10
A few hours and one hot shower later, I come out of my bedroom in a green cotton dress. “Okay, first date outfit. What do you think?”
I put my hands on my hips, waiting for his review. The dress is knee-length and flowy, maybe a little much for the restaurant I’m going to, but I figure that’s okay. My hair is just straight and down, and I put on a little bit of makeup and gold earrings.
Andy puts down his cleaning supplies and gives me his full attention.
He scans the outfit from head to toe and back up again.
Having two female best friends, he’s been asked for outfit feedback before, though this one is taking him longer than usual to form an opinion.
I’m actually starting to worry by the time he says, “That’s a kind of fancy dress for a first date.”
“Andy! You’re supposed to say I look great and he’s going to love it. Is there something wrong with it? God… I don’t know what else I have. I’m going to FaceTime Lia.”
I spin on my heel to head back in the bedroom, but he stops me with a stuttered, “No I—I just mean, are you going somewhere fancy?”
“Well, not really.” I turn back to face him, leaning against my door frame. “But to be honest I really have to do laundry, and my other date night outfit idea was jeans, so that was an obvious no.”
“An obvious no,” he deadpans.
“You know, jeans are… logistically difficult.”
The quirk in his brow says he’s not following.
“I mean, if I don’t want to have sex then jeans are fine, because then I don’t have to worry about getting them off. But if I do want to have sex a dress is just easier. Not that I even know if he’ll want to, but if maybe he decides he does want to, then…”
I shrug. “Path of least resistance. Whatever—don’t look at me like that! Was that a weird thing to say? Am I making this weird?”
Andy tries to contort his face back into neutrality as he says, “Sorry, yeah, no, yeah, that makes sense.”
“Actually, speaking of which, I meant to ask…”
God, this is awkward—it’s so painfully awkward—but I have to do it because I have to be a courteous roommate and lordy, maybe this is why women shouldn’t room with men.
I look down at my dress as I ask, “What’s the apartment policy on bringing dates home?”
He doesn’t reply right away, so I dare a glance up.
And he looks alarmed. I rush to backpedal.
“I know that this is really your place and I’ve just been crashing, so if you’re not comfortable with me bringing someone back that’s totally fine. Really, I want you to be honest. It’s totally fine either way.”
“Oh, uh, no, it’s fine,” he stammers. “This—it’s your place too. You should, you know, treat it like home.”
“You’re sure?”
I’m staring at him intently now, but his features are schooled. No tick in his jaw or crease in his forehead to betray an unstated issue. He replies with a collected “I’m sure” and I have no choice but to take him at his word.
“Okay. Thanks.” I nod at him—and wow, even that is weird—then head back into my room to finish getting ready.
As I look around for my shoes and bag, I can hear the sounds of Andy opening the refrigerator, sifting through its contents, and pulling out ingredients.
A clink of bottles, the crinkle of a wrapper, a tap against the counter.
Then the low sound of his voice, asking, “So… you’re gonna have sex with this guy?”
“Well,” I call towards the open door as I zip up my black boots, “I have to meet him first and then we’ll see. I don’t even know if he’ll want to. But that is kind of the whole point of dating. Okay, well, not the whole point of dating,
but it’s certainly a major part of rebound dating which is my current vibe.”
I step back into the kitchen, shoes and coat on, and Andy’s wide-eyed expression conveys a clear problem.
“You’re looking at me like I’m crazy again. Is it the dress?”
I smooth down the front nervously. “Tell me now before I leave and it’s too late.”
“No, no, yeah, totally, yeah,” he says. “The dress is fine. Just, you know, be careful.”
And it’s kind of cute. I don’t have brothers, but maybe this is what it would be like to have a brother looking out for me. It’s weirdly touching, actually.
“I’ll be fine. You helped me pick this guy out, remember? And it looks like you have an equally thrilling night planned with your… pickle, tofu, and grape jelly sandwich?”
He looks down at the counter where he does in fact have the ingredients for a pickle, tofu, and grape jelly sandwich. He shrugs. “The traditional meal of my people.”
“And I respect your heritage. Anyway, I have to go. Love you, enjoy your feast!”
His “Love you too” follows me as I shut the door.