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“Well, it could be because I accidentally called her fat.”
I huffed out a laugh. “How do you accidentally call someone fat?”
“Well, she wore a pair of jeans and asked,Does this make me look fat?”
My eyes slid closed in disbelief.
“And I said yes.”
“Why would you do that?” I asked, jerking him back as he was about to step on a loose board.
“Hey, she asked. If you don’t want the answer, don’t ask the question.”
I grunted, not really understanding the ins and outs of relationships, other than calling a woman fat usually wasn’t a good thing. “So, did you apologize?”
“Of course.”
“Did you get makeup sex?”
He stopped walking and turned to me, giving me a mocking look. “Seriously? You think that shit actually exists?”
“It doesn’t?”
“Have you ever had makeup sex?”
I thought back on my few relationships, and the one that imploded in my face. Back then, I thought I was the relationship king. Then I realized just how badly I’d been played. Looking back on it, we never really fought, so the chance of makeup sex was never on the table.
“I guess not.”
“See?” he pointed at me. “Makeup sex is a myth created by men.”
“And why would men create a myth about something every guy wants?”
He shrugged. “The way I figure it, one guy got in a fight with his girl, and to make it seem like he hadn’t fucked up so bad, he told his buddies he got makeup sex. He made it sound like it was the best sex of his life. And then all those idiots went and told their friends.”
“Except, they would find out it didn’t exist when they didn’t get makeup sex.”
“Precisely,” he grinned. “And there-in lies the problem. It was literally the world’s first pyramid scheme. Guy number two begins to wonder if he did something wrong to not get makeup sex, but he can’t admit to his buddies that he didn’t get it. So, he does the same as guy one and says how amazing it is. And so the story continues. I figure it’s probably been going on for at least a hundred years.”
“And before that?”
He laughed at that, slapping me on the shoulder. “Before that, men just took what they wanted.” Sighing, he glanced up at the dripping ceiling. “I blame it on electricity.”
I followed his gaze. “The leaky ceiling?”
“No, the makeup sex situation,” he said, looking at me like I was an idiot.
“What does electricity have to do with makeup sex?”
He shrugged. “Fuck if I know. It was the industrial revolution.”
I shook my head, not understanding what he was saying at all.
“Alright, let me check out the foundation. It looks like shit to me, but you might be able to get away with some new support beams if it’s not too bad.”
“What do you need me to do?”
He looked at me thoughtfully. “You could call Amy and break up with her for me.”
“And why would I do that?”
“I can’t stay with a woman that won’t give me makeup sex.”
“By your calculations, you’ll be alone forever.”
