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I turn to see the familiar face, Charlie’s friend, Rocky. Gee, looks like all her friends are here tonight. Is this a vendetta against me? You know, let’s kick him while he’s down? I don’t feel like another lecture about being a naughty boy, so I plan to use an I-don’t-feel-well excuse if needed. Sunstroke? Yes, I’ll use that, except it’s night, and your brain is intoxicated, moron.
Rocky plonks himself on the stool beside me and motions for the bartender to serve us. He orders some fancy beverage which also sits in a coconut, makes a comment about coconut jugs, and then carries on rambling. He sure is a talker, and I mean nonstop he goes on and on about who knows what.
I have to be polite, right? I am not the jerk everyone has me pegged out to be. “So, how are you and the family doing?”
His shoulders slump, followed by a loud sigh. Oh, why the fuck did I have to ask that question? I eye the bartender—more fucking drinks, please! This talker is going to hold me hostage, and I’m no Dr. Phil.
“Okay, I guess. Nikki didn’t come tonight. We had an argument again. The whole point of coming to LA was to visit Charlie and to have a break for two weeks. But in typical Nikki fashion, she’s in denial of everything going on, and all we do is fight. Not even hot fighting followed with dirty sex,” he sulks.
“I’m sure it will work out. You’ve been married for a while. There’s always going to be bumps in the road.” There, simple and no more inviting questions.
Coconut man, where art thou!
“Bumps? Ha! More like mountains with a big pile of shit on top. It’s not like it’s all my fault, you know. It’s both of us. Instead of doing something about it, she’s decided to bury her head in the sand.”
“Okay, you’re kinda losing me here?”
Seriously, I need drinks ASAP, and the damn bartender is trying to pick up some cougar flashing her fake tits. I bang my fist on the bar, he turns around, and I believe I have caught his attention until he sways back around to talk to the cougar.
Rocky is still rambling on, unaware of my little outburst. “We’ve been trying to have a baby for a while now. It’s not happening. I want to see someone about it. Nikki thinks we don’t need to because we already have a son, so it’s bound to happen again. That was like ten years ago. Things change, bodies change. I joined this trying-for-a-baby group online, and I tell you, so many couples suffer from secondary infertility. It’s more common than you think.”
“I read an article about it once. It affects like one in five American couples,” I inform him.
“Yes! So, you know, right?”
Friday night at a beach party with sexy ladies in bikinis all around me, and I’m talking to a guy about secondary infertility. Life fucking blows right now. Why hasn’t that conga line come to save me yet?
I strain my eyes, trying to focus. “Just give her time to come around to the idea. Maybe you do need medical intervention.”
He chuckles loudly. “Have you met my wife? She’s as stubborn as two mules. Look, I’ll be honest with you, dude. It’s gotten to the point that she wants to fuck all the time, and for the first time in my life, it’s not fun. I know she wants to do it just to have a baby, but I never thought I’d say this to anyone… I feel used like she only wants me for my body.”
Okay, so I want to spit out my drink and burst out laughing. This is Rocky, after all. However, his crestfallen look tells me it’s far more serious and not a joking matter.
“Rocky. You’ll get through this. You need to communicate with each other. The families who were interviewed in that article said it tore their marriages apart. I can only imagine the stress it can add when, in theory, trying for a baby is supposed to be your happiest time. You’re both young, and I’m sure if you take a breather, it’ll work out.”
Who the fuck am I right now? From stalker to counselor?
Where are my drinks?
Rocky lets out a huge belch, and some ladies near us yell “Gross” and walk away. God, this isn’t helping me score at all. I’m going home alone. Alone and drunk as a skunk.
“See how pathetic I am? I’m here on a Friday night. The chick with the huge rack bounced her coconuts past me, and did I even salute her Rocky-style?” He shakes his head, disappointed in himself.
“Maybe you should head home, you know, be with your wife.”
How much I envy what he has.
“I would, but she and Charlie went out somewhere to watch a show or something.”
And there’s that name again.
Rocky must have noticed my body language. “Oh, dude, sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” I play it off.
“For bringing up Charlie. Don’t know if I should have. You’re probably over her, right? I mean you must be screwing babes like there’s no tomorrow.”
I smirk while raising the coconut to my lips and finish the drink in one sitting.
