I had a nice bottle of red wine and a big batch of yesterday’s chili con carne. The perfect excuse for a girls night with my friend Charlie.
“Nice guys don’t get laid,” I said, having a sip of my wine, sitting on my sofabed.
“Yeah, I don’t know why. Girls just like douche bags,” replied Charlie, sitting on the other side of the couch, covered by a duvet.
“There’s so much bullshit in this dating world. Take Date Girl, for instance. We haven’t talked since Friday. What should I do?”
“You shouldn’t let too much time go by. Write her tomorrow.”
“I was thinking the same. I wanted to give her some space, but don’t want her to forget about me. I like her.”
“Playing hard to get is dangerous. You gotta be careful. Time is your enemy.”
We kept drinking our wine, listening to music. It was chilled and cozy, just sitting there, sharing a duvet. I liked this whole girly thing, this desexualized moment. Years ago I didn’t have any female friends. I couldn’t even dream about it, nor think it was possible. Now, most of my friends in Copenhagen are girls. One of them is married, and I’m fucking her. But that’s something else.
“That girl is trouble,” Charlie said, referring to T.
“You said the same about Marie. She’s out of the picture now, though.”
“I don’t think we’ve seen the last of Marie…”
I laughed. Then I was quiet for an instant. “I don’t think so either.”
“God, Eduardo! You seem to attract this kind of girls.”
“Some of them are weird, but all of them are very smart. Philosophers, journalists, scientists, artists. Smart women have a thing for me, and I have a thing for them. I’m lucky.”
“A nice guy who gets laid…”
“I’m not that nice,” I said, with a naughty smile. It felt strangely good.
The thought of me being closed and silent about my feelings and my private life seemed so obsolete. Such a stupid attitude to have in the past. It felt only right opening my heart, being myself.
“So you broke up because she cheated on you and told you all these things about her past?” Charlie asked.
“Yes…” I replied, taking a deep breath. Could feel the tears coming, but held them back. Felt too vulnerable, all of a sudden. “She was my soulmate. I loved her. But I couldn’t deal with what she did to me. She fucked everything up. If it weren’t because of that, we would be married by now. Did I tell you we were engaged?”
“Ah, shit! No, you haven’t told me that detail.”
“Well, yeah. I knew she was the love of my life.” I paused and sighed. “She was.”
Charlie left at 1 am. The dishes are still on the table. The glasses too, stained with red wine. My soul is content. It was a good talk. And a great meal.
