I’m on the phone with my best gal pal, Slutty Mandy, catching up on the events of the weekend. Mandy’s been out a few times with a slightly older guy. I mean, not AARP or anything, but a little above the age group with whom we tend to socialize. There’s logic to this, really. She hasn’t had much luck with guys in the late twenties-early thirties range, so she’s just leapfrogging over them and trying the next level.“My date went surprisingly well. Spent the day on his boat…”
“He has a boat? That’s good. Means he pays his bills.”
“How so?”
“Because,” I explain. “If the bank starts taking things away, the first thing to go is always the boat. So if he’s managed to hang on to that, there’s probably a good credit rating on this one.”
As years pass, different things make a man appealing. Ten years ago, it was abs and access to a reliable dealer. Now it’s steady employment and a solid FICO rating. Although I suppose the abs and reliable dealer would still be welcomed. They’re just no longer deal-breakers.
“So,” I say. “When do I get to meet this fella? I could make dinner. I’m a housewife now, I do that sort of thing. I also do crafts now. Do you need an afghan?”
“I don’t need an afghan in July.”
“Well, I’m really bad at it, so it probably wouldn’t be ready ‘til around President’s Day. Now, seriously, when do I get to see this guy?”
“Um… you don’t get to meet him yet.”
“Why not? What are you hiding? What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing is wrong with him, sweetness. I’m just not quite ready to put him in front of the Topher Payne Firing Squad. I wanna try this out a little bit longer before you show up and openly judge him.”
“I do NOT do that!”
I totally do that. Here’s thing: I am very protective of my friends. They’re quality people with much to offer the world. I also know that when people get into new relationships, they tend to completely ignore their friends for a lengthy stretch while they’re flush with dewy romantic encounters. Anyone who says they don’t do that is a damn liar. We all do it. I did it. Some of my friends claim I’m still doing it.
My point is, if you’re going to take this quality person with much to offer out of my daily life for a while and keep them all to yourself, I have the right to evaluate whether they are worthy of such an honor. And if they are not, am I not duty-bound to report my findings? What sort of friend would I be if I didn’t point out that the person my best friend is dating drinks entirely too much, or wears pleated pants, or has no chin?
And don’t think that I’m some shrieking harpy here. They all did it to me back before I met Preppy. When I was roommates with George, he would actually reject men on the doorstep. The unlucky suitor would arrive for our date, George would open the door, and make a guttural sound of disgust. Mandy would play it with slightly less subtlety, settling in with a glass of scotch and tilting her head in mock-interest. With careful precision, she would pick my boyfriends apart, leaving them lying in a heap on the floor before announcing they weren’t clever enough to run with me or my crowd. Preppy managed to disarm them all through a method no one had tried previously: He found them all hilarious. Their posturing and interrogation left him amused beyond words.
Which, incidentally, is one of the reasons I like them too.
“All right,” I say to Mandy. “You have your clandestine affair. Keep him to yourself for now. But eventually he’s gonna have to face the tribunal. You can’t hide him forever.”
“I know that,” she sighs. “But for now, let me believe I can.”
“Fair enough,” I say, already preparing my list of questions for the man who dares to win the heart of my best girl.
“All right,” I say to Mandy. “You have your clandestine affair. Keep him to yourself for now. But eventually he’s gonna have to face the tribunal. You can’t hide him forever.”
“I know that,” she sighs. “But for now, let me believe I can.”
“Fair enough,” I say, already preparing my list of questions for the man who dares to win the heart of my best girl.
