"That really doesn't narrow it down any."
"He's walking toward us right now."
"Okay. Now I see him."
The Pierced Eyebrow Guy walked over to us. "Hey, Haley," he said. "I was wondering where you went."
Haley introduced us to her playmate de jour. "This is my roommate, Dorothy, and her friend Lahrs. This is Ex."
"Your name is X?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Like the letter?"
"More like the ex in ex-boyfriend, ex-husband, ex-convict."
"Oh."
"Ex wants to know if we want to go with him to Denny's," said Haley. "Are you guys hungry?"
"Not really," said Lahrs.
"What about you, Dorothy?" Ex asked.
"No."
"Mind if I go with Ex?" Haley whispered to me.
"Can you give me a ride home?" I whispered to Lahrs.
"It would be my pleasure," he whispered back.
"Have fun," I said to Haley.
"Great. See you guys later," Haley said as she trotted out the door with Ex close behind. Lahrs and I were alone once again on the red velvet couch. Lahrs moved in closer. He leaned over and gave me a soft, gentle kiss. I could feel my entire body get all shivery.
"Let's get out of here," he said.
"Let's."
I already know what you’re thinking. No, I didn’t sleep with Lahrs the first night I met him. I might have wanted to, really, really badly but I didn’t. I may be shallow, but I’m not easy. I never even went to his apartment.
We did make out in his car, though. He has a red Volkswagen Beetle. And not one of those new reproductions, either—I’m talking the original, older than we are, car. How he got the thing all the way from Seattle to Tampa I have yet to figure out.
So there we were, making out in his car, which, by the way, isn't as easy as it sounds. Have you ever tried making out in a Volkswagen Beetle? But we managed to get pretty hot and heavy, that is, until I threw up.
I don't know if it was my dad dying or the over-abundance of sleep I had gotten, but I never threw up on a date before, and certainly not while I was in the middle of making out. I was extremely embarrassed; I think Lahrs was scared.
"Are you all right?" he asked, trying to move away from the puddle of vomit that now adorned his gear shift.
"Not really," I said, "I just threw up."
"I see that."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
"No, it isn't. Your car is full of vomit."
"It isn't the first time."
"That doesn't make me feel any better."
"How much did you have to drink?"
"Nothing."
"You didn't have anything to drink?"
"No. I usually don't drink when I go dancing. It dehydrates me."
"Do you have the flu?"
"I don’t think so."
"Then it's probably stress. Maybe I'd better get you home."
"I guess so… "
"What's wrong?"
"It looks like I've made a complete mess of everything."
"You did kind of make a mess of my gear shift panel."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. This car has seen a lot worse, believe me."
"I really don't want to go home."
"I have an idea."
Lahrs drove to Wax and Stacks, an all night pancake house and car wash. We pulled his Volkswagen into the car wash area and jumped out. A young guy came over and took the keys.
"Wash and wax?" the Car Wash Guy asked.
"Yep," said Lahrs.
"Interior?"
"Definitely."
"Pancakes?"
"That's entirely up to the young woman," said Lahrs.
"Let's," I said.
As Lahrs and I walked over to the diner, I heard the Car Wash Guy yelling to someone inside the car wash, "Another puke-mobile, coming through."
Part 5: A Man Made Entirely of Tin
Lahrs waited a few days to call me after that first night, which totally freaked me out. I wondered if he really wanted to see me again, after the whole puke-mobile incident. I waited by the phone for like seventy-two hours straight. I didn't have anything better to do but still, seventy-two hours? Please!
Haley tried to cheer me up by bringing me pizza and the occasional Diet Coke. It was a good thing I had gotten all that sleep because I used up all my reserves waiting for Lahrs’s call.
It was 8:45 pm the following Tuesday night when the phone finally rang. It was the conversation that changed my life and convinced me Lahrs was my soul-mate.
"Hello," I said, answering the phone.
"Hey." It was Lahrs.
"Hey," I said.
"You know who this is?"
"Yeah."
"Cool."
"Yeah."
"So, how are you?"
"Okay."
"Great."
"How about you?"
"Fine."
"That’s cool."
"You want to go out on Saturday? Maybe we could do the dinner-and-a-movie thing?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Great."
"Where do you want to go?"
"I don’t know. I’ve only been here a few months. Why don’t you pick the restaurant?"
"You like Mexican?"
"Doesn't everyone?"
"True enough."
"I’ll pick you up at 7."
Talking to Lahrs was like talking to a kindred spirit. We were meant for each other and destiny had brought us together. We were both at vulnerable points in our lives and needed each other. I had never connected at such a deep and profound level with a man before in my life.
Part 6: It is Such an Uncomfortable Feeling to Know One is a Fool
My first individual therapy session with the Mickey Rooney clone was scheduled for the very next day. I was really tired because I had laid awake most of the night fantasizing about Lahrs. I really didn’t want to go for counseling but I knew my mother was being billed $125 and it was already past the twenty-four hour in advance cancellation period, so I went.
There I sat in the waiting room—waiting. This time I was smart enough to bring my own magazine. Do you know who was finishing their session right before mine? The gay couple from the previous week. And didn’t they look cute together in their matching purple silk sweat suits and Reebok tennies? I wondered why they were in therapy. Could it be that one of them revealed a secret crush on a woman? Doubtful.