Update

     “I’m trying to figure out,” said Marrianne, “why you aren’t going to call this woman again.”

     “What?”  I asked, leaning against the counter, wine glass in hand.

     “Why would you not want to call her back to hang out again?  She sounds like a perfect candidate for your cell phone check mark thing.”  She dismissively waved the spatula in the air.

     “It’s not me.  I would love to hang out with her again.  She’s age appropriate. She’s in fact 3 years OLDER.  I think her profile said she’s 50 or 51.  She’s a doctor, or she was when she lived in France.  Her kids are grown and out of the house and she’s hot as hell.  Do you know who Helen Mirren is?  She looks like her 20 years ago but French.”

     Marrianne shrugged her shoulders.  She and Kyle had started the divorce process.  Financially she was much better off than he was. The question was, does she pay him alimony?  This was not a question she was happy with answering so she was ignoring it, for now.

     I would stop by every two weeks to make sure she was ok.  Her world had become work, kids, and this house.  No time for dating.  Sometimes I would bring food.  Sometimes she would cook.

     “Here I’ll show you.”

     As I pulled out my phone to show her the pictures of how much my French Connection looked like Helen Mirren the phone went from 50% to 5% then immediately shut off.

     “Motherf....”

     “You installed the new update, didn’t you?” she asked tasting the sauce for the chicken fettuccine.  “You installed the new update on that old ass phone and it isn’t working, is it?”

     I saw her charger on the side of the kitchen island.

     “Well at least they didn’t change the chargers yet.  Do you mind?” I asked plugging in my phone.  A moment later and it was back on but only up to 10%.  I showed her the photos.

     “So what do you think?”  I asked Marrianne.

     “She’s really pretty.  And yes she does look like a taller, younger Helen Mirren.  I just don’t understand why you won’t call her.”

     “It’s not me.  She has a checklist that she’s working through.  There’s shit she never did before she got married that she is 100% going to do before she settles down again.  If she’s still interested in the future she might call me.

     “Hook up with a younger, black guy?  Check.”  I clicked a check mark off in the air. 

     She raised an eyebrow.

     “At least the update you gave her actually worked!” she looked at my phone, then poured the pasta and chicken into the Alfredo sauce.

Shorts

     “Dear God no I don’t wear shorts!” I said looking at her reflection while I critiqued myself in the mirror.  “I look like I have little brown toothpicks jammed between my ass cheeks and my shoes.  I’m like the guy who skipped leg day, ankle day, knee day, calf day, all that shit.”

     “So what do you wear to the beach?” she asked.

     “I really don’t go to the beach.  If anything I’ll go to the bar near the beach but mainly I avoid the beach.”

     “What about when you go running?” she said, rolling the blankets back.

     “That doesn’t count.”

     “What do you mean that doesn’t count?”

     “I see running as torture.  If I have to suffer through running everyone else also suffers by seeing my scrawny little chicken legs.

     “People on vacation, on the beach, or just out for a leisurely walk should not need to suffer these tiny calves.”

     “Well what are you going to do for your birthday?  Weren’t you going to go to the beach or something?

     “No,” I said shaking my head.  “I said I was going to drink shots of sex on the beach.  Completely different.

     “I may have even said I’m going to try to have sex on the beach but, trust me, like my tiny calves, nobody wants to see that.”

     There was a moment of first time hook up silence.

     “So next time, if there is a next time,” she said, with a coy smile.

     “I certainly hope there is a next time,” I said enthusiastically. 

     “This was fun.  I usually hate dating apps but this was worth it.”

     “Thank you,” I replied, realizing at the moment there wasn’t going to be a next time.

     “So, as I was saying, if there is a next time, it’s sex on the beach.  You can walk over to me with those scrawny calves and stir my drink with your toothpick.”  She slapped my ass as she headed for the bathroom.

     “By the way those calves aren’t as bad as you think,” she said turning on the shower.

     It was a good feeling to know these tiny calves hadn’t caused any suffering this evening.

Fracture

      “What I mean is,” I said over a sketchy at best video call, “once you hit a certain age you just don’t really make new friends.  Everybody steps away to do the life thing and the world fractures a bit.

     “I mean Stotler has two kids now.  I’ve seen him for a total of 20 minutes over the past eight years.  I still haven’t talked to Derich.  Riley is almost 6 months old.  Never met her.”

     “I know what you mean.” Said Karen with her second glass of wine smile.    “It could be worse.  I mean Tony and I had an amicable divorce.  We still talk and still do breakfast on Sundays when the kids are in town but I’ll be god damned.  People we’ve known our entire married lives were taking sides.”

     “Well, you two were like the poster kids for the perfect marriage for those who didn’t know what was going on.  The main reason most of them are so angry is probably because they’re miserable and want to get the fuck out but they don’t.  They just stay and smile for the public.  Bleh.  Fuck that.”

     “I know.  I know.  I thought my younger sister would be all about it.  I was hoping this would open the door for her.  She’s in HELL but she stays.  For god’s sake she sleeps in the kid’s room.” Karen rolled her eyes then took another sip of wine.

     “Why does she stay?”  I asked.  The sugarless herbal tea had a nice bite to it.  I didn’t mention anything about Marianne.  She hadn’t made her situation public yet and it wasn’t my place.

     “I. Don’t. Know.  Neither does she.  She doesn’t want to talk about it.  She just hopes everything will get better.”

     “Damn.  Maybe I’m not the only one who needs new friends,” I said finishing my tea.

     “From what Tony tells me you don’t need any new friends,” she said finishing her wine. “Maybe you can find some new friends in that phone of yours.  Five hundred contacts!  Dear God!”  She laughed a little to herself.

     “Seriously?  Ok how many contacts do you have in your phone?”  

     “38 and most of it is family and work.”

     “In my defense I’m not on twit/face/insta/space to keep up with people.”

     “I want another glass of wine but I don’t want to open another bottle.”

     “The struggle is real, Karen.  I know that pain.”

     “And don’t get me started on twit/face/insta.  When some people heard about the divorce a few of Tony’s friends, who will remain nameless reached out to make sure I was O.K.” She said making air quotes.  “That’s what I meant about taking sides.”  The video froze for a second then came back.

     “Really?”

     “Yeah, really. ‘If you need some company let me know.’ Assholes.  Hell, maybe I should be looking for new friends.”

     “I’ve asked if people need company.”

     “Yes but you didn’t immediately follow it up with a dick pic.”

     “Ah, ok.  Makes sense.”

     “You know if you’re really serious about new friends I hear Amber’s friend Tessa is really interested in hanging out.”  I could feel her laugh through the screen.  Her nose crinkled up and she actually snorted.

     “Tessa is so young,” I said shaking my head

     “Oh trust me I know,” she said laughing.  “I know.  And on that note I have to go.  I have zoom meetings all morning and if we keep talking I WILL open that bottle.”

     “Sleep well, buddy.”

     It was nice to see that you could step away to do life things and not have the world fracture.

Contacts

    “How many contacts do you have in your phone.” I asked, chilling out on the couch.

     “What?” Tony half asked putting the food on the coffee table.

     “I was just looking at all the people I have in my phone. I realized half the numbers or emails are wrong.”

     “Damn.  I don’t know.  I don’t even think about it.  I text Karen, Amber, you, and the kids.  That’s about it.  Everything else is work related and the work stuff is emails and extensions.  If I really had to guess I’d say about fifty.”

     “Oh,” I half said to myself.

     “Why?  How many do you have?”

     “Five or six ... hundred”

     “Really?  Why do you need five or six hundred contacts?” He asked almost choking on his nachos.

     “I’m trying to figure that out myself.  In my defense I asked one of the girls in my office how many contacts she had and it was somewhere near a thousand.”

     “One thousand contacts? Is she a drug dealer or something?” Tony asked, laughing.

     “I know, right?”

     “But five hundred,” he said finally sitting in his chair, “that’s a hell of a lot, too.”

     “Some of it’s old music contacts.  Some of it’s old hook ups.  I have to agree: five hundred is too many contacts.  I tried to narrow it down a few years ago.  Sent out a text that said: ‘Hi you might remember me from (wherever).  Cleaning up numbers in my phone.  Is this the phone of insert-name-here?  If not let me know and I will remove it.  Thank you.’ ”

     “How’d that work out?” he asked.

     “I think I sent out about 65 texts ...”

     “Jesus, 65?” he interrupted.

     “Remember the woman in my office said over thousand” I said, attempting to justify.  “I got about 35 replies.  Not horrible.”

     “Did you delete the others?”

     He could tell by my silence and cringe expression that the answer was no.

     “How about the old hook ups?  Did you delete them?”

     “You know, they were interested at one point.  I figured I would keep them just in case they ... ”  I realized my delusion as the words left my mouth.  “I don’t know.  Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

    “How do you know the hook ups?” He asked, pulling a long chain of cheese and chicken nachos off of the pile.

     “I put little check marks next to their names.”

     “A ranking system?”

     “No.”  My nacho chain was nothing to brag about.  “Just a fond reminder of who to remember.”

     “As long as that list isn’t five hundred people long you should be ok.”

     “You know, Tony, I’ve been single for a long time but I have to agree: the thought of five hundred hookups is too many for me.”