who did things the right way—and who were super hot by the way—but nothing that lasted more than two or three dates.”
“I’m sorry. That sucks. I’ve been there, trust me.”
“You? Come on, you’re beautiful.”
Now I love her even more. “Why thank you,” I say while jokingly tossing my hair over one shoulder. “But so are you. Guys are just stupid sometimes — you’ll find the right one.”
“You sound like my mom.”
“Mom’s right.”
“You’re sweet. I swear though, it’s just one loser after another. I think I’m the Bad (first?) Date Queen. I might need to contact Guinness to claim the world record.”
Lightbulb!
“What’s your blog about?” I ask.
“Oh. I usually blog about my life. My friends, places I’ve travelled, hating my job. That kind of thing. All different stuff.”
“Crazy idea—but have you ever thought of refocusing what you write about and telling some of these stories instead?”
“Stories like. . .”
“The one you told me the other day. Just tell those stories. I’m sure you have others, right?”
“Unfortunately, I have enough to fill a few volumes of books. So yeah, bad date queen right here.”
I don’t have a lot of talent, I never have. I get by on my personality and my work ethic. But one thing I’ve always had a real knack for is recognizing talent in other people. And this girl has a talent for telling stories and making me laugh—and it’s not easy to make me laugh.
“Just think about it. I know me, and I might be on to something here.”
“I will. I think it’s a great idea now that you say it. I’m going to have to think about that one.”
“But first, we do my episode of The Sexy Boyfriend Designer.”
She perks up when I mention the show. She’s really excited to get involved. So am I.
“So what are you gonna ask them?”
“Umm, excuse you, you mean what are you going to ask?”
“Me? Oh no, I can’t, I. . .”
“You sure can. And you will. Think of this as your baptism into something bigger.”
“Wow,” she says. “I’m honored. This might actually be really fun. Are there any limits to what we can ask?”
I cackle like a hyena. “Oh no, soul-sister. I mean, if you want to talk about butt stuff, I’m not going to say no.”
Shoshana
“I do not have a vagina surplus!”
Conor texted me a pic while I was shooting my latest vlog—a giant bottle of red wine and text that said “Fuck Dinner-let’s do this instead.”
I texted back “That’s an incredible idea.” But secretly, I’m wondering if he feels bad about what happened and wants to explain it all to me.
I’m on my way to his place now.
He answers the door looking like the dream he is. He’s got the slightest stubble on his face, and his hair is messier than I’m used to seeing it, but the casual sexy look suits him. “Damn, you look good Mr. Razor Be Damned.”
I get a smile, but it’s a little strained. I can see the stress all over his face. “I actually meant to shave. I meant to do a lot of things today but I got sidetracked with some issues.”
With the way he says the word ‘issues’ I already know what he’s referring to. “She-wolf drama?”
“You have no idea. Come in.”
“You sure?” I ask. “If you need more time to yourself to deal with things. . .”
“Shoshana, I’ve never used the expression ‘you’re a sight for sore eyes’ before, but I’m about to. The last thing I want after spending this afternoon on the phone with police and my lawyer, the only thing I want to do is hang out with you.”
“Don’t be such a little girl—whenever I spend my afternoon on the phone with lawyers and police I cook myself an omelette and do a full yoga class after. Cheer up.” I’m not making him laugh at all. He looks like he’s got a heavy weight pressing down on his shoulders.
“Sorry if I’m shit company right now.” He grabs that giant bottle of Cabernet from his counter and starts uncorking. “You want?”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, I’ve just always wanted to say that — seemed like it fit the situation.” He looks so confused. “Yes. Yes, I’ll have a glass, thanks.”
He pours us each an extra full glass of Cab. As we sit down on his couch, I start to feel guilty that I had such a great day. “If you don’t want to talk about it right now that’s fine too.”
“I owe you an explanation.