Love and Lists (Chocoholics) (2 page)

“So did you guys break up or something?”

Please say yes, please say yes.

Charlotte cried harder and pressed her face into the side of my neck while I wrapped my arms around her and held her close.

Is it wrong that I’m thinking about pushing her back onto the couch and making out with her instead of consoling her? I suck.

“He just doesn’t understand me, you know?” Charlotte whimpered and burrowed closer to me.

You’re right. He doesn’t understand you. I’m the only one who understands you. ME!

“Did you just say
me
?” Charlotte questioned, pulling her face away from my neck and staring up at me.

“Uh, yes. Me totally understand that he doesn’t understand you. Me understand.”

I patted her back lamely and tried to think of something un-caveman-like to say next.

“What did you guys fight about?”

I couldn’t care less but I’m a good guy and good guys ask these sorts of questions.

Charlotte sighed and scooted away from me on the couch, brushing her long brown hair out of her face. “I don’t know. I don’t even remember. It was something stupid. I shouldn’t have come over here and unloaded all of this on you. He really does love me and he’s a great guy.”

She looked up at me with wide, expectant eyes, waiting for me to agree with her that he’s a super human being. Yeah, not gonna happen.

He’s a troll who gets to touch her whenever he wants. He can burn in the fiery pits of hell for all I care.

Charlotte kept looking at me with those gorgeous eyes, and I caved under the pressure.

“You’re right. He’s awesome. I’m sure you guys will be fine.”

Someone get me a bucket to barf in.

I’m jealous, irritated, and horny after holding her so close to me all night and smelling her skin. She always smells like cherry almond. And since I’m slightly obsessed with her, I know that’s because of the lotion she uses: Jergens Original Scent. No, that’s not weird at all. Shut up. It’s probably weird, though, that I stroke the snake using Jergens Original Scent. How about we just pretend I never shared that little tidbit, okay?

My best friend, Tyler Branson, called me when I was on my way home from consoling Charlotte, and he could tell by the sound of my voice that I needed help, so he made an emergency trip to my apartment.

“I think what we need to do here is make a list,” Tyler tells me after he swallows a mouthful of beer.

Tyler was my college roommate. I met him on my first day when I moved into the dorms. I walked into our room with my mom and dad carrying boxes of my crap behind me, only to find him standing naked in the middle of his bed, hanging a poster of Megan Fox on his ceiling.

Tyler likes being naked. Tyler thinks everyone likes
seeing
him naked because he’s under the impression he has the body of a Greek God. Tyler learned within seven seconds of meeting my mother that women will point and laugh at him when he’s naked. Tyler has been in love with my mother ever since.

“Seriously, bro. We need to make a list. I’m tired of seeing you moping around on your period every single day. You have the most epic job in the history of the world, and that alone should make you happy, but I get it. You need the girl. We’ll get you the girl,” Tyler reassures me as he rummages through the junk drawer in my kitchen for a piece of paper and a pen.

“How’s a list going to help Charlotte fall in love with me?” I question him as he finds what he’s looking for. He smoothes out a crumpled piece of paper on my countertop and writes in big, bold letters across the top:
How to Make Charlotte Bang Me
.

“That is so not the purpose of this. I don’t want her to bang me,” I complain.

Tyler stares at me with one eyebrow raised.

“Okay, fine!” I relent after a few seconds of his stare-down. “That’s not the ONLY purpose. I can’t just come right out and tell her I love her; she’ll have a heart attack. We’ve known each other since birth and this is going to come out of left field. I need to figure out a way to ease her into it.”

Tyler sighs in annoyance and crosses out the last part of the title and scribbles on the paper again. He turns it around to show me.

How to Make Charlotte
Bang Me
Love Me. And Turn into a Giant Pussy.

“You’re such a dick.”

Tyler shrugs. “Whatev. You’re still a pussy. Okay, item number one …”

He pauses, tapping the end of the pen against his chin while he thinks.

“Ooooh, I’ve got it! Show her your penis,” he says aloud as he writes on the paper.

“What?! No! That is not going on the list,” I argue as I try to take the page from him.

He jerks away, rolling his eyes at me.

“This is absolutely going on the list. Chicks need to test out the merchandise before they can make a decision. Do you honestly think she’s going to love you if she thinks you might be harboring a pinky-peen in your pants?”

There’s really no use in arguing with him at this point. Tyler is going to do whatever the fuck he wants. It’s best to just humor him. It’s not like I’m ever going to really use the list so who cares?

“Fine. But it’s not going as number one.”

Tyler smiles in victory and crosses out what he wrote, moving further down the page and rewriting it with a number five in front of it.

“There. Not at the top, not at the bottom. It will give you plenty of time to work up to the showing of the penis and then plenty of time to recover after you show it to her and she starts rocking back and forth in the corner, weeping silently.”

Reaching across the counter, I punch him as hard as I can in the arm.

“Fucker! I bruise easily! What would Claire say if I told her you were abusing me?” Tyler questions as he rubs the spot on his arm where my fist connected.

“Shut up about my mother.”

“No can do. She’s going to be mine one day. You should just start calling me dad now,” he says nonchalantly.

Ever since the day he met my mother—naked—he’s been in love with her. For seven years I’ve had to endure him leering at her, making inappropriate comments, and imagining all the different ways my dad could die so he could console the grieving widow.

“I’m going to punch you right in the ball sack if you don’t shut up,” I warn him.

“Don’t take that tone with me, young man.”

I decide against beating the shit out of Tyler at this time. The faster he makes this stupid list, the faster he’ll go home—to his parents’ basement where he currently lives. No, I’m not kidding. He’s a walking, talking epitome of a guy that refuses to grow up. He has a bachelor’s degree in Japanese studies (a surefire way that he will never get a real job), works part-time at The Gap, and has never had a serious relationship.

Remind me again why I’m even thinking of taking advice from him?

“Okay, I’ve got a better idea for number one. Go shopping with her.”

He writes out his new number one while I stare at him questioningly. When he looks up after writing it down, he stares at me like I’m an idiot.

“Bro, chicks love shopping. If you go and
ooh
and
ahh
over every pair of shoes she picks up, you’ll be in her pants by the time you get to Auntie Anne’s Pretzels,” he informs me.

I don’t even bother explaining to him, yet again, that my main purpose in life isn’t to get in Charlotte’s pants. Sure, it’s something I dream about. Well, wet dream about. And the reason for my earlier Google search, but it’s not the ultimate goal. I want her to love me. I want her to see me as something other than a friend. I want her to realize that we’re soul mates.

Fuck. Maybe I am getting my period.

“Alright, item number two. Take her to The Cheesecake Factory,” he states as he continues to write.

“Why The Cheesecake Factory?”

Tyler shrugs as he taps the pen against the counter. “Chicks dig The Cheesecake Factory. It will show her that you can be all fancy and shit. Oooooh, oooooh, oooooh! Tell her she can order whatever she wants. That’s a total cool-guy move,” he tells me excitedly.

Alright, so this isn’t too bad. I can handle a day of shopping as long as I’m with Charlotte. And The Cheesecake Factory is delicious.

“What else?” I ask as I go around the counter and stand next to him as he writes furiously.

“Dude, this is going to be epic. I am such a fucking genius. You better name your first born after me or something,” he tells me as he continues making the list, quickly coming up with ten things that he swears will have Charlotte in love with me by the time I finish all of them. We work together, crossing things out and moving them around until we have a pretty good list of things for me to do to win Charlotte over.

I know I’m going to regret this. Somehow, some way, this is all going to come back and bite me in the ass, but I’m desperate. I know I’m a chickenshit and should just come right out and tell her, but that’s not happening. This needs to be handled delicately. Tyler is the only person who knows how I feel about Charlotte. If anyone finds out about this before I’m ready … Well, let’s just say having my mom tell my eighth grade English teacher at conferences that when I was little I used to walk around telling strangers my dad had a huge wiener will seem like the best day of my life.

Yep, totally going to regret this.

Charlotte graduated from college a few weeks ago. She had a few make-up classes to do during the summer session, but she’s finally finished. She majored in Communications at Ohio State University, my alma mater. Today, her parents are throwing her a small graduation party at their home, and I can’t deny the fact that I’m a little bit excited to get started on
The List
. After several six-packs of beer last night, this idea became more and more awesome. I mean seriously, what woman wouldn’t love it if a guy started doing a shit ton of awesome things to prove to her how much he cares? And these aren’t just everyday, common sense things like buying her flowers. These are the things women
want
men to do, but never come right out and ask for. I’m going to be a God among men when this is all said and done.

“Alright, bro. Are you ready for phase one? I mean, it will probably take a little while since it’s early in the day, but you got this,” Tyler reassures me as we get out of my car. I cock my head from side to side to crack my neck and shake out my hands.

“I can do this. I can TOTALLY do this. Phase one to commence by 9 pm,” I reply.

Tyler gives me a high five and we make our way around to the backyard of Aunt Liz and Uncle Jim’s house. My ears are immediately assaulted with the sounds of very bad, very off-pitch singing. Glancing under the tent they have set up, I see my Uncle Drew and Aunt Jenny doing karaoke. They’re singing Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You Babe,” but they’ve changed up the lyrics just a bit.

“I’VE GOT YOU, BITCH!”

“I’VE GOT YOU, ASS!”

In case you’ve never met my Uncle Drew and Aunt Jenny, let me just tell you that this is pretty typical behavior. To put it nicely, they are bat shit crazy. Not crazy like
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,
crazy like … I don’t know, picture the most insane porno you’ve ever seen and then add in an episode from the Cooking Network with a couple of Oompa Loompas watching and you have a day in the life of Drew and Jenny Parritt. Uncle Drew is completely inappropriate one hundred percent of the time, and Aunt Jenny is a few fries short of a Happy Meal.