A Year to Remember (16 page)

“You have no idea of how bad it is out there! I have had enough bad dates already this year to write a book on the subject. Did I tell you about the guy last week? The one I met through JDate? I knew he had been divorced since it said so in the profile, but the guy’s been divorced three times and he isn’t even forty yet! Or how about the one who reeked of cigarette smoke and just got out of rehab for a heroin addiction? Apparently, he’s seeking a wife to help him regain custody of his son. Or the one from the dating agency I spent two thousand dollars on? They promised me they had plenty of Jewish guys in their database, but clearly that wasn’t the case since they had to send the owner of the company on a date with me, all the while he’s telling me he’s in real estate. Like I didn’t Google him before our date? I’m going to have to sue them to get my money back. If it seems cruel to keep two honest, handsome, normal men on the hook for a while, you’ll have to forgive me. Because it doesn’t appear that there are any other good ones out there.”

I never raised my voice at Missy, but she had pushed me to my limit.

“Don’t you think if either Caleb or Ryan was the one, you’d know? You wouldn’t need to date anyone else or want to be with anyone else. You’d only want to be with him.”

“How would you know? I don’t see you in any long-term relationship,” I pointed out.

Missy’s face crumbled, but she kept her composure.

“Why can’t you decide between them?” It seemed like such a simple question, but unfortunately, it didn’t have a simple answer.

“Caleb is romantic and smart and compassionate. We visit art museums and the theater and debate politics and religion. He already knows and can tolerate my crazy family. But when I’m with him, I don’t have any urge to jump him, if you know what I mean. I enjoy kissing him. I don’t have any yearning to go any further with him. We don’t have a passionate relationship. It’s comfortable and easy, like I am with you, only with kissing. He stimulates my mind, but not my body.”

“Well, maybe, that’s because you haven’t done anything other than kiss. Maybe, if you made love, you’d find the passion you’ve been missing,” she advised.

Even though I had surpassed the four-date rule with each of them and I could technically have sex with them, I couldn’t sleep with two guys. I had limited our physical relations to kissing and heavy petting over the clothes only. This way, I didn’t feel like a slut.

“I haven’t made love with Ryan, but I want to. God, I want to. With him, it’s passionate and hot and sexy. Most dates we don’t say more than hello before we’re grinding on my couch. When we try and have a conversation, it doesn’t go very well. I know he has a degree in marketing and he’s bartending in between jobs, but he doesn’t seem to know a lot about the world. For example, I asked him his opinion of the United States’ lack of involvement in Darfur and he asked me why our country needed to meddle in the fur industry when it keeps people warm.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” She laughed and slapped her hand on the table.

I shook my head. “Honest to God. He’s not very bright. Caleb stimulates my mind and Ryan stimulates my you-know-what. I’m so horny after he leaves, I feel like I’m going to explode. It’s not an old wives’ tale by the way. Cold showers really do work.”

“What’s more important to you?”

That is the question isn’t it? If I could merge the two of them into one man, I’d have everything I’ve ever wanted. I want someone to challenge me, someone to comfort me, and someone to ignite all my passions, both physically and emotionally. If I want to get married by my thirtieth birthday, I had to choose between Caleb and Ryan soon.

“Caleb isn’t Jewish, either. I’m worried it eventually will become a problem.” I sighed.

“Decisions, decisions,” Missy teased.

“Why can’t you make the decision for me?”

“No one can make that decision except you. You know that.”

Of course she was right. I knew it intellectually.

“I’m not going to make any decisions tonight. Tonight we’re going to meet up with Jill and the girls and watch men shake their booties for us. Not your cup of tea I know, but you’ll still have a good time making fun of us putting dollar bills down the stripper’s pants, right?”

Jill had grown up in the same neighborhood as Missy and me. We went to school together from kindergarten through twelfth grade. We were never best friends with her, but we still hung out with the same crowd. The smart but not valedictorian smart, social but not popular, Jewish crowd. We had been to each other’s birthday parties, bat mitzvahs, and graduation parties. Now that she was getting married, Missy and I got invited to her wedding showers and her bachelorette party and of course, her wedding next weekend.

As of now, I hadn’t chosen a date for the wedding even though I had RSVP’d for it plus one. I couldn’t decide between Caleb and Ryan, but I was leaning toward Ryan because he’s a lot of fun, gorgeous, and Jewish, so I could show him off. I just had to make sure he didn’t talk to anyone.

Tonight, Jill’s close friends had arranged her bachelorette party at a strip club in Windsor, Canada, which was only a half hour away from our neighborhood.

Since we turned nineteen, we’d often crossed the border to partake of the lower drinking age, cheaper drinks, and the strip club that catered to heterosexual women. We used to visit the strip club all the time when we were younger. I hadn’t been back to it in eight years, but I had to admit, I hoped for a wild and crazy night. I needed to forget all of my problems. Maybe, my answer would come to me tonight, when I least expected it.

One thing I hadn’t counted on feeling at the strip club was old.

But I did.

For the first hour, we drank watered down long island ice tea and giggled over the various penises on display. The hotter the guy, the more muscles he flaunted, the bigger the shlong he possessed, the louder we’d hoot and holler. We saw the male appendages of practically every race, creed, and culture, both circumcised and uncircumcised. It was obviously an equal opportunity establishment.

I hadn’t had so much fun in ages.

Then, feeling bad for their single friend, my horny cohorts ordered me a lap dance. He came to the table dressed as a marine, reminiscent of Richard Gere from
An Officer and a Gentleman.

Uncomfortable, I babbled incessantly as he led me to the private backroom. I did not feel like Debra Winger. I felt sort of creepy, especially as my babbling led me to ask him his age and I discovered he was only nineteen. I could have been his babysitter.

I sat completely still as I watched him gyrate and thrust his hips in a feeble attempt to simulate sex. I didn’t know the proper etiquette of private lap dances. Should I watch him hungrily as though he turned me on? Should I watch with detached indifference? What should I do with my hands? Did he expect to be groped, or was that against the rules? I chose detached indifference, pretending to be watching a clinical demonstration of exotic dancing, which is how it actually felt.

I almost stopped to lecture him on the degradation of stripping, but I held my tongue. After all, how could I lecture him when I’d spent twenty dollars for the privilege of admission? Then, my friends spent another forty dollars on the lap dance, not including the tip I’d have to give him. Let’s face it, if he’s stripping, he must need the money pretty desperately. Otherwise, why would anyone take their clothes off for money?

When he completed his dance, I thanked him and realized my face had grown hot despite trying to stay disinterested. I started to think that if a nineteen-year-old boy could get me hot, then I definitely needed to get laid sooner than later.

Even though I really liked Caleb, I fantasized about having raunchy and erotic sex with Ryan. Despite what I had said to Missy, the cold showers didn’t always work. Sometimes, I had to bring myself to orgasm to get some sleep after being with Ryan. My fantasy always started the same. He’d tell me he just had to taste me and not give me a chance to say no before removing my jeans and panties and going down on me. I think I always included the part about him not allowing me to protest, so I wouldn’t feel guilty about not fantasizing about Caleb.

Maybe I had come to a decision.

Here, in a strip club.

Or, maybe not.

An hour after my lap dance, one of the strippers brought Jill onto the stage to serenade her. He placed her in a chair, put a veil on her head, and handed her a bouquet of flowers similar to the one Ryan brought on our first date. I was sure it was just a coincidence. After all, I know practically zilch about flowers. If I touch a flower, it dies within twenty-four hours. Still, something about those flowers nagged at me until an anticipatory dread seeped into my bones and I started to feel a little bit nauseous.

The one stripper welcomed the rest of the performers to join him on the stage to sing and dance for Jill. The men danced out onto the stage wearing nothing but their smiles as they surrounded Jill, and the women in the club went crazy. I must be going crazy, too, because I could have sworn one of those men was my Ryan.

Bartender, my ass!

No wonder he always paid in cash!

My face must have given my shock away because Missy mouthed the word “what?” to me. I couldn’t talk. I just shook my head back and forth in denial. She followed my gaze and, sure enough, recognized Ryan, too. At least she confirmed I wasn’t going insane.

She gave him a once over. “No wonder you can’t keep your hands off of him! I’m gay, but man, what a body!” she yelled.

Luckily, it was so loud in the club our friends didn’t hear her comment. I didn’t want my friends to know I was dating a stripper. Especially since I didn’t know I was dating a stripper until two minutes ago.

At first, I felt betrayed by his omission to tell me about his job. After all, I was the one who believed that your job doesn’t define you. He should have trusted me, rather than assume I wouldn’t date him if I found out he was a stripper.

Then I realized he was right, because I never would have continued to date him once he’d told me the truth. When was he going to tell me? After we decided to date exclusively? Engaged? Married? Or was he going to hope I never discovered how he made his money?

I ran off to the bathroom and threw up in the toilet. Missy followed me and held my hair back to avoid getting it soiled. After I rinsed out my mouth with some water and sprayed some Binaca in it, Missy gave me a hug and I cried.

“I’m sorry, hon.”

“At least I don’t have to make the decision anymore.” I laughed, then started hiccupping.

“Do you want to leave? I can go get your coat and meet you out front if you want,” she suggested.

No, I didn’t want to leave just yet. I needed to talk to Ryan first, and I knew just the way to do it.

Ryan arrived at our table ten minutes later, oblivious to my presence. He dressed as a gentleman in a classic black tuxedo.

How ironic.

“I was told one of you lovely ladies has requested a private dance,” he stated in an English accent.

“I did.”

His shoulders stiffened when he recognized my voice coming from behind him. He spun around and I saw the hurt in his eyes. For a moment, I regretted my actions, but when he resumed his role as the English gentleman, I continued with my plan.

Jill and her friends watched our awkward exchange, oblivious to the circumstances unfolding before their eyes.

“Wow, Sara, you must have really enjoyed that first lap dance if you ordered another one for yourself! Go for it!” said Lenore, one of Jill’s friends.

“You’re the only one of us who doesn’t have anyone to answer to. You might as well enjoy yourself while you can!” advised another one of Jill’s friends.

“Sara, is it?” Ryan asked as he took my hand. “Follow me.”

He led to me to a different private room. The moment we were alone, he began to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Sara. I didn’t want to lie to you.”

“Then why did you?”

“I didn’t think you’d go out with me if you knew I was a stripper. It’s only temporary while I try and get another accounting job. You know how bad the economy has been in Detroit. I hoped once I got another job, I’d quit stripping and you’d never need to know.”