Ashley and Nina dragged me on a “Grouper date” last night. Grouper is this Web site that basically arranges a group blind date—so instead of two people awkwardly making conversation over bad white wine, six people get to join in on the fun!
“I don’t want to be within three feet of anything with a penis right now,” I whined to Nina as she dug through my closet for a non-drawstring-waisted item of clothing for me to wear.
“Shush your mouth,” Nina said. “You are going, and you are going to have fun.”
“No,” I insisted. “I won’t. My man-resentment is so palpable right now that I don’t even think it’s safe for me to be too close to one. All I can think is, ‘So how long before you cheat on me?’” I sat down on the edge of my bed and flopped onto my back. Just thinking about going back out into the dating scene again was exhausting.
Nina came and sat down next to me. “Not all guys cheat.”
“Feels like it.”
“Okay, here is the deal,” Nina said. “We are going for one hour. If after one hour, you’re having a bad time, we can go and I’ll get you a slice from the good pizza place.”
“The one all the way across town?”
“Yes.”
“And I don’t have to go with you? You’ll just bring it to me?”
“Yes, princess.”
“Fine. But I’m not shaving.”
An hour later, Ashley, Nina, and I were sitting across from Tom, Matthew, and Nick. They were 27, graduated from college together, moved to the city together, and all lived together. I could smell the frat on them.
“So Josie, what do you do?” Tom, Matthew, or Nick asked me. I hadn’t bothered to differentiate between the three.
“Well, Nick, I’m writing an erotic novel.”
“It’s Tom actually.
“Wait, like 50 Shades?” Nick or Matthew asked.
“Yup,” I tossed back the rest of my drink. I was drizunk.
“Sweet,” he said, looking at his friends and smiling wide. “How does one get into that line of work?”
“You just have a lot of sex,” I said. “You just go out there and act like a big fat slut. And then you write about it.”
“Okay!” Nina said, sliding a glass of water in my direction. “I have an early meeting tomorrow, so I think we should call it a night.”
Nina and Ashley exchanged contact info with some of the guys. One of them actually asked me for mine—I guess you get a pass on being a biotch so long as you write about sex—and I gave him a fakie. I was desperate to crawl into my bed, so naturally, we couldn’t find a cab.
“I just want to go home,” I groaned as we hustled across 6th avenue to try and flag down an off duty taxi.
“You made that clear,” Ashley muttered.
“Well, I’m sorry I ruined your night,” I snapped. “I told you guys I wasn’t ready for this, and you made me come anyway.”
“Because moping isn’t healthy!” Nina said perkily. I could tell she was trying to diffuse the tension between Ashley and me.
“It’s been less than two weeks, I’m entitled to mope!”
“Fine, then let me know when you’re through with it so I can avoid you until then,” Ashley shot back.
I stopped dead in my tracks. “You know what? I don’t expect you to understand since you’ve never had a relationship before and you don’t know what it is to have your heart shredded to pieces.”
“Oh God,” Ashley rolled her eyes. “Dramatic much?”
“You guys, come on,” Nina said, stepping between us.
At that moment, we all spotted an open cab ambling down the street. Nina stuck out her hand and it pulled over. We all climbed in wordlessly.
“Two stops,” Nina told the driver, giving him Ashley’s address first.
When we pulled up to Ashley’s, Ashley said goodnight to Nina, but nothing to me. She even slammed the door behind her. And she called me dramatic.
“Am I wrong here?” I said, turning to Nina. “She’s always like this, she has no empathy. She just expects you to get over things like this.” I snapped my fingers.
“She can be tough,” Nina agreed. “But you probably shouldn’t have pulled the ‘you’ve never had a boyfriend before so you wouldn’t understand’ card. You know she’s sensitive about that.”
“Well, it’s true,” I said. I rested my head against the window. “I’m just so disappointed about Peter, so disappointed that it ended like this.” I started to cry. “And it’s like she just wants me to be over it. I’m not.”
“I know,” Nina said, rubbing my arm.
I probably owe Ashley an apology, but I think she owes me one too. I told her and Nina that I wasn’t ready for this tonight—the only men I can stand to be around right now is Bill and his bulldog—and they insisted I go anyway.
How long is too long to mourn a break up? I think I deserve at least a month and a few jars of Justin’s chocolate almond butter with vanilla ice cream, wouldn’t you?
From Cosmopolitan.com. Visit Amazon Beauty Ceneter here
