Jesus, I have a problem.
My boner isn’t at all affected by any of this. He’s still raging down there. It’s party central in my pants. “The one thing everyone in high school talked about more than anything else was the state of people’s virginity. It’s ingrained in our culture to care about it.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
“You auctioned yours off and couldn’t follow through with it. You care. You thought you didn’t, but you did.”
She goes silent.
I pound the button on my stereo to switch stations, because now Whitney Houston is singing, and I don’t mind Whitney Houston, but I’m not feeling like dancing with anyone right now, and it’s annoying me.
Pearl Jam.
Better.
I tap my thumb on the steering wheel, feel every beat in my boner, and concentrate on the traffic around me as we fly down the highway.
Until Muffy mutters a very soft sentence a few miles later. “So what if I was?”
And here I thought I couldn’t possibly get any harder.
Why. The fuck. Is my dick. Obsessed. With Muffy?
Because we like her. Catch up.
“Do-over,” I say before I can stop myself. “Thursday—no, out of town. Saturday. Saturday night. You. Me. Dinner. Do-over.”
“That’s very kind of you, but—”
“It’s not kind of me. I have something to prove here.”
“So you want to have sex with me just to prove that you’re good at sex.”
“Yes.”
“And it has nothing at all to do with you liking me or being attracted to me or wanting to see if having sex with me, again, after being my date to a funeral, with a whole lot more baggage than I expected showing up and making things hella awkward for both of us, might demonstrate that there’s something between us?”
This is exactly why I’m never getting married.
Mind games.
Traps.
Or possibly she has a point and I don’t want to admit it.
Am I afraid of commitment? Is she right?
Or is it really that my sisters soured me on living with women forever?
And possibly one or two girlfriends in high school and college who got way too close, then dropped me like a puck that sprouted spikes in their hands?
My first girlfriend dumped me because things got super awkward when I introduced her to my family before our date to my junior year homecoming game.
My second girlfriend didn’t so much dump me as she listened to her brother when he forbade her to ever look at me again, and then he tried to beat the shit out of me before practice.
Related: It astonishes me every day that Nick Murphy’s sister is married to Ares Berger and the team didn’t implode when they hooked up.
And I don’t date seriously anymore.
Just not worth it when I know the ultimate payoff to relationships.
“I want you to know it can be good,” I tell Muffy. And I need to see a doctor. My dick really isn’t supposed to strain like this.
Plus, Muffy’s looking at it. I hid it at the cemetery. I’ve been doing my best to block her view with my arm. But there’s no hiding Junior. He’s being an exhibitionist.
“So your own needs have nothing to do with this?” Muffy asks.
“I could hook up with any woman I wanted. So, no. My own needs have nothing to do with this.”
She snorts softly and goes silent.
And a text message thread with my family plays out in my head.
Who needs actual messages when I know what they’d say?
Keely: Smooth, idiot. Tell her how many other women you want to bang.
Allie: Maybe you can tell her how many other women you’re bringing home for Thanksgiving too?
Britney: Women love a man who brags about how hot he is and how many women he can get. Serious turn-on. Maybe you should tell her you’re smarter than the average hockey player too.
Dad: Tyler is never getting laid again. Whoa! Autocorrect got this one right!
Keely: I’m pulling Staci in, and you KNOW she doesn’t do group texts.
Staci: I’m only here to reiterate that you need to plug your mouth back in to your brain, muzzle yourself for the next millennium, and hope that the gossip rags don’t hear about this.
Daisy: Go easy on Tyler. It’s hard (heh) to be a guy with a broken penis and then realize the only person he can get it up for is the only person he not only fails to impress every time, but also actively pushes away every time.
Keely: Fear of commitment.
Allie: Well, duh. He takes us for granted and he knows it.
Brit: Any other woman definitely wouldn’t put up with him the way we do.
Staci: And they don’t have to love him like we do, and they definitely won’t love him when he gets old and retires from hockey and has a monumental identity crisis.
Dad: He has redeeming qualities. Like his beard. He gets that from me.
Daisy: Also, he has to compete with West, who’s basically perfect, and he has nothing going for him other than his hockey career, if he can manage to stay pro and not get demoted back to the minors.
Muffy rustles next to me.
I cut a glance toward her and see her pulling a pack of Oreos out of her purse. She starts to open them, notices me watching, and shoves them back in her purse.
My jaw clenches on its own, and my grip tightens on the steering wheel.
Is it any of my business if she’s self-conscious?
No.
But do I want to fix it anyway?
Yes.
That’s not normal.
I have a problem.
And it’s bigger than my boner.
21
Muffy
I’m trying very hard to not look at Tyler’s erection and instead concentrate on what I need to do when we get back to Copper Valley.
Namely, shower quickly and manage my time very well for two appointments I have back-to-back early this evening that I booked myself as we’re heading out of Richmond.
The funeral’s over. Time to think ahead. Get back to business. Make a few more matches. Get a few more referrals. Set reminders to check in on Veda every day this week, and schedule lunch with her one weekend soon.
Find out why my mother thought she needed to charge my credit card for her boudoir photo session, thus maxing it out, and figure out how I’m going to pay Tyler back for gas money and the hotel bill.
Ponder why Tyler would’ve made a joke about his penis not working if it’s clearly working fine.
Although, is that actually his penis? That’s a long erection.
Long-lasting, I mean. But yes, also long-long. Lengthwise.
Is it hot in here? Someone needs to turn the heater down.
Like he’s reading my mind, he reaches for the control and yanks it down. “Why don’t you date?”
I flinch. I hate when the tables are turned. “Trust issues.”
“That’s a reason to not get married. Not a reason not to date.”
“I get to have whatever reason I want to not date.”
“I dare you to go on a date with me.”
“Been there—”