The Sex Education of M.E. (2 page)

“Yes,” I said. “Then I need one of those.” Saying “fuck” seemed a little extreme. “Why couldn’t he be a ‘sex friend’?” I asked, to which she replied: “You could call him a boy toy.” That just sounded all kinds of wrong. I didn’t want a boy. I wanted a man.

She’d set me up with an account on her favorite dating site in hopes of finding me someone. Here’s the thing: I was scared out of my mind. I didn’t want some sex addict. I didn’t want an ax murderer. I didn’t want someone sleeping with fourteen other women ages twenty to twenty-one. A dating site wasn’t going to factor all those characters out. Every person there was like me - desperate to find someone for sex. I hung my head in shame at the thought. I was running out of choices unless I simply propositioned someone.

“Honey, it’s perfect. Most of these men are no strings attached. It’s just what you need.”

The fireworks were about to begin, and we entered the street like the rest of the neighbors. At the opposite end, in the cross streets, stood the first of many large displays the resident on the corner would release to celebrate the birth of our nation. Gathering in close with other adults, while children settled closer to the activity, I noticed Gia’s neighbor and a few of his male friends near us. Todd Swanker was just that – a wanker. He was crude and abrasive in his language, with no filter for all things inappropriate. Every neighborhood has one of those neighbors; the harmless, married one who flirts with every female above sixteen. Our neighborhood was not unique. Todd was our guy.

“Ladies,” he said, stepping up to wrap an arm around each of us, letting his fall from Gia almost instantaneously but lingering on my waist. A gentle tug toward him compelled me to pull back out of his grasp as he began the first of his unfiltered comments.

“Another year of fireworks, but of course I see them nightly,” he boasted, pausing to let the images of him and his wife sink in.

“Bet it’s your wife who sees colors each night. The inside of her eyelids as she holds them shut tight,” Gia muttered causing me to giggle at the thought of Todd’s sexual prowess.

“Of course, if Emme needed help in this area, I’m sure I could work something out.” He twitched his eyebrows and rubbed his hands together, as if it wouldn’t be a problem for him to provide his services to me. My name rolled over his tongue made me shiver.

With a brief, “No thanks,” I looked around the gathered crowd.

Nearby, but not too close, was a man I hadn’t seen before. He dragged his beer bottle up to his mouth and took a long pull before releasing the lip of the bottle. His throat rolled slowly as he swallowed, and for some reason, I was mesmerized by this motion. The slight glow of a street light illuminated our small patch of street and offered a backdrop that highlighted his features from the side: large arms with a hint of tattoo, flat stomach under a tight t-shirt, low-hanging shorts. I continued to stare, transfixed by the movement of his throat under a layer of scruff. Removing the bottle from his mouth, he turned in our direction, and I quickly looked away. My face heated, and I thanked the heavy black of night. I stared forward just in time to see another wave of fire light the sky ahead.

“That’s Chief,” Todd offered in my ear, startling me like the buzz of a mosquito. I turned to him, and followed his gaze to the man he referenced, the same man I’d been ogling seconds ago.

“Hey, Merek!” He motioned for the man to come closer. “Come meet Emme!” The tall man turned in our direction, and his dark eyes narrowed in on me. His hair looked thick, with a hint of salt at his temples. His face displayed a few days’ growth. His skin was tight, but the crinkles by his eyes gave away his age.

My face flushed again, and I wanted to melt into the sidewalk, disappearing under the weight of his returned stare. Dark eyes twinkled with specks of gold met mine and playfully sparked the reflection of another round of fireworks. He held my eyes for a moment, and I noted the glassy gleam that winked at me before he took a step: an uneven, swaying step. The man was drunk. A slow curve crept up one side of his perfectly puffed mouth and tugged the other side to join, revealing a dimple I wanted to trace. My panties smoldered. The next spark of fireworks in the sky matched the instant pulse between my thighs, igniting my sensible cotton underwear. I squeezed my thighs together, imagining this stranger’s mouth on the most intimate parts of me. My sex clenched, and I looked away. Oh God, I
was
desperate, if I was imagining a stranger doing such things to me.

“Merek Elliott, meet Emme,” Todd offered. “Emme, Merek.”

“Yummy,” he muttered with a chuckle. Instantly, I was enveloped in a sloppy hug. A dribble of beer from his bottle poured down my back as his mammoth arms engulfed me. He inhaled deeply next to my head, before he pulled back. With a slur, he said: “You’re lovely.” A hint of Irish brogue twisted into his drunken compliment, and cursing myself, I blushed again.

“It’s Emme,” I emphasized when he released me. “It’s short for Mary Elizabeth. M. E.” Using my finger, I traced the letter M and E in the air as I enunciated my nickname since childhood.

“That’s what I said, Yum. Me.”

“Okay, Chief. Don’t be hitting on my ladies.” Todd reached out a hand to steady the man beside us. Drawing back, Merek held my gaze before his eyes slowly drooped downward to close, and then snapped open again. He swayed back on his feet, one kicking out to catch himself.

“I’m not hitting on her,” Merek said. “No hitting,” he said, raising his beer bottle and taking a final long pull. I turned to Gia, who shrugged her shoulders, before glancing ahead again at the crowd near the end of the block. She returned her attention to my phone.

“MatchMe?” Todd asked, squinting at what held Gia’s interest. “Don’t you already have like twelve of those accounts?” he teased.

“Thirteen,” she said without batting an eye, “and it’s not for me. It’s for Emme.”

“Gia,” I squawked, raising a hand to cover one side of my face, as if it would shield my embarrassment, while she shared this information with our most notorious neighbor and a sexy stranger. Why didn’t she just mark me with a giant D, like the scarlet letter? D is for desperate.

“MatchMe?” Merek questioned with a slur. “The dating site?”

I couldn’t respond. Reaching for my phone again, Gia relinquished it to me, and I stared down at a picture of myself. I hated having my picture taken, and this one didn’t flatter me anymore than any other might. I instantly found a hundred things to criticize. My chin sagged. The skin under my eyes had darkened with age, suggesting I didn’t sleep. My eyes didn’t sparkle cobalt blue like they once had. My nose was too pointed. My hair was almost white-blonde, and I had an age spot on my cheek. 

“How do I delete this?” I scowled, at Gia and anyone else standing too close.

“You don’t,” she offered. “You use it. Just see what happens. Who responds.”

“I bet you’ll get plenty of offers,” Todd commented. “But mine still stands, of course.”

I glared at him, and I sensed the weight of Merek’s eyes on Todd, too.

“I’ll make you an offer,” Merek suggested. All three of our heads turned in his direction.

“Oh yeah,” Gia teased. “What offer you going to make her?”

“What do you need?” He tilted his head ever so slightly to one side.

“Nothing,” I blurted at the same time Gia said, “Sex.”

An audible groan escaped Todd, and a shaky hand wiped down his face then slid over his large belly and lower, adjusting himself at the mere mention of sex. I looked away, willing the ground to open up and swallow me. I wanted to kill Gia at the moment, just strangle her right in the street. I could read the headline now:
Friend Murders Friend for Soliciting Sex with a Stranger on Her Behalf
. I covered my own face in horror.

“I’m leaving now,” I said, spinning away from Gia.

“Wait,” Merek’s voice froze me in a half-spin. “I’ll give you a ride.” He swayed back on his feet again. He righted himself this time with a firm stomp with his left. Legs straddled, he put in the effort to hold himself still. Something softened in those dark eyes, but I assumed it was nothing more than the sleepiness that takes over a drunken man at the end of his limit.

“You’re too drunk to drive. Besides, I walked,” I said, swiping the hand that held my phone before me. I didn’t live far, and the two-block walk was what I needed to burn off the shame and fury.

“Here,” he suggested, holding out a hand for my phone. “I can delete your MatchMe account. I used to have one.”

Reluctantly, I held my phone out for Merek. He pressed several buttons and pushed down the home key. The phone went to the main screen. Returning the phone to me, I pushed the home key, and the first window to open was my contacts.

“What’s this?” I scoffed, holding out the phone for him to read.

“My number. Think of me like Uber. You need a ride, I’m your man.” He winked. Gia snatched my phone from my hands and laughed as she glanced at the screen.

“Oh my God.” Forgetting all about my phone, I turned and stalked toward my home on the other side of the park.

Sitting at the bar, I stared at my phone. I didn’t know what else to do with myself. It had been years since I’d gone to a bar alone, and I felt like everyone was looking at me. Of course, they weren’t. Who would notice a forty-something woman with blonde-gray hair at a bar? Only men over sixty, which, no offense to that age category, but it didn’t describe me. Yet.

I couldn’t believe Gia had talked me into this. After returning my phone the day after the party, she explained I already had a “connection” on MatchMe. It wasn’t even a date. It was simply a meeting of sorts. She showed me a few of the hits I had, which were unacceptable.

You like me long time
.

Nope to the person who can’t speak English.

U look hot 4 an older woman. MILF all the way. I’m in
.

Nope to the younger person who couldn’t seem to spell.

I like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain.

Nope to the guy who smoked a big one before sending out the message.

She assured me the request for tonight was a good offer. This matchmaking thing seemed hopeless, and besides, I didn’t want to date. The idea of starting over, getting to know someone, trust them, and spend time coordinating my life with theirs just didn’t appeal to me. I recalled the awkward moments when I first dated Nate. We didn’t click immediately. It wasn’t love at first sight, but more like a slow progression of connection. He was smooth and patient. He wined and dined me, like I’d never experienced before. Intrigued by his interest in me, the quiet one of our bunch in college, I hesitated to form a relationship. In hindsight, it seemed like circumstance kept us together, moving us forward, until marriage was the natural next step at twenty-two years old.

I was comfortable with myself. Not in my skin, but by myself, I was good. I didn’t mind going to a movie alone, just not on a Friday night. I had no problem eating alone at a corner deli with a good book as my date. At times, I wished for a companion, but I was so busy with work and the girls, I was okay alone. I was. Sitting at the bar was another story.

I was self-conscious of my pencil skirt that might or might not be cutting off my circulation, and my heels that kept slipping into the rung of the stool. With the air conditioning on high, my skin chilled in the lightweight, flouncy, sheer blouse Gia encouraged me to wear.

“Just wear your black bra,” she argued.

“No. No way am I only wearing my bra and nothing else under this see-through material,” I countered.
Besides, if my breasts were on full display, so was my stomach. A strappy tank camouflaged some of the lumps across my lower abdomen. Conscious of it rolling up a little, I tried to sit straighter on the stool.

Everything was Gia’s fault. She’d accepted an invitation through MatchMe to meet someone. Assuring me she hadn’t picked someone too young or too old, too cheesy or too suave, I currently sat at the bar waiting for my “arrangement.” It wasn’t a date. It was a meeting. Fifteen minutes. If either of us decided we wanted more, we could go from there, but the initial in-person conversation arranged for only a drink.

“You’re going to be fine,” Gia soothed as she smoothed back my hair like I was a child. “You can even time it if you wish.”

Did people really do that?
I wondered. I worked well with schedules, a trait I’d picked up from Nate over the years.

“I’ll can even call you and fake an emergency, if you wish.”

O’Malley’s was a nod to the Irish nature of our neighborhood. Old-world-pub-themed with dark wood, dim lighting, and banners of Irish bands decorated the small space. I’d been here a multitude of times with my late husband, with ladies from the area, and with my daughters. It was strange to sit here alone, and I worried that someone I knew would walk in and see me. On the other hand, Gia thought this was the best place to meet as I was close to home. This environment felt comfortable, and I had the protection of possibly seeing someone if I needed another excuse to end the meeting.