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I purse my lips at her and narrow my eyes. “Of course not. That little metaphor was just for you girls.”
Amelia giggles, and then I continue. “And three, he has to have an ass. I mean, even if he’s not the largest guy on the planet in other areas, a nice, plump, hard ass makes up for that. Especially if he likes to be spanked.”
Charlotte spits mimosa across the table. “Dear lord. You spank men?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Why not? If women like it so much, who’s to say men don’t enjoy a little love tap, too?”
“You are seriously deranged, Pen. I feel like I just learned about this entirely different side to you, which is scary considering I feel like I already know way too much about your sex life as it is.”
“You’re welcome,” I state matter-of-factly as I spear a piece of my waffle and plop it into my mouth. “But my point is, there are plenty of men that fit that bill. Why limit myself to just one? And Tony... well, Tony wanted more, and you know that’s not my style.”
Noelle chimes in. “So that’s it? That’s your criteria to allow a man into your bed?”
“Well, first, we never go to my place...”
“Now you really sound like a guy,” Charlotte mutters, but I can tell she’s just being sarcastic.
“Come on. Would you want some potential stage-five clinger to know where you live? It’s shit like that that makes me grateful I never took Tony back to my place. Because once he started to catch feelings, I know he would have shown up to my house and started begging me to reconsider.”
“But have you thought about reconsidering?” Noelle asks.
“Reconsidering what?”
“Trying for more with him? Or any man, for that matter? You never let things go beyond the physical, Pen. I’m not shaming you for it. Please know that’s not what I’m saying.” I nod, urging her to continue because I know my girlfriends would never look down on me for enjoying sex and actively seeking it out. No woman should ever feel ashamed for that. “It’s just that, now that I think about it, in all the years that we’ve known you, I don’t believe you’ve ever had a boyfriend,” she says, tapping her chin. Then she peers across the table at my other two friends, who are studying me as they question the validity of her assessment.
“I’ll save you some time, ladies. Noelle’s right. I haven’t. I don’t date. I told you this way back when the four of us became friends freshman year of college.”
“But why, Penelope?” Charlotte asks softly, emotion clouding her voice now. “You have so much to offer someone. I guess I’m just trying to understand—”
“I don’t need a man to be happy, okay?”
“We know that,” Amelia interjects. “That’s not what we’re saying. But don’t you ever wonder if you can have more by just letting someone in?”
Sucking my lips in, I stare down at my plate, my appetite gone.
My friends are concerned, and their questions are only coming from a good place right now, I know this. But the truth of the matter is, I’ve never told them exactly why I don’t date.
I just always played it off, stating there were too many men out there to enjoy to commit to only one. I just want to live my life with no regrets before potentially settling down with someone.
Penelope Klein is just down for a good time, not a long time.
They don’t know that falling in love is the thing that almost destroyed me when I was younger, and I don’t know if I could live through that again.
After a few moments of silent contemplation, I decide to throw them a bone. “My one brush with love didn’t end well, so I vowed never to go there again.”
“You’ve been in love?” Charlotte asks, her eyes practically popping out of her head.
“High school love, girls. And it was the real deal. But—”
“What happened?” Noelle cuts me off. “And why on earth haven’t you ever told us this?”
“It... it didn’t work out, okay? And I don’t like talking about it.” I sit up taller in my chair, straightening my shoulders and shaking my hair back into place. “So now you know, but please don’t go any further with your questions because there is nothing more to say.”
Amelia licks her lips and then takes a bite of her oatmeal, chewing slowly as she locks her eyes onto me. I hate when she does that, because I know that therapist mind of hers is at work, dissecting all of my issues from my childhood that I’ve yet to deal with.
Well, news flash, I don’t need a therapist or one of my best friends to tell me that. I already know my mind is full of some fucked-up issues that would probably benefit from some emotional unpacking. But I also know that there’s no reason to bother when I’m living my life just fine and have been for years.
“Just say it, Amelia. I know you’re psychoanalyzing me over there right now.”
