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“It’s a long story. Old people, nice people. They respect the service I did, and they don’t want me to wind up being a hermit. The point is last time they asked me to come over for dinner, they left out the fact that they were going to ask her to come along, too.”
“The drama,” he teased. “You got set up on a blind date.”
“I’m sure there was some hope of that being the case,” I admitted. “Though I barely said two words to the girl the entire time we were there.”
“Did you learn her name at least?”
“Krissy,” I told him. “And I learned a few more things about her, too, but you know what? None of the things I learned about her fucking matter. It’s not like we’re going to be getting together or anything, and she is still on my mind just as much now as she was before.”
“Driving you insane, huh?” he asked.
“In a different way than you might think,” I told him.
“Uh-oh,” he said. “You got the hots for the girl?”
“You haven’t seen this girl,” I said. “She’s like a walking goddess, and I don’t know, the way she plays the guitar is just magical. I know you don’t get the same response from musicians that I do but imagine if you met a woman who is like your dream girl, then you find out she’s also really good at the one thing you enjoy doing. It’s like she and I were meant to cross paths. But I’m not sure, with the way we got off on the wrong foot, along with the fact she’s so much younger than me. I’m not sure how to deal with any of the things going on inside my head.”
“Slow down,” Miles said. “Not physically; keep up your jog, but you’re going to have to slow down with what you’re saying.”
“You’re an asshole,” I told him. “I’m keeping pace just fine, thank you, don’t worry about me.”
“So, what’s going on inside that head of yours?” he asked. “You better not do something crazy.”
“That’s just it,” I said. “I might do something crazy— but not in the way you’re thinking. I’m not going to make her life here a living hell, but I’m fighting the urge daily to go knock on her door and ask her out.”
“And why is that crazy?” he asked.
“Age for one,” I said.
“Which is?”
“She’s in her early to mid-twenties, and I’m nearly forty. That’s quite a gap,” I told him. “You know as well as I do that getting involved with a young woman can be the worst idea in a long, sad history of bad ideas.”
“Sure,” he said. “But that all comes down to the individual players.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you already said that you have a thing for this girl, you already said that you two both love music. You already said that you think she’s hot. I’m not hearing there being any mention of a boyfriend or a kid in the mix, so what’s the issue here?”
“I thought you were going to be a bigger help than this,” I said. “You’re supposed to be talking me out of doing something with her, not convincing me that there’s nothing wrong with pursuing her.”
“Well, you haven’t really said anything that has told me that this isn’t a good idea,” he said.
“Maybe the fact that every time my mind thinks about her, it goes straight to sex,” I said. “And let’s just say that I’m glad there isn’t anyone who can get a peek inside my head and see some of the sexual things we’re doing during these dreams.”
“Don’t make me jealous,” he said with a laugh. “And what’s wrong with thinking about sex? You have a dick. You want to use it. That’s just how it works.”
“I tend to think of using it on women who are closer to my age,” I told him.
“Then you’re an idiot,” he said. “There is nothing wrong with falling for who you fall for.”
“Who said anything about falling for her?” I asked. “You know I don’t do relationships.”
“Then why are you calling?” he asked.
“Fuck you,” I said.
He had a point. My problem wasn’t just that I wanted to sleep with this girl. It was largely because I wanted a lot more with this girl than just sex. She didn’t strike me as the kind of girl who would just have sex with me and forget about it. But, more than that, I didn’t want to have a one-night stand with her. I wanted to get to know her.
