Bertie and I became friends rather gradually. We met at a
volleyball tournament on the day after Halloween. He was incredibly hungover
and told the story of his insane night out in a subdued tone of voice. I
couldn’t decide if he was in his late teens or early thirties. I referred to
him as Ambiguously Aged Bertie for at least the first six months I knew him.
Maybe longer (obviously, I’m not really reliable when it comes to time). It
turns out he’s 24 days younger than I am.
 |
| Hee hee |
I think I’ve gotten to know Bertie fairly well, we bonded
through a shared love of puns and quick quips on road trips and over drunken
card games and pizza nights and concerts. But he is always full of surprises.
For example, lately Bertie has been going on lots of
dates – probably as many as I have. It’s one thing for a gung-ho oddball on a
Lent mission to be dating every damn day, but for a (relatively) normal guy with
a full-time job and no sudden windfall of disposable income, it’s worth
remarking on. Turns out he’s looking for someone to settle down with, which is
nice. When he found out what I was up to, Bertie decided we should go on a
date. At some point early in our friendship, he had pointedly mentioned that he
would never date me (the kid is refreshingly blunt), so I concluded he just
wanted to help pad my numbers in case I start striking out.
A couple of weeks went by, and I didn’t see much of
Bertie at all. Both of us were busy dating. He’d asked Lana and Liz how the 40
Date Challenge was going, and they told him that I was surviving so far. They
told him to get in touch with me to set something up. I texted him a few times,
never heard back.
The day after I gave up, deciding that a date with Bertie was a lost
cause, he asked me to brunch. I agreed with my usual enthusiasm.
I was getting ready to leave for our brunch date, when I
got a text from Liz, wondering where I was. Uh.
“Where am I supposed to be?”
“At the bridal shop. In the foyer.”
“Oh buggar.”
 |
| Not Lana's dress, hers will hopefully show more cleavage |
I had completely forgotten about Lana’s wedding dress
shopping appointment. I was the one who booked it. Foolish mortal. The strain of my constant
busy-ness was starting to show. I felt like a total jerk. I texted Bertie, told
him I’d forgotten Lana’s dress shopping thing, grabbed a bottle of champagne
out of my fridge, and sprinted out the door.
Bertie replied while I was driving, but I left my phone
in the car during the dress fitting thing. He offered to take me and Lana (my
permanent chaperone) to lunch afterward. We happily took him up on it.
 |
| Another girl on his mind |
Still giggly from the champagne and girliness, we walked
across the street to a pub to meet Bertie. Lana and I talked about wedding
stuff and dating stuff and planned future silly adventures. Bertie joined us
and waded into the conversation fearlessly and comfortably. We talked sports
(curling excitement is not an oxymoron) and summer plans. Bertie told us about
a girl who he’d been seeing, but who did not think he wanted what she did. He
seemed confused, but not heartbroken. We laughed a lot.
Our server was incredibly quiet, almost as though she was
mouthing the words, but not saying anything. Nonetheless, we were able to
settle our tab based on guesswork.
Lana and I said “goodbye” to Bertie and laughed our way
back across the street to our cars.
No comments:
Post a Comment