“Being open-minded in no way suggests I’m easy, into orgies, happy to pay all the bills, or that I encourage butthole fixations. Open-minded is good. It means I’m tolerant, and caring of my fellow man…”
Before I can finish my thought, Charley interrupts, “Oh, look. You just got another message.” Click, click. “It’s from a woman who read your profile. That’s weird.” Then my young friend starts laughing. “She thinks you might be her soulmate.”
“I’m not gay!” Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m just not looking for women.
“You want me to remove ‘open-minded’ now?”
“Please,” I tell her, wondering if people really think open-minded is an invitation to, well, everything.
After Charley leaves, I make myself pretty for my date with Ben. I curl my hair in beach waves which causes me to fantasize about how much fun we’d have on a tropical vacation. Then I put on my best red lipstick, Russian Red, and dream about all the places I can leave my mark on him.
By the time I get into a cab and head uptown, I’m not sure I want to bother with dinner. I’d much rather take a tour of my new boyfriend’s bedroom, living room, kitchen counter …
It isn’t until I get to Ben’s building near the Columbia campus that I realize I forgot Mr. Spock’s treats. I hurry to a deli a few buildings away hoping to find something suitable. On the advice of the woman behind the counter, I buy a can of Cheez Whiz. According to her, cats can’t get enough of the stuff. It isn’t until I’m back on the street that I wonder how I’m going to surreptitiously pull out a can of processed cheese and offer it to Mr. Spock without Ben noticing.
Ben is standing in front of his building when I get there, looking around. “Lose something?” I call out when I’m about ten feet away.
He runs toward me. “I saw you get out of the cab and walk down the street. I was afraid you were lost.”
“You were looking out the window for me? That’s pretty cute.” I take a step toward him. Then I reach up and leave the first of what I’m sure will be many lipstick prints on his person.
When we pull apart, he says, “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” I practically purr. “Now let’s go inside so we don’t get arrested for indecent exposure.” His look of confusion prompts me to add, “I want to see you in less clothing.”
Grabbing my hand, Ben practically pulls me into his building. It’s not quite as impressive as my loft, but it has some solid pre-war charm. By the time we get off the elevator, I’m already working on the buttons of his shirt. I’m in such a fog of need that I don’t even look at his apartment until a ball of fur launches itself across the room and lands on Ben’s head.
“Hey there, Mr. Spock,” he greets the orange and brown cannonball. “I want you to meet Serafina.”
Mr. Spock eyes me with what I can only interpret as scorn. I don’t make any false moves, and instead I whisper, “Mr. Spock, it’s a pleasure.” I heard somewhere that you shouldn’t talk loudly when you first meet an animal. That could be utter nonsense, but so far Mr. Spock hasn’t hissed at me, so…
“Why don’t you go sit on the couch and hang with Spock while I open a bottle of wine,” Ben suggests.
I reach into my purse to assure myself that the Cheez Whiz is still there. Then I walk across the small living space with a tabby on my heels. These pre-WWII buildings are not open concept, so I can’t see Ben in the kitchen. This allows me to pop the top off Mr. Spock’s treat and spray a small amount on my finger. He attacks it like I go at a hot fudge sundae. Nice.
I spray several more dollops until he’s perched on my lap and purring like I’m his favorite person in this world. Ben walks in and whistles, “Wow, look at you two. Fast friends already.”
“Cats appreciate my innate balance,” I tell him. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Ben sits down next to me and hands me a glass of wine. He raises it in the air and toasts, “To the perfection of the Libra woman.” My insides turn into molten lava. While I know he doesn’t believe in the zodiac, I still find it endearing that he no longer seems antagonized by it.
After we toast and sip, he leans over to kiss me. Just as our lips touch, we’re enveloped by a stench so intense I immediately start to gag. Ben leans back and looks at me with an alarmed expression. “Are you okay?”
He thinks I did this? “Are you?” I counter.
We both look down at Mr. Spock. “Spock, was that you?” Ben demands. The cat lies down on my lap and rolls over before releasing more noxious fumes.
“Does he do that often?” I ask in total horror.
“Only when he has milk products. Much like your grandfather, he’s lactose intolerant.”
Holy. Crap. I’ve just fed this little feline a good half-cup of Cheez Whiz and he’s lactose intolerant? This cannot end well.
As I’m about to confess my crime, Mr. Spock jumps off my lap and makes a run for what I’m assuming is the bathroom (or wherever people have their litter boxes set up). Ben says, “I better go check on him.” I know he doesn’t make it when Ben yells out, “No, Spock, not on the rug.”
“Do you need some help?” I call, hoping against hope Ben turns down my offer.
“No! I mean, no, thank you, this is not how I want you to see my little guy here.” If he only knew I was the responsible party…
I reach over and grab my wine glass when Ben’s phone starts pinging away. Just to be clear, I’m not a snoop. I firmly believe that all people have a right to privacy, but on the sixth ping, I start to think there might be an emergency, so I pick up the phone and take a peek.
Gwen: Hey, Ben, I just got off the phone with my aunt and she can’t wait to meet you.
* * *
Gwen: She says that it’s about time I found myself a good man. -smiley face-
* * *
Gwen: We’re going to have so much fun at the engagement party this weekend.
* * *
Gwen: Be warned though, my family is going to want to know when our big day is. -laughing face- What do you think, would a winter wedding work for you?
* * *
Gwen: …
What in the fresh hell is going on here? Is Ben seeing someone else? What kind of question is that? Of course, he’s seeing someone, and apparently her name is Gwen and she’s planning their wedding.
Oh. My. God. Ben is a cheater. And he’s cheating with me! Which makes me the other woman. No way am I on board for that. This upsets my delicate balance to the point where I want to scream. But instead of alerting him, I simply pick up my purse and storm to the front door.
Before I can leave, I walk back to the coffee table, pull out the Cheez Whiz and spray it all over. That’ll show him not to mess with me. I really want to slam the door as I leave but I don’t want Ben running after me. I don’t need a major scene at the moment. I just need to go home and have a great big, fat cry.