The Temporary Virginity of the American Player

7. I'm a Genius, Despite What Everyone Might Think.

"You know something?"

"What?"

"You haven't had sex in a week and a half."

I was benching at the gym with Joe as my spotter, watching a few girls try their hand at lifting and working an elliptical. They weren't as appealing as they usually were. I couldn't believe it. What was wrong with me? Usually I was drooling all over myself when catching a glimpse of some babes like these in yoga pants. No. Instead I wanted them to get away from my equipment. I wasn't as hungry as I usually was. I blamed CG and her sob story, and the reminiscence about Christy and Johnny. Then again, it could have been my week and a half-long of sexual deprivation. Damn the bet!

"I know."

"How do you feel?"

"Let me ask you something," I said, replacing the bar and sitting up to look at him. "Have you ever tried to quit smoking?"

"Yeah, once. That lasted about two minutes."

"Would you consider quitting smoking?"

"If I had kids, maybe. What's smoking got to do with anything?"

"Me quitting sex is a lot like you quitting smoking," I said honestly. "Next to impossible."

"I feel like you're over-exaggerating just a tad bit, buddy."

"Not at all," I assured him, switching places with him and letting him bench a few. To add a joke, he lit a cigarette in the middle of the gym before he started, keeping it balanced as he pumped two hundred pounds up and down. "It's a widely known fact that I'm pretty good at sex. I mean, I love doing it. I'm good at it. It's like the ultimate self-esteem booster for me."

He snorted and replaced the bar, taking a drag.

"Yes, Nick, I know."

"Not doing it just feels weird," I complained. "Unnatural. I mean, I haven't had sex in forever."

"You had sex eleven days ago."

"That's forever ago."

"You're being a little girl about all this," he informed me, eying a girl in spandex as she bent over to pick up a weight. "Hello. How are you doing?"

"At least I've made it this far," I sighed. "I think I can do this. Do you think I can-...Joe? Joe? Where are you going?"

"Need help with that, miss," he was asking spandex girl.

"No, that's okay. I came here to lift weights because it's a gym, so I got it."

"I haven't seen you around here before. New member?"

Great. Even my wingman was playing the field. What a pal.

"Joey," I called, waving to him. "I'm leaving, man."

He barely even saw me, but that was fine. I understood his thirty-year-old needs. There was nothing more appealing than meeting a girl in a common-bond place. I was sure they'd be pumping iron together in no time. Me? I'd be eating chocolate ice cream out of the carton watching Desperate Housewives alone. No problem.

I fired up the Pontiac and curved onto the route home, but I took a detour and stopped by the café. For once, the place was busy. A construction crew hogged a rather large table and a couple of police officers laughed it up at the bar. Lena was behind the counter racking up a total while a high-school nerd took orders. I waved to her and she waved back, pointing towards my regular booth.

Yes! Score. It was open and waiting for me, and that was the direction I headed in. I settled against the window and yawned. I expected Lena to come by, but she didn't. Instead, she exchanged words with the waiter kid and sent him in my direction with a cappuccino with whipped cream and mocha sprinkles. Oh, how sweet.