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That was why I liked chatting to Ben. He was a softy who didn’t make me feel like a douche for showing my sensitive side.
“At the time, we joked about it.” I shrugged. “Maybe I discovered a deeper side to myself.” I played with a coaster. “Thanks, Ben.”
He sipped his beer. “For what?”
“For listening.”
He smiled. “Then pop the question and skip off into the sunset.”
“What if she says no?”
“She won’t. You’re a catch. Good looking. Rich. Big dick.”
“Huh?” My eyebrows collided.
“Sandy told me. You know, the girl we both fucked?”
I cringed at that regretful chapter of our college days, sharing girls.
“What about intelligence? I haven’t read a book since fucking college. And even then, I paid someone to write my essay.”
“So?”
“Ivy likes to read. She’s very bright. Smarter than me. One of her many attractive features.”
“Try not to overthink it. You’re erudite.”
“What does that mean?” I pulled at my hair a little more vigorously than usual.
“Sharp and worldly.”
I nodded slowly. “I have a thing for the National Geographic channel, I guess. And I do prefer documentaries to movies.”
“There. Curiosity makes a person brainy.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” I thought about this for a moment. “Does that include wondering what size a girl’s bra cup is?”
He rolled his eyes and laughed. “Back to shallow Chase. I love you, bro.”
We laughed, reminiscing over the weddings we’d attended while degenerating into total dicks. I left the bar wondering if I should visit a bookstore. Instead, I called into the office and started putting together a pitch for the spa. I doodled a picture of a man in loose garments bowing his head and uttering, “Namaste.”
I leaned back in my chair, munching on chips, dreaming up slogans that would sell the spa to tired, overworked executives who’d forgotten to smell the roses.
