Page 2 of Bearly Hanging On

Yeah, I was not boning this guy tonight, not even with someone else’s vagina. I inspected him closely, looking for signs. The shirt was well pressed, but in theory Brad knew his way around an iron. The jeans were in worn, but good condition. His hand… I held it up to look more closely at it in the glow of the streetlights. Subtle, but that ring of paler skin was there.

“You’re married.”

Desertification is the process by which previous arable land becomes dry and sandy, and right now that described my vagina.

“What? No.”

“What?” I mimicked his tone perfectly. “Yes, you are.”

I grabbed my phone and snapped a quick photo of him, catching his deer-in-the-headlights expression perfectly. Are we dating the same guy groups were my lifeline in single girl hell.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I went very quiet, very still, realising now what a mistake this was. We were standing out in an empty car park outside a pub where some terrible cover band was making enough noise to drown out any cries for help I might make. Chad seemed to realise what he was doing, swallowing hard and then trying to salvage the situation. “Look, I wasn’t going to bring this up.”

“Bring up what, Brad?” I snapped, surreptitiously bringing up the video app on my phone. If he was going to murder me horribly, I wanted evidence so my best friend, Daria, could avenge me. “What did you neglect to tell me before we decided to do the no pants dance?”

“I am married?—”

“Boy, bye.”

I turned around, not giving a shit what he did right now, but he was at my door when I went to unlock it.

“But we have an open marriage.” He settled against my front fender, talking faster and faster as I wrenched the door open. “Monogamy is just a construct, y’know?”

“Monogamy is a choice.” Suddenly I was all prim. “As is polyamory or whatever kinky shit the two of you are in.” I stopped midway into the car. “If she even knows what you’re after.” I looked down at my phone, and the way he went white made clear his lie. “So unless you want to find your face plastered all across the local Are We Dating The Same Guy group, you are gonna back the fuck off.”

Yeah, he jerked himself away so fast it was as if my car was made of molten lava.

“Pro tip.” I jabbed my finger in the air, well and truly pissed now. “Let a girl know what your deal is before we get past the messaging stage. If I got the go ahead from your wife, this might’ve gone differently.”

He watched my fingers touch my lips, and for a moment, hope sprang eternal. I shut that shit down fast.

“But you didn’t, so maybe you should go back to your ‘sister’ and see if she wants to torpedo the great white whale there.” I gave the shape of his massive wang one last look. Pretty sure it would’ve gone up in the size queen hall of fame. “I only like being fucked by big dicks, not being treated like shit by one.”

I was in my car and had the engine fired up before I reversed out of the car park. My wheels spun gravel all over Brad as I roared out and onto the road.

“Siri, play All Men Are Dicks playlist,” I told my phone as I put more and more kilometres between me and the pub. Ani DiFranco’s raspy tones came through the speakers, her poetic rage helping me feel my own.

But what did I expect?

Growing up I’d been forced to endure a parade of Mum’s boyfriends, each one worse than the last. Susie Quinn didn’t do single, that had been made clear to me the moment she split from Dad. How the hell did I manage to convince myself to go on this date in the first place?

“Hey…”Daria was my flat mate, ride or die bestie, and all round partner-in-crime. “That was quick. Did he forget to brush his teeth? No.” She poked her finger in my direction. “Mouth breathe too noisily? Um… was his profile photo about ten years out of date?”

“Are you done?” I asked, plopping down on the chair beside her. The bottle of tequila was drawn closer and I licked my hand, sprinkling salt on it before downing a shot, then sucking down a slice of lime. “He was married.”

“Again?” Her yelp had my eyes narrowing so she held up her hands in surrender. “C’mon, you gotta admit there’s been a few.”

“Another ‘open marriage’ guy,” I said and we both groaned at that.

“Polyamory is real, but fuck, has it become the cheater’s cover of choice.” Daria leaned over and poured me a very hefty shot before pushing another piece of lime my way. “Dating apps are the freaking worst.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I said and did just that.

“You know what we need to do.”

“Not drive anywhere.” I looked at the bottle in alarm because she was pouring more shots with a heavy hand. “Because what the hell are we drinking to?”

“Broke up with my latest guy,” she said, and that smile told me everything. It was the one you plastered on your face to cover up the cracks that were forming in your heart.

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