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Lila pops into my office with three huge paper cups in a cardboard tray. “Vanilla blueberry swirl,” she announces. She doesn’t look like someone running on five hours of sleep. She looks perfectly styled despite our bland work attire of khakis and loose white shirts. Blond curls tumble down her back and her violet eyes sparkle, perfectly matching her jewelry and manicure.
I eye her as she holds out a cup that smells strongly of blueberries. “This is coffee, right?”
She laughs. “Yes, silly. Tom’s bringing blueberry doughnut holes. I thought we should stick with a theme.”
Of course. Because nothing improves a discussion about my pathetic dating life more than a fruit-based theme.
Right on cue, I hear his key in the front door as he whistles a cheery tune. “It’s me, Charlie.” Tom always ensures I know he’s approaching, and he instinctively avoids walking behind me or inadvertently trapping me in a corner.
Like I said, good friend.
“Back here,” I call. He saunters in, dressed in his usual black scrubs. His brown hair is still damp, and I smell his clean, soapy scent mingling with the aroma of fresh pastry and blueberries.
“Still warm.” He lifts the white bakery bag and produces a wad of napkins. “Desk or couch?”
“Couch,” Lila answers. She selects a spot on the white sofa and hands him a coffee while he fills a plate with doughnuts. I sit beside Lila, and Tom flops into a chair across from us.
I bite into warm deliciousness and sigh as sugary icing melts over my tongue. “I really needed this.”
He chuckles. “That answers my question.”
“What question?”
“Winner or whiner.”
I narrow my gaze. “Really? No polite chit chat? No ‘How are you, Charlie?’ or ‘Did you sleep well, Charlie?’ Just straight to ‘How badly did your date suck this time?’”
He grins. “I didn’t ask if he sucked. I inferred it from your comment.”
“So how badly did he suck?” Lila asks.
I roll my eyes. “He would have had to improve to suck.”
Tom tilts his head toward Lila. “Why do you let her rope you into this?”
I sigh again, and not from carb-induced bliss. “Because Lila wants me to be happy. Normal. Which means I need to work on finding the perfect man.”
Tom raises an eyebrow. “There’s no such thing.”
I smile and gesture in his direction. “Present company excluded, of course.”
“Naturally.”
Lila frowns. “Time out. I never said you couldn’t be happy without a man. You need to be happy with yourself, with or without a man. No man should be the sole thing that makes you happy, regardless of how wonderful he may be. I simply said you need to learn to trust again and be open to the possibility that all men don’t suck.”
“I never said all men suck. Mark doesn’t suck. Tucker doesn’t. Tom doesn’t.”
“I definitely don’t,” Tom grins. “I’m an exceptional human being.”
“An exceptional human being with terrible taste in women,” Lila interjects. Tom snorts, and they’re off.
I watch in amusement as they squabble good-naturedly over Tom’s girlfriend-of-the-month, Whitney. Whitney is the anchor of a local morning news show, a willowy platinum blonde with a spectacular figure and luminous blue eyes. Lila insists she’s had significant cosmetic assistance. (“No boobs that big don’t have some natural sag unless they’re fake, and those nipples could poke someone’s eye out. Plus, when she smiles, nothing above her cheekbones moves.”) I can only speculate about her gravity-defying breasts and weaponized nipples, but Lila’s dead-on with her assessment of Whitney's facial features. When she smiles, the corners of her eyes don’t crease, and when she attempts to affect a look of faux-sincere concern for her viewers, her perfectly arched brows remain motionless.
Their bickering about Tom’s busty blond companion continues as Tom insists she’s perfectly nice. There's something in his eyes, though, something he’s not saying. Lila argues Whitney is phony and superficial and that Tom could do better. While I silently agree, I remain outwardly neutral. When it comes to Tom’s taste in women, I’m Switzerland.
Eventually, the conversation winds back to me when Tom points at me with a pastry. “None of that explains why you let Lila pick your dates.”
I reach for another doughnut hole. “Theoretically, you can tell from their profile if you’re compatible before you ever have to meet them.”
