25 - Peyton
PEYTON
“Alright, go on then. Let’s hear it.”
Ripley leaned back into his rattan chair, the dry, woven reeds crackling noisily beneath his weight. He looked happy, but tired. We all did, really. Right now though, none of us were willing to go to bed.
“Fine,” I relented. “Worst guy I ever dated?”
“Yup.”
“Worst as in, sucks in bed?” I chuckled. “Acts like a child? General, basic assholery? I mean we have a lot of categories to choose from, here.”
“We want to hear something utterly ridiculous,” Ripley pressed. “Preferably, over the top nuts. Right?”
He elbowed Colson, standing nearby, staring out three windows at once. He only broke his vigilance for a split-second. Just enough to nod.
“Alright, let’s see…” I bit my lip. “Oh, okay. There was this one guy I went out with who had a full back tattoo. Ribcage to ribcage. Head to crack.”
Colson and Ripley exchanged amused glances.
“So what? That’s not so bad.”
“Of himself,” I added.
“Oh.”
“Dressed as a gladiator.”
Their eyes went wide. “Seriously?”
“If I remember it right, he was holding a sword, and beheading an enemy. And then holding the head up with his free hand.”
“Yikes.”
It was late, and dark, and the air was palpably still. There wasn’t even an ocean breeze to cool us off as we waited, patiently, for Theo to finish his all-important job.
“And what about the two of you?” I pressed. “Your turn. Let’s hear some girlfriend horror stories.”
“Oh man,” Ripley swore. “Where do I start?”
“The beginning would be nice.”
He squinted. “You mean the first girl who ever—”
“No, no,” I cut him off. “I mean, you could talk about her if you wanted to. But it could be anyone you went out with.”
He interlaced his fingers behind his head, arms flexing as he exposed even more tattooed muscle. His eyes unfocused, as he thought back though his dating history — or lack, thereof. For some reason, I got the distinct impression it was the latter.
“Last girl I dated, her lock screen was a picture of herself.”
I chuckled. “That’s a bit of a red flag, I guess.”
“I thought so too,” Ripley muttered, “but I dated her anyway. She took dozens of photos, everywhere we went. Almost all of them were of her making duck lips, and a ‘V’ with her fingers.”
“Who were the photos for?”
“Fuck if I know,” Ripley shrugged. “You’re a woman. You tell me.”
“Sorry,” I shrugged playfully. “Girl code. Selfie stuff is serious. That information is top secret.”
Ripley let out a long sigh, and shook his head. “Whatever.”
A wave crashed outside, louder than the others. I saw Colson tense up for a moment, then relax. We’d been painstakingly careful not to be followed, on the way back from town. But he wasn’t taking any chances.
“And what about you?” I asked him.
He included me in his scan for a moment, just long enough to shrug.
“I haven’t dated much lately,” he murmured.
“Alright then, what about not-so-lately?”
Colson uncrossed his arms for a moment, and placed them on his hips. When he looked up at the ceiling, I could see the wheels in his head actually turning.
“Alright, there was this one girl who made me give her forty dollars on our first date.”
My eyes went wide as saucers. “Forty dollars! What the hell for?”
“I know what for,” Ripley grunted.
I waved him off, urging Colson to finish. “Insurance,” he eventually answered. “She told me she’d dated a lot of losers, but wanted to make sure I wasn’t wasting her time. If I was, she was keeping the money. If things went well, she’d give it back to me at the end of the date.”
“And did things go well?”
“Well enough,” he smirked. “I ended up making my forty dollars back.”
I couldn’t believe it. I shook my head.
“Why do guys even entertain stupid shit like that?”
“Because she was hot,” Ripley theorized, matter-of-factly.
We both turned to look at Colson. He nodded, sheepishly.
“He’s right. She was.”
I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Men.”
They shrugged, together. Guilty as charged.
“Alright,” I ceded. “I’ll give it to you; that was a weird first date. Not as weird as some of mine, but—”
“Oh come on,” Ripley prodded. “What could be weirder than putting down a deposit before your date even gets in your car?”
“Do you really want to know?”
Both men nodded in unison. Suddenly, I had their full attention.
“Look, you can’t win this one,” I smiled. “When it comes to dating, men are much weirder than women.”
“Or…” Ripley offered, adding a grin, “have you ever considered that maybe you’re just a magnet for weirdness?”
“Considering present company?” I paused, and wagged a finger at them both. “I suppose that’s always a possibility.”
“Alright then,” Ripley chuckled. “Let’s hear it.”
Steepling my fingers together like a good storyteller, I folded my legs into the couch and scanned my own personal database.
“Alright, this one guy stopped and brought me medicine on our first date because I told him I didn’t feel well. I thought it was sweet of him, until he charged me nine dollars.”
Colson laughed. “Wow.”
“Yeah. Another guy said his car was in the shop, so I went to his house to pick him up. Middle of the date, his mom came into his room to clean it. He was twenty-five.”
Ripley snickered. “I’ll bet he didn’t have a car, either. Did he?”
“Nope. He sure didn’t.”
I continued on, regaling them with my dating tales of woe.
I told them about the asshole who came into my house and yelled at my dog for barking, after having known me a grand total of thirty seconds.
The guy who used to put his used gum behind his ear, to chew it later on.
The guy who told me ‘men get periods, too,’ and that he was currently on one, so he needed to cancel our date because of cramps.
Then I broke out the big guns.
“But my weirdest first date,” I sighed heavily, “was the guy who wanted to take us out for enemas.”
Time ground to a halt. It was so quiet, even the ocean held its breath.
“Enemas,” Ripley repeated numbly.
“Yes.”
“As in…”
I nodded, grimly. “There was this wellness place. Self-care, and all that. They offered sound baths, and Reiki healing. Somatic release sessions. Past life regression. And of course… enemas.”
“Enemas…” Ripley still couldn’t believe it. “Well, shit.”
“Quite literally,” I chuckled.
Colson, so far, had held his tongue. He looked overly-amused, though, as he turned his attention back outside.
“So how’d you get out of that one?” asked Ripley.
I bit my tongue. I didn’t have to bite it long, however.
“She didn’t,” said Colson, plainly. “She went.”
Ripley’s head whipped around so fast it almost spun right off. “You did?”
“You’re damn right I did,” I smiled back at them. “We got first date enemas, together. And they were awesome, too. Way better than I ever thought they might be.”
Ripley swore under his breath. “Unfuckingreal.”
“Hey, when a guy offers to take you out for enemas? You don’t say no,” I chuckled. “You get in the car and buckle right the fuck up. And do you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because a guy that confident is always going to be interesting,” I grinned. “He’s the kind of guy who broadens your horizons, puts you on all new experiences. The type of date who’s never happy unless he’s showing you a good time.”
“Right up until the moment he gets so weird, you have to break up with him,” Colson ventured.
“Yes. True,” I nodded fervently. “But until that day comes, you’ll never be bored.”
I stood up, abruptly, and stretched my tired body. Fully aware of their hungry eyes.
“Now if you boys will excuse me, it’s been a long day. I’m tired, and I’m off to bed.”
Strutting away, I winked at them over my shoulder.
“But first, I’ve got an overactive mind to clear…”