You Don't Have To Dance With The One Who Brought You (To A Funeral)

    Emily's date did not go well. She would be the first person to say that it came as no surprise, if only she could get a word in. There were two reasons for this:

1. Kevin, her Best Gay Boyfriend was in rant mode.
2. She was hungry and she was now home where she could tuck into a bag of chips and her own Best Damned Salsa Anybody Ever Ate* while Kevin the BGBf was engaged in the first item on this list and his boyfriend, Dave, was in watch and eat mode. 

   

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     "Really, Emily? I mean, he shouldn't have left with that makeup girlie thing..."

     "Post-mortem beauty professional." Emily offered the correction and then crammed another fully loaded tortilla chip in her mouth.

     "I don't care if she was Presbyterian or Episcopalian or whatever, that was just rude." 

     "Kevin?"

     "WHAT?"

     "Stupid makes your butt look big."

     "Laugh it up, Missy. You take a date to a funeral and you call it a date to the date? What... What is wrong with you?"

     "It was a stupid idea. It was also an idea, uh, whose time had come."  Emily nodded.

     "What does that even mean?"
     
     Emily didn't know. It just sounded good at the moment. Her former date, AKA The Cowboy, was not even a cowboy, at least in any sense of the word that Emily would use as a descriptor. 

     Kevin's lips were moving. She needed to pay attention before someone invoked the "Blah blah blah Ginger" Rule.

     "What was wrong with him, anyway?" Kevin looked far more devastated at the loss of The Cowboy than Emily. "He was so pretty."

     "Well, for starters, he was twenty-eight..."

     "So?"

     Emily sighed and rolled her eyes, two conversational tics she knew Kevin hated. "Dave, help me out here."

     "He was about as smart, about, not quite, as smart as a head of bok choy."

      "Dave you are so close, but no cookie. Stupid hurts. But this is more a case of complete generational connect. Wait. Let me correct myself here: inter-generational disconnect. You both realize that I was attempting a second failed career choice around the time The Cowboy was born."

     Emily picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels on her Roku .Kevin sighed and gave Dave a look when he caught him double dipping.  Emily shook her head.

     "It's not like there's company. It's just us. Stick your fingers in the dip if you want."

     Kevin sighed. He sighed again.


     "I'll ask one question and then I promise to leave this alone."


    Emily felt her gut clench. She didn't believe him. "Go ahead", she said.


     "What was your last fight about?"


     Emily rolled her eyes, "Hell if I know. He was so moody and emotional. I gave up trying to figure out what his daily upsets were about."


  Kevin rubbed his temples. This conversation was making him want to cry. "Could you be a little more specific?"


   "Okay. He walked into the bedroom wearing tight whities, cowboy boots, and his favorite hat.  He looked right at me and asked me and said, 'Do I look like an idiot to you?'"
     
     "And you said?"

     "Do you want an honest answer?"

     "Yes, of course I do. Emily, what did you say?"

     "That's what I said."

     "Okay." Kevin took a deep breath. "What were you talking about before that?"

     "He had just written a song about aliens making crop circles."

     Dave giggled and grabbed another hand full of tortilla chips. 

     "Kevin, the boy was a flake. He was pretty, but he was also a little dim and, let's face it, a bit on the high maintenance side. Am I right? 

   "He insists on cuddling and talking after sex. That shit gets old."

      Meanwhile, somewhere just west of Antioch, The Cowboy was cooling his heels and his head. He managed to duck and weave away form the attentions of Mindy the Makeup Girl.  All that was left was to sit in his living room and watch the shadows change as the sunset filtered through his living room blinds. 

     He felt bad about Emily. She reminded him of his favorite high school girlfriend. She was smart, funny, potty-mouthed, and didn't 

give a damn about anything except what she gave a damn about. She was also a loyal friend. He liked that about her.  And he liked her friends, especially Kevin.

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     "Best to get that thought out of your head," he muttered to himself. "That sort of thing doesn't fly around here, especially if you want to break into Contemporary Christian."


*Want the recipe for Emily's salsa? You can find it here: 
The Best Darned Salsa You Ever Put in Your Mouth @ Vegan Nom

copyright 2015 Jas Faulkner