Do or Di

There comes a time in a woman’s life when she must acknowledge that her pursuit of Prince Charming has failed and that she is merely kissing frogs. I didn’t want to give up on the idea of fairy-tale romance; I’d merely accepted reality. However, my best friend Avita wasn’t ready to surrender on my behalf.

“There’s a guy who just started working with Darsh. He’s really cute.” She took her chai tea from the barista.

“No,” I said. Avita meant well, but I had to shut this down. Once she got a plan in place she was like a rabid military general. She didn’t surrender easily.

“You can’t say no, you haven’t met him yet.” She held up a perfectly manicured hand to stop my protest. “Besides, don’t think of it like a blind date. If I happen to have you over for dinner, and Darsh happens to invite over one of his single co-workers, then it’s just a lucky coincidence.”

I blew on my tea. “That’s not the kind of luck I need. You know I’d do just about anything for one of your dinners, but no more blind dates. I am declaring myself to be a blind date free zone.”

“You can’t give up. You never know when you’re going to meet the right guy.” Avita was like the kid who still believed in Santa and no matter how much you pointed out that it was awfully odd that Santa was able to be at all those malls at the same time; she would still cling to the fat guy in the suit. I can’t say that I blamed her. I like the idea of a gift-giving jolly elf as much as the next person.

“I have officially filled my quota of bad dates. I have the list to prove it,” I said. I held open the door for her so we could walk back to the office. I had other reasons for not wanting for her to try and fix me up, but there was no way I was going to get into with her.

“You’re not still doing that dwarf thing are you?”

“The last guy you hooked me up with, the one from your gym, slotted in nicely as Sneezy.”

“His name was David, and I’ll admit he was a bit focused on his health.”

It isn’t that I wanted to give up the idea of a fairy-tale romance; it’s just that rather than a prince, I could lay claim to having dated each of the seven dwarves:

Grumpy: Richard was a tortured artistic soul. He taught photography at the community college. It was difficult for Richard as no one understood him or appreciated his genius. Initially I found his dark, brooding moods sort of sexy, but I would later realize he was just cranky.

Doc: Keith worked in the finance district and came across as sort of the Clark Kent type in his glasses and button-down suits. I found his knowledge of arcane trivia sort of fun and quirky until I realized we could never have a conversation without him correcting my grammar or tossing in some bizarre fact like the annual rainfall in the Congo.

Bashful: Joel was so shy I had to ask
him
out. He blushed and stuttered any time someone spoke to him, including on voice mails. I kept hoping that once he grew comfortable we would fall into a relaxed relationship where he would open up his deep, sensitive soul to me. This never happened. He made me anxious. It was like dating a bomb squad guy who had palsy.

Happy: Kirk was my first younger man. At twenty-three he was annoyingly happy. I couldn’t tell if it was because the world hadn’t kicked him around enough or if he would always be this way. You would think being around someone with a positive attitude would be refreshing in today’s cynical world. However, one too many “Turn that smile upside down!” moments and I wanted to make him cry. This is not the basis for a lasting relationship.

Sleepy: Liam was a believer in not subjecting himself to the tyranny of “the man.” He found regular employment to be too restricting and kept him from reaching his “goals.” In the three months that we dated it appeared that the scope of his goals including sleeping until noon and laying on my couch scratching his balls while watching reruns of
America’s Next Top Model
.

Dopey: Carter was without a doubt the most attractive man I ever dated. He was Calvin-Klein-underwear-model handsome. He was so attractive I could
almost
overlook that I had stuffed animals smarter than him. Almost. We were out at a dinner and I was discussing euthanasia and my views on the meaning and value of life. When I asked him what he thought and he said he knew there were a lot of
youth in Asia,
I knew it was over.

Sneezy: David was Avita’s latest find for me. They went to the same gym. He had an amazing body, and for good reason. I would come to discover he spent his entire life focused on maintenance. David took every supplement available; there was a fine dusting of protein powder on everything he owned. It was like being around Mount St. Helens after it went off. He was the biggest hypochondriac I’d ever met. If he had as much as a sniffle he treated it as if his body had betrayed him. He stressed over food labels as if they contained military secrets. I couldn’t stand him wincing every time I put something in my mouth.

“David wasn’t focused on his health, he was obsessed. Do you remember the time we double dated with you guys and he wouldn’t let anyone have popcorn at the movie? He smuggled in his own organic granola for us. Tell me you haven’t forgotten. It was made with some kind of algae that was supposedly full of antioxidants.”

Avita snorted. “That stuff was pretty bad.”

We reached the radio station where we worked. Avita worked as producer. My job in sales was far less exciting. However, I had no intent in staying in it forever. If I couldn’t have love it seemed only fair I should have an amazing career.

“You excited for Darsh’s work event tonight?” I asked. Avita’s husband had just been promoted and she’d been counting down the days to a big swanky party.

“I was. Station management emailed first thing this morning. They want a break down on call numbers for the show. It means I’ll get there late.”

“Can’t the numbers wait a day?”

“Apparently not.” She tried to shrug off the disappointment. “Meet up for lunch?”

“Sure.”

“And just think about the dinner with Darsh’s co-worker. You never know,” she called over her shoulder.

* * *

People think working in radio must be glamorous, but I spend my days in a cubicle. The fabric walls are the same color as the lint you find in the dryer trap and just about as substantial. Every time I try to pin something to the wall, hunks of the fabric slough off like dead skin. My cube is exactly the same size as my closet at home. I know because I measured it. I told myself that it was just a matter of time until I moved up to an actual office, something with a door or a window. I’d been dreaming of hosting my own radio show as long as I could remember. As a kid I used to practice by talking into my hairbrush in my bedroom. I’d pitched Wayne, our station manager, a thousand ideas, but so far the closest I’d come to actual airtime was occasionally being allowed to do the traffic reports.

I was sitting at my desk half-heartedly filling in one of the advertising sales spreadsheets when Wayne, our station manager, went running past my cubicle. He stopped when he spotted me, his eyes wide and a bit crazed, like he had been main lining lattes all day.

“Do you still want to be on-air?” Wayne asked.

I didn’t know what finally made him notice the thousand of show ideas I’d been sending him for months, or the fact that I was alive at all, but I wasn’t about to waste this opportunity. I pulled the stacks of notes on my desk into order. “You bet, I’ve been looking at station demographics. I have several ideas to increase our female listeners with shows that target issues directly aimed at them. Women are interested in more than shoe-shopping and
People
magazine. I’m thinking we do a sharp current issues show focused on how women can make a difference locally and globally.”

Wayne looked at me as if I was speaking a foreign language and then grabbed me by the elbow before I could dig out my sheet on the educational levels of our listeners. “Interesting. Let’s walk and talk.” We jogged quickly down the hall with Wayne practically dragging me along.

“I sent you a list of possible show topics and experts we could have on a week or so ago, but I can pull it up again,” I offered.

“Sure. Sounds good. In the meantime I need you to do the show with Colin. His partner didn’t show up to do the program.”

I stopped short. “You want me to go on the air now? Like this instant?” I felt the blood rush out of my head with a giant swoosh.

“We’ve got a bit of a situation on our hands this afternoon. God only knows what Kevin took. He showed up high as a kite. Four times the guy’s been to rehab. He should get a frequent visitor discount. We’re on the air in less than five. All you need to do is follow Colin’s lead.” Wayne took another step toward the studio.

“I can’t do his show.” Colin Stewart was the top personality at KYTZ. He did a show with Kevin called the Male Men where they basically tried to out-pig each other on-air. The only reason I listened to it was because Avita was the producer.

“The show’s producer said you were up for this. Are you in or not?” Wayne looked down at his watch.

The Male Men show went against every ethical fiber in my body, but it was a chance at real on-air time. It’s remarkably easy to sell your soul when what you want is on the line. “Okay, I’m in.”

Wayne slapped me on the back hard enough that it almost threw me down onto the institutional gray carpet. “That’s my girl. Let’s get you hooked up.”

I followed him down the hall and into the studio. Avita gave me a thumbs-up through the glass window. I would owe her for getting me this chance. She knew how much I wanted to be on-air. I shot her a thumbs-up when Wayne wasn’t looking.

Colin was already seated at the board; his right eyebrow went up when he saw me. “You’re partnering me with someone from the sales department?”

My nostrils flared in annoyance, but Wayne cut me off before I could say anything. “Emma’s been helping in marketing, but she’s got a degree in broadcasting. She’ll do great.”

“It’s Erin,” I corrected him.

“Right.” Wayne rubbed his hands together. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“The show is the Male Men. We talk about stuff from the male perspective,” Colin said. “She’s a girl.”

“Woman,” I clarified.

“Enough. Keep that fire for the show. This is a one-time
he
-
said, she
-
said
show. We’re on the air in less than two minutes and unless someone has another option this is the way it’s going to work.” Wayne stared us both down and then stormed out of the sound booth.