Recently, I had drinks with V and a very nice friend of his who met us down south in an attempt to set V up with one of his lady-friends.
The four of us sat around the hightop and I immediately knew I liked this girl. It was obvious that she was as close to V's friend as I am to him and it was apparent in the way that she repeatedly threw him under the bus.
I cannot remember the last time I laughed so hard.
First, she brought up the girl he was seeing. "Seeing" being the operative word. I don't even know if he used it at first. He might have only admitted that they were "hanging out." It just goes to show, it doesn't matter how old someone is or how many times they have been married, relationship status is scary and no one is going to admit it easily.
Still, his good buddy persisted. "So, tell them where you were last weekend," she said.
He looked slightly nauseous and then admitted that he had spent that weekend at her parents.
"So you have been dating for months, spending every weekend with her, and now you guys are sharing a room on vacations with her parents and you can't say she is your girlfriend?" I had just met this guy and I was interrogating him - clearly I am a bitch, probably emphasized by the giant pilsners of beer.
"I can say it! She is my girlfriend!" And without realizing he made air quotes around the word "girlfriend."
It was pretty much the most quote-unquote male thing I have ever seen.
He turned a lovely shade of plum when he realized what he did and we all roared with delight.
Later, in a way that was so sly and so brilliant that I could never articulate how she did it, his good friend chucked him under again. It went something like, "Well, she is young." Tucked neatly in a passing moment of conversation.
"Wait," V said. "How old is she?"
"Wow. Umm...That's cool. It's like high school and a half!"
Later it was this poor gents turn to turn the tables and he caught me coming out of the bathroom and rather insistently suggested I get my check and depart.
He had been trying to set V and his friend up for months and it was now time for me to get out of the way. I went back to the table, gathered my things and nonchalantly gave V a squeeze.
"Have fuuuun!!" I squealed and took of without looking back.
Later I would ask V how long his friend had stayed before leaving to play matchmaker, curious if he had lingered now that at least one set of accusing eyes had departed the table. V reassured me that his friend left right after I did.
Part of me hoped that they would hit it off. Part of me knew better. V would never air quote and when he finds the right girl, there will be no fear in the G-word. He just needs to stop spending so much time with bitchy girls like me.