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“I think that was the last one,” I said, walking out of the small pantry in my kitchen.
“Hell yeah. This calls for a snack break.”
I walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. “I’m one step ahead of you. I made crab Rangoon dip.”
“Ooh, like the inside of crab Rangoon?”
“Yep. And we have wonton chips to dip in it. I just need to warm it up.”
Sam reached into the big tote bag she’d brought over and pulled out a bottle of vodka. “I’m making us some boozy slushies.”
It was early Saturday afternoon, and Sam was helping me get the last of my unpacking done. We were working hard now so we could spend our evening on the couch catching up on shows.
“Is it okay if I turn on Cliterally Speaking?” I asked.
Sam and I had a shared love for the podcast that was recorded here in Denver. We both wanted to be friends with the host.
“Go for it,” she said.
I pulled up the podcast on my phone and started the most recent episode, my Bluetooth speaker connecting to my phone so we could listen at a higher volume.
“Hey guys, it’s Marlowe Hill with Cliterally Speaking. My guest today is Maria Sanchez, a local singer I adore. Seriously, Maria, I was so excited when you responded to my message and said you’d come by.”
Maria laughed. “I’m so happy to be here. When you said you wanted to talk about bad dates, I couldn’t say yes fast enough. I’ve had so many I don’t even know where to start.”
“It’s something all women have in common, isn’t it?” Marlowe said. “We’ve all had those cringeworthy dates and it helps to know we aren’t alone. So let’s dive right in—what’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?”
“The worst?” Maria said. “Oh, that’s so hard. There was the date that was so awful it never even happened.”
Marlowe laughed. “Do tell.”
“So I met this guy online and we’d been talking for almost a month. He seemed great. No red flags. He asked if we could meet up for dinner and I said sure. When he asked me to make a reservation somewhere I loved, I threw out the name of my favorite place.”
“Seems non-nightmarish so far.”
“Yeah, so he says he’ll look it up and then he gets back to me and says it’s a no-go because it’s too close to an elementary school and it would violate the conditions of his parole.”
“Shut. Up.”
“Yeah, that happened. I immediately cancelled my membership on that app.”
I sampled the dip and returned it to the microwave for another minute, grabbing a bunch of scallions to wash, chop, and spread on top when it was finished.
“So this isn’t actually a dating story, per se,” Marlowe said. “But it’s too fucking absurd not to share. Last year I had been dating a guy for five weeks and I honestly started thinking he was normal. He had a good job and sent me flowers every week. He watched rom-coms with me anytime I wanted. And then we got intimate, and he told me it would really turn him on if I had conversations with his penis.”
“Wait, what?” Maria asked.
Sam was howling with laughter already.
“He told me his penis’s name was Willie,” Marlowe said. “And he wanted me to get, like face to penis with it and say things like, ‘Oh, Willie, you’re so veiny and hard. You’re such a naughty boy.’”
“Oh no,” Maria said. “Did you do it?”
“I kind of did,” Marlowe said, clearly on the verge of laughing. “But he got pissed when I vented to Willie about my Instacart order getting messed up and asked him if he just wanted to stay limp and chill that night.”
Sam poured ingredients into my blender and pressed a button. I arranged wonton chips on a platter, took the dip out of the microwave and scattered the scallions on it.
“I could live on crab Rangoon,” Sam said as she poured our drinks into glasses.
