Page 51 of Right Man, Right Time
Great question.
Sweat forms on my upper lip as I attempt to remember the story Silas and I agreed upon, but for the life of me, my mind goes blank.
Black.
It’s all faded.
“The doctor’s office,” I nearly shout. The moment the words leave my mouth, Silas stiffens next to me. I don’t blame him because I’m pretty sure we’re about to go on a wild ride. “Yup, the doctor’s office. Weird, I know, but I was there for a routine checkup, and Silas was there because he got a rock stuck up his nose.” Silas shifts next to me, and I can only imagine what’s going through his head. “Now, some might think that’s a sure-fire way to get a first-class ticket to the emergency room, but not Silas. He’s a real saint and believed his GP could assist him with his needs. I remember seeing him in the waiting room, wondering how a grown man got a rock stuck up his nose. Come to find out, it wasn’t from morbid curiosity or a nose fetish on his end. He just happened to sniff at the wrong time while a car drove by, lodging a rock right up the nostril. What are the chances, right?”
“Very . . . odd,” Gloria says while Roberts studies me carefully. God, he can probably see right through me as well. He’s mentally dialing HR, telling them to pull my file because a firing will occur.
“Anyway, I told him good luck with his nose, then went on my way. Hard to make a love connection with a guy who was mouth breathing the whole time, am I right?” Silas slips his arm around my waist and squeezes me tight.Yeah, he’s not happy.
Don’t worry, dude. I’m not happy either because now I need to run with this story.
“So how did you two connect then?” Roberts asks, seeming more into the story than I initially thought.
I nod slowly and say, “The zoo.”
“The zoo?” Gloria asks.
“Yup. We were both marveling at the domestic donkeys when we turned to leave and bumped into each other. The earth nearly shook as we fumbled to gain our footing. I knocked a chicken tender out of his hand, he accidentally sneezed on my face, and when all was said and done, I cleared my eyes, he pushed his hair out of his face, and it was like angels sang around us. It was rock nose guy . . .”
“Aw,” Gloria says.
“And he had his fly down.”
“Oh,” Roberts replies with a chuckle. I know, I think a fly down is hilarious as well. Real classic comedy.
“Yup, there he was, not one single rock stuck up his nose, munching on a kid-size chicken tender, staring romantically at the domestic donkeys with his fly down.” I wave my hand in front of my face, chuckling. “What an ass . . . am I right?” I laugh a little harder because that was funny. Thankfully, Roberts and Gloria join in.
When the laughter dies down, Gloria says, “What happened next?” And right there, I see that I’ve hooked her. She’s no longer sneering in judgment or trying to see through me but rather leaning forward in interest. She’s invested. Roberts crosses his ankle over the opposite knee and looks positively entertained.
Huzzah.
Now it’s time to really kick it up a notch.
“Naturally, after the angels stopped singing, I told him his fly was down. Befuddled with embarrassment, he gripped his zipper and yanked it up . . .” Gloria and Roberts lean in. “I know what you’re wondering . . . he zipped up too much, right?” I shake my head. “Luckily, that was not the case, but while he zipped up, I bent down and picked up his chicken tender for him. Poor thing was barely nibbled on. When I offered it back to him, he told me we’d surpassed the five-second rule, and he couldn’t finish it. A decision I respected, given the amount of animal feces probably scattered throughout the walkways. He then proceeded to tell me how he was at an expert level of zipping his fly and wasn’t sure why it was down in front of the donkeys. I gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, told him not to be embarrassed, and then . . . took off.”
“You left?” Gloria asks. “After the angels sang?”
“Crazy, right? But there was something in his desperation to clear the air about his fly being down in front of the domestic donkeys that had a mini red flag waving over his head. I didn’t want to subject myself to someone who might have . . . an animal fetish, if you know what I mean.” Silas sharply coughs, and I take that as a solid “shut the fuck up right now, Ollie.”
But I can’t stop.
It’s like a dam that’s collapsed.
“You didn’t know who he was?” Gloria asks.
I shake my head. “No idea. And as I started to leave, he called out . . . you owe me.” See, there’s some truth to this story. “When I asked him what for, he told me I owed him a chicken tender.” I talk behind my hand and say, “Clearly a desperate attempt to spend more time with me. Despite the possible red flag, I saw right through it but was marginally interested. I’ve always been into a little freakiness. After all, he did have a rock stuck up his nose and flirted with me in the doctor’s office. The confidence this man has is astounding. So I told him of course I’d buy him a new tender. Together, we walked over to the concessions, and I purchased more tenders. He asked me to join him, and I did. I watched him mix mayonnaise and mustard together for a dipping sauce concoction I can still smell to this day. Positively putrid. But as he ate, he told me how much he loves donkeys. Their petite stature, unruly hair, and mind-of-their-own ears. As I listened to him go on and on about donkeys, I thought to myself, you know . . . he’s kind of cute, so when he asked me for my number, I handed it over.”
“That’s sweet,” Gloria says.
“But that’s not really how it ended.”
“Jesus Christ,” Silas mutters under his breath.
“His attention to grammar in his text messages truly got my motor revving. Nothing is more erotic to me than the proper usage of punctuation in a text message. A lost art if you ask me.”
