Ruth shakes her head. “Red flag.”
Her hands shoot up like she’s making a call in a game, and somehow, she’s still ahead of me. My chest burns with the effort required to keep up.
“I’m a fifty-two-year-old divorced bisexual man whose only encounter with another man barely happened. Thirty-five years ago. I’m in no place to judge anyone’s red flags.”
“Kenneth Lester, you are a complete jaddy, and the sooner you accept that, the happier you will be.”
“Jaddy?”
“A Jewish daddy. Jaddy. Sexy AF.” She kisses her fingers one at a time.
“I’m not sure it’s okay for you to call your principal and immediate supervisor a ‘jaddy,’ but I’ll overlook it.”
“You are so not my type, Kent.”
“But you just said I was a jaddy.”
“Exactly.”
Another glance, her deep brown eyes peering, emphasizing her remark with a stare. Ruth was the first person I came out to at school. Being married to a woman, everyone assumes you’re straight. Nope. Bisexual the entire time. When I told her, Ruth shouted, “Hot damn. Yes. More queers at Lear. Welcome to the club.” Besides Theo, the custodian, Ruth is my only real confidant at school.
“And the talking … ” I pause, taking a deep inhale.
“What?” Ruth’s eyes widen.
“It wasn’t just the dirty talk. He wanted me to … ” Even though I know we’re completely alone, I give a quick glance behind us. “ … call him a ‘good boy.’”
Ruth stops walking, pulls her head back, and stares at me.
“Praise kink? On the first date? Damn. Go, Mr. Lester.”
“Is that weird?” I ask. Did I go overboard? Say too much. Maybe that’s why he asked me to leave so quickly.
“Hell no. It’s fucking hot. People love it for several reasons. Some want to feel valued. Desired.”
I picture Vincent on his knees, looking up at me with his rich hazel eyes, lashes fluttering, and I stumble on the track’s rubber surface.
“Did you like it?” Ruth asks.
“I … think so? Honestly, I was so caught up in the moment. It kind of just happened. I was … filthy.” Even in the frigid air, my face flashes hot.
“Yeah, you were.” She pats my back and resumes walking, gently prodding me along.
“Well, I’m not seeing him again. He made that clear.”
“That’s too bad. He sounds hot.” Ruth shrugs. “You put yourself out there. I give you props for that,” she says.
“Yeah, being rejected on a first date … not exactly magnificent for my confidence.”
At the restaurant, Vincent was sweet. Charming. His willingness to share so much about himself so quickly had me swooning. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone home with him.
“Don’t give up. This guy may not have seen you’re a total package beyond a ‘jaddy,’ but someone will.”
Corrine pushed me to sign up for SWISH—the irony. One benefit of divorcing because you’ve become more companions than anything else? Keeping my best friend.
We walk in silence for a few minutes, and I notice a pensive look on Ruth’s face.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
