Appeal Denied

2017-NYC-34: A Brief History

January 29, 2017

"I'm a married lady now, Van. I can't keep setting you up on these blind dates with my husband's friends if you're going to find something wrong with every single one of them," Amber sighed as she glanced over the brunch listing at The East Pole.

Perusing the menu, my eyes landed on the Full English Breakfast and immediately skittered away. I don't know why anyone would want to eat all of that food for Sunday brunch. My reluctance to order it couldn't possibly be related to my former partner. Besides, once I'd read the description of The East Pole Macro Bowl (which had kale and seaweed in it, so I knew it would be a Harry favorite), I had no choice other than to go with the lemon ricotta waffle.

Rolling my eyes at Amber, I smiled tightly. "You need to set me up with better dates."

"You didn't like Phillip."

"His eyes were too close together, and he had a horrible singing voice."

"What about Alan?"

"Too short. His head barely reached my chin," I frowned.

"You were wearing heels!" She accused. "Why didn't you see Marcus more? You seemed to like him."

"He was moving too fast. Wanted to fuck after the fifth date!" I protested, avoiding her eyes. When Marcus had made the move on me, I couldn't explain my reluctance. But no one else's dick had been in my vajayjay for two years, and I wasn't sure that Marcus' was worthy.

"Vanessa!" she chided, "Five dates before sleeping together isn't unheard of. Sheesh. You're not a virgin, are you?"

"No," was my soft comment, "But he just didn't seem to be the right guy for me, Am."

Amber pressed on, "And you're definitely not interested in Bernadette? 'Cause she seemed nice. And she was pretty, but not prettier than you. You laughed with her a lot."

With a shrug of my shoulders, I dropped my voice, "Turns out I like my dates to have a penis."

"I'm sure she would have strapped one on for you," Amber chortled, "She seemed attracted enough to go the extra mile."

A painful feeling pushed across my chest, and I reached up to rub at the spot below my left collarbone. The truth was that I missed Harry. I ached for him, and I don't mean just my lady bits. My whole body wanted to join again with his. That didn't explain the pain I felt near my heart, but I assumed that must be indigestion from the greasy pizza I'd devoured the night before while watching Nicholas Sparks' movies one after the other, sobbing so hard that the delivery guy was a bit nervous when I opened the door in my Green Bay packer jersey and a pair of Harry's boxer briefs I'd stolen when in LA.

"Hey," I brushed off her concerns and mine, "They say you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince. I bet the next guy will be more to my taste."

"Mhm," my colleague responded as our food was set in front of us. I was dismayed to find the full English breakfast on my plate.

"Um....I didn't order this. Did I?" I asked, looking at the server, "I thought I ordered the lemon ricotta waffle."

Amber was looking at me fearfully. "Honey -- you did order it. I remember being surprised because it seemed a bit heavy for you. Are you feeling okay?"

I shook my head and laughed, "I'm fine. Sorry! Sometimes I can't remember my head. Good thing it's attached to my shoulders!" But I wasn't fine. Not even a little bit.

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February 1, 2017

"Happy Birthday, Butterfly Boy! I hope you're having a kick ass birthday!" I yelled into the phone. After the beep.