs. “What's his name?”
Shit. If she was freaked before, she would fly into a complete panic if she found out the truth, but it was now or never. “I don't know his first name yet.”
“WHAT?” She looked at me like an alien speaking in tongues.
“That's part of the mystery. No names until you meet.”
I had to admit that I wasn't initially a fan, but the idea grew on me. I doubted I'd willingly sext with a Hubert or a Chester.
“Oh, that's bullshit!”
“I like it. It removes another level of bias people may have. I'd likely never go on a date with another Justin again, even if he was a sweetheart.”
“What's his screen name or whatever?”
“You're going to laugh.”
She reddened. “Oh God. Hit me, sister.”
“Bear.”
“Bear? Are you sure you're not on a furry app?” she cackled.
“I thought the same thing...” I couldn't help but crack a smile since it had definitely crossed my mind more than once.
“And you're sure...?” she trailed, raising a brow.
“I'm positive. He's not into that stuff.”
After our chats, I knew he was into me, not people in furry suits. That, or he was talented at faking it.
She leaned back, eyeing my phone. “Or hairy men?”
“No. He exclusively prefers the kitty.” I thought the same and pushed him on it, discovering he was anything but well-versed on gay terms. As obvious as it was to someone like me who lived in West Village in college, the poor guy hadn’t had a clue.
She shook her head with a smile, choking down a laugh. “That's unfortunate. What's yours?”
“Jewels.” I smiled. My college nickname was the perfect guise for anonymity.
“Aw!” she cooed. “So tell me about him.”
He’s a built babe with dick for days. I forced the thought away to keep it PG. “He's funny and easy to talk to. He's into a lot of the same stuff I like too.”
“Like?” she pushed, never one to settle with just a few scraps of information. Lee was a details person, especially with my love life.
“Concerts and traveling. He runs too.”
She smiled. “Job?”
“He works in management. I'm thinking in finance since he comes across like a numbers guy.”
“So he's boring?” she teased.
Her husband, Jesse, was a firefighter who breathed masculinity, making office-dwelling men look plain in comparison. She always picked on me about my choices in men, trying to set me up with guys from the station, but I wouldn’t take the bait. I was too anxious to date a man who risked his life daily. I’d have to check into a psych ward with each call.
“No, pragmatic like Justin. You know, a details guy.”
“And you like that?” She looked at me like I was insane.
“I don't mind it. I have a degree in logistics, remember? And yeah, I’m a little disorganized here and there, but sometimes
