It’s like as soon as you focus on something, want something, it becomes impossible to attain, but all the more immediately necessary for you to get. All I wanted was a conversation with a woman that wasn’t forced or didn’t make me look like a complete idiot.

So I called Fran and she told me she was dealing with two chicks right now and that HER hands were full.

“Full’s better than empty.” I moaned.

“That’s the key I think, get one, then all of a sudden they’re banging down your door.”

“I miss you Fran, you and your ideologies.”

“I’ll have to fix you up.”

“You know any straight broads?”

“I was thinking of this girl when I was at Tigre. She’d be an easy in for you I think, really cute, but maybe not so confident.”

“I can think of no reason not to meet her.”

“Karyn” waited in a yellow booth at Mocha Daze. My stomach felt empty when I saw her and my blood flow quickened and lightened. I knew it was her because as I stood by the front door surveying, she waved and smiled like an eager but coy doe. Round eyes, white face, and creamy brown hair.

She already had her coffee. “Would you like something to munch?”

“Maybe some banana bread we could share. Be right back.”

I threw my thrift store jacket onto the seat across from her. It slid to the floor. I started for it. “I’ll get it,” she said and disappeared under the table.

When I returned with our snack, she was still smiling and smiled the rest of the hour we spent together.

We talked about parents, dating, careers (she’s in law school now), and skiing. I wasn’t quite sure what Fran was talking about, the confidence thing and all.

She gave me her number and we said good-bye.

Fran called. “Don’t call her.”

“Why not? She was great I thought. We talked and she’s pretty and I think very confident. Unless of course...she doesn’t want me to call.”

“It’s not that she doesn’t want you to call, it’s just that well...”

“What? What did she say?”

“She said you were too chatty.”

“Chatty?!”

“Like a girl she said. She said she didn’t want a guy who was chatty.”

“What the hell is chatty? We talked. What are we supposed to do? I mean, what does she want me to do--- sit there like a lug or just grab her and stick my tongue down her throat?”

“Don’t get defensive.”

“I’m not defensive. Screw this Fran, I don’t want any woman. I don’t want anybody, just forget the whole thing.”

“Don’t be that way Mike. Maybe you need to get drunk. I’ll be there in an hour.”

Three margaritas in at Tex Mex and I didn’t give a shit that I was rejected for being too chatty. I was feeling good and eating chips and the waiter was hitting on me. I still had no interest in men, but flirting is flirting and it fed me like a neglected child.

When we left he slipped me his number which Fran took from me to give to Greg.

“Greg’s just going to call him?”

“Sure, why not? Greg’s better looking than you anyway, he’d be trading up.”

I laughed because I was too drunk to be insulted.