The BACHELORETTE Project (The Project: LESLEE Series) (28 page)

"Because Xavier is interested in me," Annie says and I can just feel my mouth drop. 

"What?” I’m so confused at this point. “He's interested in you?" I ask as if she didn't just say that. Did she just say that? All the nights that I spent
at home talking to him and
now
he’s
interested in Annie? Why doesn't this add up to me? "But, how ..." My voice just trails off.

"Well, after you left, we had a few drinks, a nice dinner, and just talked all night," she tells me. “He’s a really nice guy, and I wanted to know if you would mind if I went on a date with him?" How do I even feel about this? How do I even answer this question? This just became one of the most fucked up moments in dating history. How did I let this happen? Oh, yes, I know how this happened: wing-woman.

I sigh. "Well, I don't know if—"

"He said that you two were just friends and that there wouldn't be any hard feelings," she interrupts me—rudely interrupts me. And what she’s telling me is almost funny to me because I didn't know that's how he felt. I know that it's the Internet and all, but if I knew that there definitely wouldn't be anything between us, I wouldn't have wasted my time with him and I would've stopped talking to him altogether. I wasn't talking to him for Annie's sake. I was talking to him for me! "We really have a lot in common it turns out. We like the same music, the same movies,” Annie says. “He loves kids. When I told him about Brianna, he wanted to meet her right away." I half smile. To be honest, I'm kinda shocked at this point. This situation, quite frankly, is a little twisted. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. I just wanted Annie's opinion of him, not to plan dates with him and have extended conversation with him. The wing-woman plan went totally out the window.

Annie waits for an answer from me and I just sit there with a confused look on my face. The question that I have to ask myself now is would I be OK if these two went out? I mean, I'm not in
love
with Xavier. I'm in
like
of him. He made me laugh. I am interested in him, but no so much anymore, especially since he blatantly told Annie that he and I are just friends and nothing more.

I rise from the kitchen table and begin to leave. I can hear Annie following after me. “Leslee, are you mad at me?” she asks. Could I be mad at her? I mean, I’m the one that thought of the semi-genius wing-woman plan. I just didn’t see something like this happening, or maybe subconsciously I wanted it to happen? Ah, I just don’t know!

I turn around and face Annie. “I’m not mad at you, Annie,” I tell her. “I just don’t know what to think right now.” I sigh and shake my head. “I’ll give you a call later.” I walk out her front door
without looking back at her
.

So I can safely say that
The BACHELORETTE Project
has turned into a complete bust, and I can also say that Internet dating can work great for some and not so great for others. Instead of leaving butterflies in my stomach from that wonderful feeling of love, I feel pits in my stomach … no,
boulders
in my stomach just tumbling around like a vicious earthquake working their way up to crush my stupid heart. Lesson of the day: Plenty of Fish = Plenty of Douchebags. Some would rather date you, and others would prefer your best friend instead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The lavender is better,” I hear Karen say from the kitchen as I walk into the house.
Oh, God!
I think to myself.
Wedding talk.
First, I get to deal with the whole Xavier thing, and now I come home to yet another dreadful wedding discussion. Can I jump off the Ben Franklin Bridge right now, or should I wait until my life gets a little bit suckier?

“Which one is the lavender?” Russ asks and I hear Karen groan.

“You’re kidding, right?” she asks snidely as I walk into the kitchen. I act as if I’m ignoring their conversation as I grab a wine cooler out of the fridge. Their conversation may actually become intense.
Maybe I should reach for the Jack Daniels bottle …

“Lavender and eggplant are not the same thing,” Karen says through clenched teeth. “It’s obvious that they are two totally different shades of purple! Aren’t you educated? Don’t you know anything?” She picks up two pieces of fabric from the counter and dangles them in front of Russ’ face. He couldn’t look anymore annoyed.

“I know that I’m a guy,” Russ responds, “and guys don’t give a shit about this type of stuff.”

“But you should because this is our wedding,” Karen tells him. “The color choice determines what color the bridesmaids’ dresses are, the groomsmen’s ties and handkerchiefs, and the overall theme of the wedding. Don’t you care?”

“Purple is purple to me!” Russ shouts as he gets a beer out of the fridge. “You women always want to make things so technical with colors. Why can’t purple just be
purple
? Why can’t
purple
be great? Leave the color purple alone!”

“Oh, that’s it?! That’s your answer? Just leave purple alone? Who are you, Chris Crocker or something?” Karen stares down Russ as if she’s giving him the death glare.

“Karen, just pick what you want,” he tells her. “I don’t give a shit!” Russ throws his hands in the air and walks out of the kitchen.

“Fine!” she yells after him. “Just so you know, if my ankle wasn’t twisted, I’d be running after you
to finish this argument
!” Karen sighs then looks over at me. I shrug my shoulders. What am I supposed to say? Why am I so speechless today? Of course I know that there is a very distinctive difference between lavender and eggplant, but I’m not taking sides on this one. It would be like throwing a grenade onto a landmine, a severe explosion.

“I, um, thought you chose a color already,” I say trying to ease her tension.

“I thought I did, but then I was unsure,” Karen says tossing the fabric back onto the counter. “I just can’t tell which shade goes better with silver.”

“What kind of silver?”
Fuckkkkkk!
Why did I even ask that? Why the hell did I
say
anything?

I can see the little wheels in Karen’s head just churning away. A smile erupts onto her face. “You know what?” she asks me. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. Should I go with metallic silver or dusty silver?” I’m sorry. I know I’m a woman and I probably should know these things, but what in the world is dusty silver? Does it even make sense?
Play it safe, Leslee,
I think to myself. If I give the wrong answer, the consequences at the end will be a bitch.

“I say metallic silver,” I answer confidently. “It will give your wedding a certain edginess, and you should pair it with the eggplant.”

Karen begins to shake her head in agreement. “You know what, Les?” she asks me. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. Dusty silver and lavender it is.” OK, so it’s the complete opposite of what I said, but it’s her wedding. I’m beginning to think she purposefully goes against other people’s opinions as a
‘shits and giggles’
thing.

Karen passes me a wedding catalogue with bridesmaid’s dresses. She points to two different dresses. “Which one?” she asks me. I can play this game cleverly. I can either pick the overload frilly Southern Belle dress that’s enough to make me gag or I can choose the satin-like sleeveless dress with no frills and nothing crazy, just classic. If I pick the one that I don’t want, then it’s certain that she’ll pick the one that I do want, right? I sigh and take a chance.

“I love the frilly one,” I say lying through my teeth. “It has this elegant Southern Belle flair. You can even pair it with a hat or something.”
Gag, vomit, gag …

“I think I like the other one better so that’s what I’m going to go with,” she replies. Thank the heavens that Karen is stubborn as God knows what. Now I know how to work her. Just choose the opposite of what you want when it comes to wedding stuff. “So, where are you coming from this early in the morning?” she asks me.

“I went over to Annie’s,” I reply and sip on my wine cooler. Eleven-thirty in the morning may be too early for wine coolers, but with the luck I’ve had, I’m entitled to drink alcohol whenever I see fit, even if it is before lunchtime.

“How’d it go last night?” Karen asks. “You were so excited for your date.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘exciting,’” I reply and look away. I can feel Karen’s eyes on me just prying for more information. It’s something that I can’t ignore. I have to tell someone, even if Karen is a little biased against Annie. “The date situation sucks, okay?” I answer. “And if anyone is to blame, it’s you.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“You called me to rescue you from that treadmill of death!” I exclaim. “I had to leave to come and get you. I couldn’t even finish my date! I didn’t even have a Mojito!”

“Leslee, I’m sorry!” she yells back. “I tried calling my idiot fiancé but he wasn’t answering his phone. He went to the bar and couldn’t hear it ringing. I didn’t know it was a problem to call you because you’re my friend. We’ve known each other for years. You’ve only known that guy from the Internet for a month.” In actuality, I’m not angry or upset with Karen. I’m still upset with the situation and how it ended up.

“You’re right, Karen,” I say. “I’m sorry. I’m just upset because I left Annie on my date, and then today I find out that he’s interested in her, not me.”

“That dirty slut,” Karen says as she shakes her head. “I knew she was a floozy.”

“Yeah, well he told her that he and I are only friends and that he’s into her.”

“Didn’t he just meet her last night?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “But I guess they have more in common with each other than he and I do.”

“Man,” Karen starts, “you really do have bad luck when it comes to men ... and friends, well one friend in particular who happens to be a tramp. I don’t want to be the one to say it, but I told you she was shady. She stole your man from right up under you.”

“She didn’t steal him. He wasn’t mine.”

“Either way, she’s a tramp,” Karen says. “Are they going out?”

“Maybe,” I say but I’m sure I already know the answer. “Probably. I’m sure she’s interested in him.”

“Bitches be crazy,” Karen says shaking her head. “Bitches be crazy.”

“I just don’t understand this all!” I exclaim in frustration. “What am I doing wrong? How come I know nothing about men? How come I’m not in a nice, healthy, normal relationship?”

“Maybe you’re trying too hard?” she suggests.

“Why is it such a bad thing to put effort into finding love?”

“Because maybe it’s meant to find you instead,” Karen answers. “Look, I told you before that men are not complicated, and love shouldn’t be complicated either, that is until you find out that your future fiancé doesn’t know the difference between lavender and eggplant. But either way, if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. You’ll either unexpectedly find someone or they’ll find you and you’ll finally be happy.” Maybe Karen’s right. OK, she is right. I’ll admit that, but I’m 28 now. My youthful years are closing in on me fast. I want to be able to walk down the aisle at my own wedding without the use of a cane or a walker or orthopedic shoes. Is that really too much to ask?

“Stupid experiment,” I say under my breath. “All this dating and I know nothing about men and I know nothing about finding a mate.”

“Well, if you never get married, you can always stay with Russ and me,” Karen says as she pats my back. “We can have parties every night! Whoop, whoop!”

“Yeah,” I say unenthusiastically. “Whoop, whoop.”

“Life and love aren’t that bad,” Karen starts, “and once you learn that men are the lower species, you will be much happier.” She gets up from the table and grabs her crutch. “Right now, I’m going to limp after my future husband and pick a fight with him. Then later we’ll have makeup sex. It’s a vicious yet fulfilling cycle of love.” Karen leans on her crutch and practically hops out of the kitchen.

What’s a girl like me to do? This is just crazy to me. How is it that I don’t know
ANYTHING
about men? Is that just a part of my brain that I’ve shut down? Ahh!
Relax,
I think to myself.
It’s not you, it’s them.
I always wondered how it is that men complain that they never know what women want, but it’s the complete opposite. What to do, what to do …

I sigh. Maybe if I actually flat out ask a man what he wants, then I’ll find the answer to the secrets of all men. This makes sense, right? This totally makes sense. I grab my purse off of the counter and pull out my cell phone. In this situation, I know exactly what man to call. A man that won’t prejudge me, a man who’s brutally honest, and a man that is my friend and won’t look at me as an object of sexual lust.

I begin to dial the numbers on my phone. He picks up. “Hey, Eric?” I say. “It’s me, Leslee. I have some man questions for you and I think you can help me out …”

My love life: completely fucked up. The fact that my friend is actually dating someone that I was supposed to be dating is outrageous and completely ridiculous if you ask me. Here I invest months of my time into talking to this doofus thinking that he's somewhat interested in me and come to find out he'd rather be talking to my friend instead. Am I not in
teresting? Do I have a big sign
on my head that flashes and says, "DO NOT DATE THIS WOMAN?" I mean
,
what the hell? I think I'm losing some dignit
y and respect for myself here!
And really, what doe
s Annie have that I don't have?
Sure, she has a contagious laugh, a pretty smile, butt and thighs for days, but I have some junk in my trunk, too, and I'm smart, I'm pretty, so why am I by myself?