They say that just like assholes, everyone has an opinion. And just like assholes, most of those opinions usually stink. Well I’m pretty sure that this can be said of the opinions and “advice” of my married friends and relatives when it comes to discussing my love life, or lack thereof.
It was over a year ago when we both swiped right. Who could have ever known that an innocuous flick of the finger would end up having such an impact on my life. Our romance, if you want to call it that, took me by surprise, since you were not the type of guy that I usually went for. I should have known when I agreed to meet you on that cold, December Thursday night, against all of my better instincts, that I was going to be in trouble. You did everything right, selling me the story that I had been longing to hear – about your desires for something meaningful, and how you were a one woman type of guy. You pursued me hard out of the gate, but I admit it didn’t take much convincing. It was on our second date, when you ordered the tuna that I said looked good (which you hate) and then kissed me in the rain under our umbrellas when I felt the butterflies for the first time. Those damn butterflies – they would stay with me until long after I wished them away.
My best friend, Harry, is a sex addict. Or at least that was the story we were going with, up until a couple of months ago when he miraculously had a “come to Jesus” moment (or rather more like a “I think I’ll try to be a good boy for a little while, just to see how long I can stand it” moment) and decided to stop sleeping with anything with a vagina and a car. For a while there, his bedroom was a revolving door of women, sometimes too many for me to keep track of, all vying for Harry’s love and attention. There were times I wish I could have warned some of these poor ladies, since nobody knows what a futile task it is to try to win Harry’s heart more than I do, but being his “bestie” I could only listen, often laugh (sorry – terrible, I know), and attempt, unsuccessfully, to beat some sense into his thick head. The truth is, it wouldn’t have mattered what, if anything, I had said to any women in his life, because there is just something about Harry that can make even the most sensible woman lose her goddamn mind.