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“No, I suppose not.” Was this a date? I suppose I could ask him, but that seemed so juvenile. Plus, there was a candle flickering on the table, and he’d obviously cleaned up, and…who was I kidding? I busted out my goddamn pushup bra. Lord knows why. This couldn’t go anywhere. I’d already confided in him that I was actively shopping for strange men’s sperm. “So how come you’re here with me?”
“Who else would I be here with?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Some other woman who hasn’t already admitted what a loon she is.”
“To be honest, I find your lunacy refreshing.”
“How could that be?”
“Well, I don’t know how many women you’ve dated.”
“Zero,” I said. “I’ve dated zero women…though I’ve had a few girl crushes in my day.”
He turned an ear towards me. “Let’s talk more about that.”
“Maybe later,” I said, waving the suggestion away. “Finish what you were saying about my refreshing lunacy.”
“Right,” he continued. “It’s simple, really. Most women try to hide their crazy. They give Oscar-worthy performances designed to make you think they’re the chillest chick on the planet. Except unicorns aren’t real, so you’re left guessing what they’re hiding.”
“Sounds exciting.”
“It’s not,” he said. “It’s terrifying. Whereas you came right out with your crazy and haven’t pretended to be anything you’re not, as far as I can tell. Besides less into me than you are, but that’s only because you’re restrained.”
I squinted at him. “Have you always been this confident?”
“No,” he said. “It’s my new deodorant. Makes me smell great and sound cleverer than I am.”
“Good to know they’re selling confidence at Walgreens now. We should alert the masses.”
“Could do.”
“Also,” I said, raising a finger. “Can we back up for a second?”
“Sure.”
“What’s my crazy?”
“You’ve got mad baby fever, and you don’t let your hair down enough.”
I opened my mouth to object but closed it again.
“Fortunately,” he said, flashing a smile. “I know a guy who can help you with both those things.”
